SUMMARY: Not long after Adam returns from college, he begins to wonder if he should have come back at all, as his father doesn’t seem to recognize he’s not the stripling youth he’d been when he left home more than four years earlier.  It takes a wise young woman of the world to potentially set both Cartwright men straight and help heal a rift that threatens to destroy the family.  Written in answer to the 2025 Brandaversary R-Rated Story challenge.

RATING: MA/R

WORD COUNT: 10,159

NOTE:  the sketch is from a photograph of Pernell Roberts in the 1950 University of Maryland college yearbook, the Terrapin, when he was about 22 years old.

Author’s Note:  A huge thank you to CareBear for her encouragement and beta-reading!

Saucy Sally and the Birthday Surprise

The young man in the bed with her was strong, skilled and surprisingly aware of her needs, which disconcerted the young whore.  Usually, the men she serviced were only interested in their own pleasure, but not this one.  Not since the very first time he’d lain with her.  He was… different.

Oh, to be sure, his spirited and energetic lovemaking lived up to his youthful status – the man had stamina she’d rarely experienced!  Usually two or three times a night – but he always, always, made sure she, too, reached completion.  That was definitely not the normal state of things.  If Sally was ever able to come just close enough to reach fulfilment that she could finish herself off once the man left her tent, that was a bonus.  This man made her climax each and every single time.  And made it personal, as though needing to prove himself… each and every time.

Different acts, different positions – some she’d never tried before and was determined to have fun with in the future! – were experimented with while this dark-haired young man filled her bed and her body.

Tonight, after having first found his ease in a very straightforward manner, he had then rolled her onto her belly then grasped her hips, pulling them up so she was on her knees, her head and shoulders still down, and taken her hungrily and forcefully from behind.  She moaned as his big penis entered her, not hurting her at all, but filling her completely, the delicious friction causing her to frantically position herself to allow his cock to rub her womanhood in such a way as to drive her mad with desire.  As the sound of his thighs smacked against hers, and his thrusting hips slapped her rounded bottom each time he drove into her, deeper and deeper with each stroke, she found herself moaning in her own need and desire, using her inner muscles to grip and milk him as relentlessly as he pounded into her flesh.  She felt triumphant as she heard him finally bellow out his completion.  Then, they collapsed together on the narrow camp bed her tent provided, both panting in exhaustion, satiated.

“Y’know, these narrow cots do make rather uncomfortable velvet couches.”

The humor present in his voice softened the tone enough that Sally didn’t get her back up. “Well, the phrase ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ comes to mind, but of course, as you’re a payin’ customer, the term ‘beggar’ don’t really apply.”

The deep, throaty chuckle was stifled when she leaned over and kissed him fully on the lips, her soft, round breasts pressing into his chest.

“Mmm….”

“Like that, do you?” she said, smugly, propping herself on an elbow.

“Can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t,” he grinned back at her, his white teeth shining from his olive-skinned face.

He sure is a good lookin’ fella.  Sally allowed her hand to play in the black curls, usually so firmly disciplined to lay flat against his temples.  The day’s oppressive heat had made him sweat, and the sweat brought out the unruly curls; she continued to allow her fingers to play, while knowing it irritated him somewhat.  He wanted every part of his person to do his bidding, from his hair to his muscles to his cock.  And, for the most part, his body obeyed.  She smiled to herself, reliving just exactly how well that body had done his bidding just five minutes earlier…

His amber-hazel eyes gazed into her dark grey, studying her suddenly.

“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious and uncomfortable.  “I know it ain’t ‘cos I’m comin’ out somewhere, as I ain’t got a stitch on,” she said archly.

“No,” he smiled, lazily.  “Just committing you to my memory,” he replied softly.  “An old trick of mine.  I like to capture a moment in memory… keep it… kind of like a painting to look back on,” he admitted softly.  “The moment you cried out, when I’d been able to make you…” he flushed slightly, not wanting to say the word.

She grew serious and studied him as well. “Don’t, Adam,” she said quietly.  “Don’t do that.  I’m a whore, and ain’t never gonna be anythin’ else.  Don’t make memories with me.”

Abruptly she turned and slipped out of bed, gathering up her dressing gown and wrapping it around herself, rather like protective armor, as though cinching the cheap silk belt was like pulling on chain mail. “You’d best head out,” she said flatly.  “I got other clients to see tonight.”

Adam remained where he was, an arm bent behind his head, his hand cradling the base of his skull as he smiled at her.  “I’m happy to pay for another couple of rounds, Sally.”

“Are you? Well, I’m not,” she said briskly, arching a dark eyebrow at him.  When she did that, it always disconcerted him.

It was in those moments she looked so, so much like the miniature he had of Elizabeth Stoddard Cartwright.  It was what had caught his eye six months earlier, not long after arriving home from college back east and visiting Eagle Station for the first time.  The trading post had gone up not long before, and as soon as there were gold rushers and miners, there were saloons and chippies plying their trades.

Adam Cartwright had grown up in his time back east.  He’d left a green-as-grass boy of nineteen, bright but untested.  Four years of study at Harvard, being befriended by far more sophisticated young men – young men with money to burn and willing to share – had given him the polish he’d lacked when he left Utah territory and brought him home to his family a full stallion, no longer a gangly colt.  Adam had excelled; he’d completed his studies with honors, he’d gained the respect of his professors and his classmates alike.  He’d left childhood behind, completely… he was a man, fully grown, fully adult, and fully experienced.  He now understood when patience was required, and calculation, no longer grabbing for what he sought, but instead weighing the odds and plotting for it, never giving in until he’d attained his goals… all of his goals.

Just a few days after arriving home, just a few days after a boisterously happy greeting from his father and younger brothers, he also began to realize with a cold certainty that his all too brief foray into total independence – albeit wrapped in the trappings of the requirements of collegiate life – was over. He was, once again, part of a family.  A strong family, with each member very much present in each other’s lives.  It didn’t take long at all for the young man to realize he was going to have to spend a good bit of time figuring out how to make his father understand that he hadn’t come back content to merely pick up the threads of his nineteen-year-old self and carry on as if nothing had changed

It was then his nighttime rides began.  A deep need for freedom, to be out from under microscopic study of his father, trying to find his boy again in the man… his brothers trying to find the ‘big brother’ who’d left four and half years ago in the man who’d returned, something of a stranger, especially to his littlest brother, Joe.

And on one of those nighttime forays, into the new settlement of Eagle Station, Adam had come across Finney’s, a slapped-together saloon serving rotgut and warm beer, alongside a series of tents housing the soiled doves that serviced the miners and cowboys of the area…

He’d sipped a beer from a none-too-clean glass – well, at least it’s wet! – and noticed a dark-haired, slim young whore coming in to buy a bottle of whiskey and started slightly in shock.   

For this young woman – no more than eighteen, surely – had long, waving dark hair, hazel-grey eyes, beautifully arched dark brows, and a face that could have been the twin of a miniature that had sat on his nightstand since he’d arrived in Boston.  His grandfather, Captain Abel Stoddard, had gifted it to him on his arrival.

A miniature of Elizabeth Stoddard Cartwright copied from the portrait the old sea captain had hanging in his parlor.  Elizabeth.  Ben’s Cartwright’s first wife; Adam’s mother who’d died within an hour of his birth. This girl could have been her sister.

“What’s’a matter with you?” grinned his old friend, Ross Marquette.  “Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Adam swallowed hard, turning troubled, shocked eyes back to his tall, skinny friend, and quickly got himself back under control.  “Yeah… something like that,” he’d said softly, glancing back at the girl.  She saw him, and smiled at him, nodding at Ross familiarly. 

Adam’s jaw tightened; somehow, it upset him that this girl had obviously plied her trade with his friend.  Adam knew the foolishness of that feeling and was able to tamp it down. 

“How are ya, Ross?” she smiled, raising the bottle in greeting.

“Can’t complain, Sally, how ‘bout you?”

“Well, I could complain but it wouldn’t be worth a damn, now, would it?” she grinned, saucily.  She allowed her startlingly beautiful grey eyes to rove over Ross’ tall, handsome companion.  “Who’s your friend?”

“Now, Sally, this ain’t just no ordinary friend!  This here’s a college gra-jew-ate,” snickered Ross, winking at the girl, and using a shoulder to elbow his old friend forward, to his annoyance.  “Fresh home from Boston, Massachusetts, Sal.”

Her eyebrows rose, and Adam’s heart caught in his chest with familiarity. The expression on his mother’s portrait, to the life!

“Does this here college graduate have a name?”

She’d slowly walked toward the two young men, her eyes smoldering.  Sure, he was good-looking, but his clothes didn’t look any finer than the working clothes Ross Marquette had on.  Still… there was that Cupid’s bow mouth, begging to be kissed…and those muscles that rippled under that tan shirt, holding real promise… and those impossibly broad shoulders that tapered down to the slim hips.  All of these were enticing to a girl used to having to breathe through her mouth to avoid the stink of drunken miners and cowpokes as they bedded her.  This handsome boy … no!  Handsome man could prove to be a welcome distraction.

“Adam Cartwright,” he said quietly, his amber eyes hooded and sultry.

The rich baritone arrested her in her tracks. A musical voice.  She looked into his eyes again, and both young man and girl felt the electricity crackling between them. Ross saw it, too, and smirked, raising an eyebrow at his normally unrufflable friend… he sure was ruffled now!

“Well, Adam Cartwright,” she said, just as quietly, “I think we might maybe have us some fun together.”

And they certainly did have some fun over the last six months.  Over and over again.

She’d even been the one that Adam chose to indoctrinate his younger brother in his first time with a woman.  Adam knew Hoss would need someone gentle, and someone who’d let him take his time while still strong enough to lead him along.  And, after the event, according to a somewhat shellshocked Hoss she’d done a masterful job.

Bringing his mind back to the present, Adam sat up on the cot, reaching a long arm out for her and pulling her back into his lap. “Memories don’t have to be long term, Sally,” he said, softly, soothingly, gently kissing her neck.  “But they can keep a man warm on a long night keeping cattle from straying.  You wouldn’t deny me that, now, would you?”

She hesitated, knowing this was dangerous…so dangerous, not just for him, but for her,  as well.  Never let ’em get too close, the older whores had warned her. ‘Cos then they got the power to hurt you.  But those eyes of his were like deep pools… drawing her in.

“Well, I suppose, when you put it that way,” she sighed, allowing her warm hands to travel down his broad chest toward his groin.

~-oo0oo-~

As Adam and Hoss jockeyed for position between the eight to ten beeves (who’d escaped a break in the fence line) and the river, doing their level best to keep them moving toward the rest of the herd Adam found himself thinking over and over again about how he might have better handled the argument that morning.

He and Pa had been locking horns for the last six months, and he was growing weary of the daily battles, the daily interrogations, the daily need to justify himself and his choices and his decisions.  Perhaps it had been wrong for him to come back from Boston.  He thought – he’d honestly and truly thought – Pa needed him, but that certainly didn’t seem to be the case.  Pa wanted someone who’d rubberstamp Ben Cartwright’s plans and offer no resistance.  Adam knew that unless something changed, he’d wither away from ennui and resentment…

“If I can’t trust you with something as simple as making sure the fence lines are solid, then – ”

“Now, just one minute, Pa! That’s not a fair assessment -”

“C’mon, Pa, you know it ain’t Adam’s fault that Curly and Jack didn’t catch that line o’ fencin’!  You know it ain’t!” 

“What I know, Erik Cartwright, is that I’d asked your older brother to handle making sure the border fencing was solid!  Didn’t I!?”

“Well, yessir, but -”

“Never mind, Hoss.  It’s clear our father has absolutely no interest in hearing any side of the issue but his own.”

“You watch yourself, young m-…and just where do you think you’re going?!”

“Out! Someone has to ride those fences, don’t they? Sir?!”

Sighing, Adam thought back to the conversation he and Sally had had over a little whiskey and sex a few weeks back…

“Honestly, Sal, I wonder if it was the smartest move I ever made to come home.”

“Oh, c’mon, honey, it can’t be that bad.  Your Pa’s a decent fella-”

“Yes, he is.  He’s more than a decent fella. He’s a fine man.  But he has the tendency to look at his sons and not note the passing of time,” he’d replied, dryly, groaning in contented pleasure as Sally’s warm hand stroked his member, coaxing it back to attention. In response, his hand went to her firm breast, gently rubbing the nipple encouraging it to stiffen as well.

“In other words, he’s havin’ a hard time realizing that you’re not still the wet-behind-the-ears kid you were when you left,” she’d purred, moving suddenly.

“Exactly!  Oooh…” he gasped, as her hand was replaced with her mouth. His hands drifted down to her head and threaded his long, sensitive fingers through her dark waves, holding her head as she sucked him, ever so efficiently, her tongue drawing his cock in, using maddening swirls to excite him, throwing him off his rhythm and instead setting her own inexorably.  For a few minutes, nothing more was said as Sally skillfully relaxed the irritated, tense young man in her bed. 

Afterward, while his senses slowly returned, Adam had sighed, feeling his heart gradually begin to return to its normal, strong beat instead of a frantic hammering.

“So… College Boy… Smart Boy…” she’d whispered in his ear.  “You gonna whine about it forever? Or do something to change it?  What is it that ya want?  Do you really want to leave?”

He’d sighed, frowning. “No, I don’t.  I love my home.  I love my family.  But I do want my father to understand I’m no longer a child, and treat me like the man I am.”

Sally propped herself on her elbow studying the handsome young man beside her.  “Well, then, it sounds like you need to do some talkin’ and convincin’,” she said decidedly. “Seems to me that if you want to make change, you gotta do somethin’ diff’ernt…”

Talkin’ and convincin’, huh? Easier said than done with someone like Pa.

Adam sighed, pushing his hat a little further back on his head and rubbing at his temples, which were aching now. He’d got very little sleep last night after getting home late from Finney’s.  Unfortunately, Sally had been otherwise occupied for the night, so he’d ended up drinking pretty heavily with Ross and not rolling in until well after midnight.  Five in the morning had come too  quickly, and his headache and a bit of nausea were the greatest proof of that.  Combined with steers that were going out of their way to wander and get themselves stuck in swampy bogs, and hands that sniggered behind his back (and some to his face), it seemed everything was making his life a misery today.

“Hoss!  What’s the hold up!?” he hollered down the bank to his younger brother, trying to wrench a calf out of being stuck in the brambles at the creek’s edge.

“…dadburned, ornery misbegotten son of a bull…”

Adam couldn’t help but smile at his younger brother’s colorful language. That was another change that had come about while he was back east, he noted.

Just as he was about to dismount to help, he heard a mighty roar from his younger brother, a bleated moo! of relieved freedom and loud splashing.  He peered over the side of the bluff and grinned to see the freed calf clambering gleefully up the bank while his soaked young brother trudged up behind it, decidedly irritated.

“Good job,” he nodded, gesturing toward the calf.  “Doesn’t appear any worse for wear… though you do.”

“Aw, why don’t you just stuff it, older brother,” Hoss growled as he stalked past, glaring as Adam chuckled and nudged Sport forward to keep the calf from tumbling down the bank again.

“Temper… temper…” chided the older brother gently, his mouth curved in a smile.  “C’mon, let’s call it a day.  Even Pa couldn’t say we’ve not earned our supper today.”

As he’d expected, mentioning food helped to quickly turn Hoss’ mood around.  “First smart thing you’ve said all day,” Hoss grunted as he mounted Chubb. “Let’s move… my stomach’s startin’ t’think my throat’s been cut.”

~-oo0oo-~

Troubled by this morning’s argument with Adam, Ben directed the wagon toward Eagle Station, knowing that he couldn’t get much work done without the fencing tools he’d need.  With Hoss and Adam both rounding up the cattle that had broken through the fencing, Ben wearily headed into the trading post to try to gain additional fencing.

As he pulled the wagon up in front of Eagle Station itself, Ben sighed to see the brisk trade happening at the two drinking establishments, as well as the eight to ten prostitutes’ tents set up with almost military precision.  Just what the father of sons needs, he grumbled to himself, setting the brake on the wagon and swinging down.

Once inside, he received a wave of hello from one of the owners, Warren Hall, as he made entries in a notebook while his brother, Frank, counted off items on the shelves.

“Ben! Long time no see!” grinned Warren, nodding at the rancher.

“Well, we’ve been real busy, Warren,” Ben nodded, pulling off his gloves and slipping them into his jacket pocket, a jacket he didn’t really need with the summer heat.

“Not too busy for young Adam to make his presence known, though, eh?” chuckled Frank, sticking his pencil behind his ear.

Frowning, Ben glanced at him. “Adam?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

Frank and Warren Hall, chuckled and glanced at each other. “Oh, nothin’ much, Ben, just that your boy’s been a regular over at Finney’s of an evenin’  the last few months… out back in the tent city, too.”

Confused, Ben tried to place the reference… and suddenly grew red-faced, his brows knitting together. “That so?” he asked, grimly.

Since Adam’s return from Boston, he’d faced a good deal of ribbing from the locals.  Though he never tried to put on airs (despite their claims to the contrary), Ben Cartwright’s oldest son had had to deal with a lot of teasing – both light-hearted and some more malicious.  Ben knew that Adam and his old friend, Ross Marquette, had been spending a lot of time here in Eagle Station at the saloons.  He hadn’t known about his visits to the tents, however.

Warren dug an elbow in his brother’s ribs. “There now… we’ve gone and got the boy into trouble with his pa,” he said, sarcasm layered heavily. “Ben, here, just might take a strap to ‘im and it’s all ‘cos o’ your big mouth.”  This set Frank to giggling  again.

Ben harrumphed and put his hands on his hips, glowering at the Hall brothers. “I came in to get some supplies, not be party to gossip.”

Frank tittered.  “Oh, no harm in a boy sowin’ his oats, Ben. What can we do for ya?”

“If you’re prepared to do some business rather than spread lies, then we can talk,” Ben rumbled, surprised at how quickly his temper was rising.

At that, Warren Hall raised an eyebrow, his stance no longer jocular, but combative.  “Ain’t no lie, Cartwright,” he said, firmly, losing the humor right quick.  “Your boy’s been enjoyin’ a certainly young lady’s company back’ere on a reg’lar basis.  Just ‘cos you ain’t aware of it don’t make it a lie!”

Both men realized that they were drawing an audience, and Ben’s face grew redder still.  He glared balefully at the man before him, who returned the glare two-fold.  Finally, Cartwright sighed. “He’s a grown man, Warren, not a boy,” he ground out, wishing Adam was in reach to shake him until his teeth rattled!  What he said instead was, “What Adam does in on his own time is his own business.  Now, if you’d like to tend to YOUR business, I need some fencing wire.”

Hall bristled slightly, but also realized that Cartwright, an upright community member – and a damned good customer – was tryin’ to meet him halfway, so it’d be wise for him to do the same.

“Right this way,” he grunted, heading toward the counter. “How much ya need?”

~-oo0oo-~

Ben Cartwright hesitated by the swinging door of Finney’s.  Adam hadn’t been in there either.  He dreaded the thought of having to go try to roust him out of a whore’s tent, but he was bound and determined to hash this problem out with his son, once and for all, or they’d never be able to find their way again.

“C’mon, you slut, quit fightin’ me!  You know ya want it!”

Frowning, Ben settled his hat more firmly on his head and walked down the planked walkway that elevated passersby from the muddy streets, stopping short suddenly when he heard the unmistakable sound of a hard blow and a woman’s cry of pain from around the side of the saloon building.

“I’ll teach you some manners, by God, ya saucy piece!” came a rough voice, and another cry of pain.  Grimly Ben strode forward; he didn’t care what the girl did for a living, manhandling her was unacceptable.

In the dim lamplight spillover, Ben could see a girl struggling against a beefy miner, filthy and clearly drunk, but his big fist clamped around her forearm like a vise.

“Let me go, ya bastard!” she cried, twisting like an eel, desperate for her freedom. “Let me go, I said!”

The big man drew his hand back, this time in a fist, and Ben wasn’t fast enough to keep that fist from connecting.  The girl dropped like a rock, and furious, Ben whirled the surprised miner around, delivering several body blows and finishing the job with a roundhouse right that laid him out cold as a mackerel.  Ben whirled to the girl, slowly coming up to her elbow, shaking her head.  He could see blood dripping from her nose, but most of her face was hidden by a fall of wavy dark hair.

“Miss… Miss, are you badly hurt?” he asked, very gently putting a hand under her elbow.

“… wha…”  She was obviously dazed, but she turned, surprised, to the deep but gentle voice above her.

Ben’s eyes widened in shock.  My God… “Liz…?”

She shook her head again, and focused on the man, a big man, easily as big as the one who’d been beating her, but with a thick head of graying hair, a strong face, slightly larger than truly handsome nose, but a pair of the most beautiful dark brown eyes she’d ever seen.  She wiped at her nose again and chuckled ruefully.  “Sorry, fella… name’s Sally, not Liz, but for a price I’ll answer t’whatever you want.” She winced as she leaned on one wrist to try to rise but fell when the arm buckled, the pain surprising her. “Oh!”

Ben shook himself back to reality.  Of course, it couldn’t be, don’t be such an idiot!  “He did hurt you, then,” he said grimly.  “Come, let me help you get back to your … your place, and take a look at that arm and those bruises.”

“I’m… I’m all right, mister, no need,” she muttered, managing, with his assistance, to get to her feet, and glancing fearfully back at the miner, still out cold.  “Wish you hadn’t-a-done that, he’ll be mad as hell once he comes around. And he knows where I live.”

Ben thought for a moment.  “We’ll move your tent.  He’s so drunk, he’ll be totally turned around.  Come on, young lady, let’s get you inside and looked at.”

When she hesitated, he smiled at her and crooked his arm as he would to any find lady.  “I’m Ben Cartwright.”

Startled, she looked up at him.  “Cartwright?” she echoed, aghast.  Adam’s father?!  Sweet Lord have mercy…

Seeing his questioning look, she quickly covered herself.  “I’ve.. uh, I’ve  heard o’ you.  Got a big spread… the Ponderosa.  Cattle, right?”

“That’s right.  And you’re… Sally, isn’t that what I heard?”

“Yes… Sally MacGiver.  Here, this one’s mine,” she gestured toward her tent, wincing again as it was beginning to hurt to speak.  Once inside, he noted that while a whore she might be, she kept her tent shipshape and tidy, and the cot was made up neatly. She even had a glass of water with some flowers resting on a trunk, offering some gentility and color to the place… they look like the ones near the ranch house, the same beautiful rose and purple hues…

“Here, you sit yourself down and point me toward some rags so we can clean you up.”

She chuckled and winced. “It’ll take more’n some rags, Mr. Cartwright,” she sighed.  “Look, there’s no need.  I can take care of myself… ain’t the first time a client got rough.”

Ben tipped his head to one side and studied her again.  Yes, it was clear there were differences, but my goodness the resemblance to his beautiful Liz really was quite remarkable.

Flushing in disconcertion, willing his body to stop responding to this child, he gently daubed at the bruise forming on her cheekbone and tenderly wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, grimly shaking his head.  “Animal,” he muttered under his breath.

She found herself growing a little weepy as his tender touch reminded her of her own gentle father, how he’d take care of her when she was hurt or ill.

“I’m sorry, dear, I don’t mean to hurt you,” he apologized, gently, but firmly finishing his ministrations.

“You ain’t hurting me,” she sniffled.  She looked up at him, her grey eyes uneven as the right one began to puff and swell.  “You… you must have some young’uns… you’re real gentle-like.”

He chuckled. “I do… three.  Well, they’re not little anymore, except the youngest.  He’s twelve, but the other two are grown, or nearly so in my middle boy’s case.”

Wincing, more at the thought of the deception she was engaged in than in any pain at the man’s ministrations, Sally thought of those two ‘older boys’ and guiltily kept her eyes lowered. If you had any idea what things I’ve been up to with those sons o’ yourn…  When he gently daubed at the cut on her cheekbone she flinched, jerking her head back.

“Easy,” he said soothingly, gripping her hand with one of his own and continuing his ministrations with the other. “Just squeeze hard when it hurts.  I’m almost done.”

Patiently, she breathed through what little remaining discomfort was caused and finally sighed, looking up at him.

“Well, I can tell you’re a real good father, sir,” she whispered.  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Ben found himself gazing into her grey eyes, losing himself in them.  And she returned the gaze.

“Or… maybe I do.”

Ben shook himself, realizing her intent.  “No need,” he said, starting to rise.

“Mr. Cartwright,” she said gripping his arm, nervously.  “I… I’ll tell ya this for nothin’… I’d be grateful if you’d stay a bit anyhow… in case that brute comes back.  And…” she swallowed, raising her head proudly. “I ain’t one to be beholden to nobody.  I’d be grateful if you’d let me … please ya, in order to pay my debt to ya.”  She chuckled a bit without humor.  “Think of it as a birthday present, like.”

“It’s not my birthday,” he sighed gruffly, but stilled when she placed her fingers to his lips, shaking her head, gazing at him… God, but she looks like Liz!

“No… it’s mine.  Today’s my birthday, and to be honest, I’d like to spend it with a kind and gentle man for a change,” she said softly. “See, I’m one of them ‘ladies o’ the evenin’ that actually likes the work I do, for the most part.  I’m good at givin’ a man what he wants and needs.”  She gazed up at him, seeing that somehow, there was a link of some kind between them, though she wasn’t exactly sure what it might be.  Perhaps … perhaps I remind him of someone? “I know your woman died awhile back,” she said, very gently and with dignity.  “I ain’t aimin’ to make you forget her. Instead, well… maybe bring her back to ya for a short time.”

He hesitated, shocked to feel his body respond to her.  It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman.  Ben was no angel, and to be sure he’d taken his pleasure with women of Sally’s type in the years occasionally since Marie had died.  He was a very physical man, a man that enjoyed women, liked women.  His hand gently stroked her wavy hair back from her face. “You’re not more than a child,” he said quietly.

She shook her head, and her hand, surely, but gently, reached for his manhood. “Nope… all woman,” she disagreed, smiling as he gasped, and carefully placed her bruised mouth to his, taking his free hand and placing it insider her bodice.

Oh, Liz…But the shape was wrong, the touch was wrong.  Twenty-five years on, Ben’s hands still remembered the feel of his wife’s firm breasts… the exact swell of her hips… and while this girl reminded him of her very, very much, she was not Elizabeth.  And all the wishing in the world couldn’t make her so.

“Sally… no.”  He removed his hand from her bodice and hers from his lap.  “That isn’t going to happen,” he said gruffly.

“Why not?” she breathed, her eyes nearly closed, her young lips close to his.

“Because I’m old enough to be your father, and as enticing a young lady as you are, I don’t bed sweet young things like you.”

A low, guttural laugh was halted with an almost painful sob, as she pulled away from him and turned her body, keeping her face averted. “Sweet young thing!  Well, that’s a reach, lemme tell ya.”

“No, it’s not,” he said firmly, turning her back and tipping up her chin with a finger to make her look at him… much as he would have young Joseph.  His mind whirled with options.  “You said it was your birthday…” he mused.

“So what if I did?”

“Well, missy… ,” he smiled gently then, and removed his finger from her chin and instead used it to gently snag a loose curl, and hook it tenderly behind a tiny ear.  “Someone once told me that the best gift you could give a … a young lady of your occupation is a decent night of solid sleep, with no strings attached.”

Startled, the girl looked up at him, her lips parted slightly, surprised by his words.

“Suppose I get us some food, and you tell me a little bit about yourself, and then I make it possible for you to have a good night’s sleep in a decent bed.  How does that sound to you?”

“I…” For once, Sally MacGiver, freshly nineteen years old, didn’t have a quick, witty comeback, a sharp word or a sarcastic comment.  She was speechless.

Ben chuckled and raised an eyebrow.  “I’m guessing from the look on your face that this sounds like a good idea to you?”

A slow smile formed on her face.  “Well, I’d certainly be willin’ to hear more!” she answered, decidedly.

= = = =

Hop Sing finished placing the nicer dinnerware on the exquisite table which looked as though he’d been preparing for this evening for weeks, all the while muttering about last minute birthday cakes and no time to prepare for a decent feast.  He stepped back and critically eyed the effect.  Flowers would be nicer, but there hadn’t been time to go out and find some, so the candles with the pretty and fragrant vines Missy Cahtlight used to call Clematis wound around them would have to do.

The roast pork would soon be perfect, and all the vegetables were ready to be steamed, and the birthday cake was finished and decorated.

He glanced toward the stairs where the little missy the Boss brought home earlier was resting.  She looked troubled and too thin… her clothes had been cheap and tawdry, but even Hop Sing had spotted the resemblance she bore to the mother of Number One Son… except for the bruises on her face.  If Mister Adam had a sister, it was not unreasonable she would look like this little jìnǚ.  Hop Sing had no judgement on her profession; he’d known full well how circumstances can force someone into a position … erm, into work they normally wouldn’t do.  If the Boss was content to have a prostitute at his table, then who was he to protest?

He heard the front door open and Mister Hoss’ big voice and then Mister Adam’s.

“Boy oh boy, somethin’ sure smells good, Hop Sing, what’s for… hey….”  Hoss’ eyes were wide as he took in the beautifully decorated table.

Adam stopped short, filthy, tired and aching from dragging recalcitrant steers out of the swampy bottomland they’d been assigned to patrol today.  “What’s all this?” he demanded of the houseman.  “I don’t remember Pa mentioning anyone coming to dinner.”

“Is suplize,” answered Hop Sing with dignity.  “Water hot for baths.  You go take, stink of cow.”

One black eyebrow rose. “Sorry to offend,” Adam replied dryly.

Hop Sing sniffed. “Dinner leady one hour.  Hurry, please. Boss say everyone clean for dinner.”

“But who’s comin’?” asked Hoss, confused, as he allowed Hop Sing to herd him toward the wash house as efficiently as any of their head wrangler José’s cutting horses might.

“Guest of father, no more question, move,” commanded the Chinese man, sending both brothers in the same direction. “Hop Sing put clothes in wash house fo’ you. Go!”

The Chinese man shook his head, and turned as the Boss came downstairs, wearing his good suit with the silver waistcoat.  He looked truly majestic in that outfit and Hop Sing felt great pride to work for such an important-looking man.

“Numbah One and Number Two Sons getting washed.  Mister Little Joe dressing?”

“He is,” nodded Ben, grimly, as he pulled his shirt sleeves down comfortably under his jacket.  “He put up a fuss about having to wear a suit, until I informed him he could either sit comfortably at the table or not, his choice. But he’d be doing it wearing his suit!”

Hop Sing stifled a grin.  “All be leady in one hour. Girl fit in one of Missy’s dresses, maybe?”

Ben’s expression softened.. “I think so, yes,” he smiled.  Then his eyes widened.  “I sure hope she found one that she won’t need too much help getting fastened into, as none of us is suited to be a lady’s maid!”

~-oo0oo-~

Adam poured himself a brandy looking at the festive table settings.  A birthday, Hop Sing had said, though he couldn’t imagine who in the world it could be.  Nothing this fancy would be done for the likes of Doc Martin or Roy Coffee.  All he’d wanted to do after the godawful day he’d had today was to get a bath, eat a simple supper and relax with a book, maybe even allowing himself to doze off while reading. Having to entertain was not part of his plan.

He glanced up to see Hoss coming in from the kitchen, fastening the buttons on his shirt cuffs, and looking decidedly more presentable than he had when stripping off his filthy work clothes in the wash house.  He smiled at his ‘little’ brother, pouring him a small glass of brandy as well. “Say when,” he said quietly.  When no sound came, he looked up in annoyance, only to become alarmed at the expression on his younger brother’s face.

Hoss looked like he’d been pole-axed. His face was white as a sheet, his eyes so wide that Adam could see white all around the blue orbs. And his mouth kept opening and closing though nothing was coming out.  Whirling in alarm, Adam nearly dropped the two glasses he held.

For there was Sally, coming down the stairs on Ben Cartwright’s arm, wearing a dress that Adam recognized as one of Marie’s.  She was clean, her hair nicely coiffed, if still damp from having been washed. And… his jaw tightened in anger.  She’d been beaten.  Her face and neck were bruised.

Her head was held high, her pride held like armor, as she gazed back at the two brothers, continuing down the stairs on Ben’s arm.

Adam supposed it was seeing Marie’s dress that did it.  It brought his Creole stepmother back to him, full of life again, making the only thing he could think of slip unbidden out of his mouth.

“Merde!”

~-oo0oo-~

This is absolutely bizarre.  That’s the only word I can come up with for this situation… bizarre.  Nothing else seems to come close to defining it.  Strange… weird… nightmarish.  Even absurd isn’t strong enough.  Embarrassing?  Yeah, that would work, too, but again, not strong enough. 

Adam was able to keep up quiet dinner conversation, his face as calm and steady as possible throughout the meal, but his mind was churning right along with his stomach. For God’s sake, Cartwright! You’re twenty-four years old, man, not a child! Get a grip on yourself!

Across the table, his next younger brother wasn’t faring anywhere near as well.  He couldn’t look anywhere but at his plate, so he was mechanically shoveling food into his mouth as though his life depended on it.  And, considering what he believed his father might do to him if he understood that the young woman seated across from him had been the prostitute to whom he’d lost his innocence?  Maybe his life did depend on it.

“Sally tells me her father was a forty-niner,” Ben was saying, keeping a weather eye on his two older sons.  Adam’s reaction, he’d expected.  This young woman seated beside him was an honorable girl, and when she’d reacted so oddly to his suggestion of coming to the Ponderosa for a day or two of rest, good food and peace, he’d been able to put two and two together.  But she’d said nothing until he point blank asked her if Adam had been a client…

“Sally, I’m not angry.  For heaven’s sake, I’m a man…I was a sailor before I came west.  I’ve lived in the world.”

She’d eyed him, worriedly.  “You been real good to me, Mr. Cartwright. An’ I don’t want to make any trouble… for anybody.”

“Sally…”

She sighed, and he could see his hunch had been correct.  He nodded, and a small smile formed itself.  “Well, then,” he said briskly, flapping the reins to speed up the pace of the borrowed buggy, “the next few days ought to be interesting, don’t you think?”

Astonished, Sally had looked at him then and laughed outright.  “Mr. Cartwright… well, I ain’t never met no one like you before,” she said in admiration, and then her expression became softer. “’Cept my papa.”

Now at the table, watching Adam twist in the wind, Ben Cartwright had to constantly stifle an inward chuckle of amusement.  He wasn’t thrilled that his son had been frequenting the tent city in Eagle Station, but he couldn’t truly blame him.   For heaven’s sake, he had done the same as a young man! And Ben Cartwright knew that any son of his would behave kindly and keep it professional.  He hoped. No, Adam had definitely been kind, or Ben would  have known from Sally’s reaction.

No, Adam’s …. erm, activities…  didn’t really bother him.  It was Hoss’ reaction that startled him.  While he knew Hoss was a fully capable eighteen-year-old, the boy was also painfully shy around young ladies.  And it dawned on him that – as had usually been the case in the past – it was likely Hoss’ elder brother who’d ‘helped him out’ on that score, introducing him to the art of pleasing women.  And that did rile him a bit.

“A forty-niner, huh? Did he ever find a strike?” asked Little Joe, with interest, picking up his glass of milk.

She smiled at him.  “No, nothin’ big,” she admitted. “But Papa… he never stopped dreamin’. Not ‘til he died.”

Joe nodded. “I can understand that.  My pa never stopped dreamin’ neither until he found the Ponderosa.” He tucked into his roast beef, then looked up, puzzled. “But… if your pa isn’t alive anymore, where do you live?  Are you still workin’ his claim?” the boy asked, curiously.

Hoss choked on his bite of biscuit.

Alarmed, Joe leaped to his feet and pounded on his brother’s back, while Adam set his knife and fork down, wishing he could sink into the dirt beneath the house.

Sally, flushing slightly and struggling hard not to laugh, looked down at her own plate, then uneasily toward her host.

Ben studied his middle son blandly, hearing him able to take in air, albeit a bit wheezingly, and turned his attention back to his own meal. “Well, Joseph, it’s not usually good manners to ask a question like that, especially while we’re seated at the table, so let’s just move on, shall we?”

And, just like that, his two older sons’ eyes were clapped on him like white on rice.  They stared at him, then they stared at each other.

He knows!

And both young men promptly lost their appetites.

~-oo0oo-~

Late that evening, after a supper the likes of which Sally MacGiver had never, ever enjoyed in all her life, both Hoss, beet red with embarrassment, and Adam, more pale than flushed, had managed to excuse themselves for the night, begging forgiveness for being worn out after a long day in the saddle rounding up steers.  Joe had been sent to bed earlier, and Hop Sing, after making sure his host and the ‘lady’ were seen to with fresh coffee and pastries, also told his employer to simply leave the dishes in the kitchen and he’d deal with them in the morning.

After a few moments of peaceful silence as Ben sat smoking his pipe in his red leather chair and Sally curled up comfortably in a blue velvet chair opposite him, gazing into the fire, she drew in a breath and turned her head to her host.

“I… I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Cartwright,” she offered, softly. “But I think my bein’ here has made your family uncomfortable ‘nough.”  She started to rise to her feet. “I’ll be gone by mornin’.”

“Sally.”

His commanding voice stopped her in her tracks.  She drew in a deep breath and looked at him, nervously.

“I know you said you… em… like what you do.”

Her lips firmed and her chin came up.

“Would you be interested in doing anything else, though?”

Her eyes widened in surprise.  “Like what?”

He shrugged. “No idea.”

“Well, since I ain’t good for anythin’ else -”

“Stop that!”

She flushed and clamped her lips together.

“You are most definitely good for ANYTHING else, young lady!” he barked, uncrossing his legs and punctuating his speech with the stem of his pipe. “You’re a bright young woman, articulate, smart.  You could do anything you put your mind to!”

“Like what, a fine lady’s maid?” she demanded, hotly.  “Wife o’ someone as fine and educated as your boy?!”  She waved her hands at herself, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “Look at me!  I’m a whore, plain an’ simple!”

“You don’t have to be if you don’t want to be.”

Her chest heaving, she stared at him.  “An’ what else could I do?” she whispered, her lips trembling.  “I can’t cook, I can’t sew -”

“You could learn.  IF,” he stopped her protests with an upraised hand. “IF … you wanted to.”

He set down his pipe and walked over to her as she stood before the fire, frowning and agitated.  He kept his hands in his pockets.  “Do you think, ever, of doing something else?” he asked, more gently now.  “You’re good with people, Sally.”

She shook her head, then glanced back at him, worriedly.  As though speaking would give him something to hold over her.  She hesitated, but his kind eyes and face – this felt so much like pouring her heart out to Papa! – gave her the courage to speak.

“I wondered once…”  She swallowed hard.  “When Papa and me was travelin’ west, we stopped in a town that had a nice eatin’ place.  The lady that ran the place had someone who did the cookin’ and the cleanin’ up. She worked the main room, takin’ peoples’ orders, sittin’ ‘em down, makin’ ‘em feel t’home.”  She closed her eyes, a small sigh escaping her.  “That seemed awful nice. Like always havin’ people comin’ to visit and makin’ ‘em feel welcome.”

Ben nodded, taking his hands out of his pockets and gathering one of her tiny ones in his.  “I have a friend in California, a woman named Nell Starling, who owns just such a place.  In Sacramento.  If you’re game I’d like to write to her and see if you might come to her, to work for her and learn the business.  She’s a widow, and the last time we wrote she said how she’d like to find someone to take over the business when she was ready to stop.  Adam says you know how to read.”

She glanced up at him, fearfully. “A little, yeah.  Not real good.”

He smiled at her. “Practice makes perfect, Sally.”  As he’d done in her tent, he reached out and used a finger to tip her chin up to look at him.  “What do you say, Sal?  Would the hard work of learning a new business be something you think you could tackle?”

Scared, but excited by this prospect, too, Sally found herself allowing a tiny shard of hope to brighten a life that had been darkened by hardship and loss.  She swallowed hard, and pulled her hand from his, walking a little to gather her thoughts.  Finally she stopped, and turned, head high and stared at him. “Why?” she demanded.  “Why me?”

Ben smiled, and held out a hand to her.

Frowning she remained still, until he shook his head. “Come here, little girl,” he said sternly, but with a twinkle in his eye.

Sighing, she walked to him and placed her hand in his, and he walked her toward his desk area.  There, he turned her and pointed her toward the three framed images resting there on his desk.  And when she looked at the three, she gasped in shock.

“But… but that one… she looks like me!” she breathed, reaching over to pick up the small painting, and her hand stopped, guiltily glancing at him before her fingers touched it.  He smiled at her and nodded, and she lifted it, staring in amazement at the image before her.

“That’s my first wife, Elizabeth,” said Ben quietly.  “Adam’s mother.”

Elizabeth.  “…Liz…” she breathed, remembering the name he’d called her, and looked at him, questioningly.

“Yes.”

“Oh…”  Her hand shaking, finally she set the picture back down with respectful gentleness and drew in a deep breath.

“He’s hurting,” she said, very softly, staring at the image.

Startled, Ben frowned, puzzled.

“Adam.  He’s hurting.”  She drew in a breath and stared at him.  “He’s thinkin’ you ain’t never gonna see he ain’t 18 anymore.  That you’ll never see he’s come back with learnin’, and experience.  That’s he’s a grown man with ideas and plans of his own.”  She hesitated.  “I ain’t trying to be hurtful, Mr. Cartwright.”

Sighing, Ben eased a hip onto the desk. “I’ve wondered.  He’s been so prickly…”

“He’s been feelin’ like you ain’t takin’ him serious,” she responded, gently.  “An’ if you two can’t find a way to mend the rift, he’ll… well he’ll leave again.”

Lips parted in a shock, Ben shot again to his feet. “What?!”

She nodded. “You got it all in your power to make the change, sir, but if’n you let it go too long… well, you’ll lose him.  And I don’t think you want that.”

She reached out a hand and tenderly patted his arm.  “He’s grown up,” she said, with a sad smile.  “He ain’t a little boy any more.  Can you figure out how to meet him where he is?”

Troubled, Ben gazed down at the miniature of his wife, and the young girl stepped closer and gently kissed his cheek.  “I’ll say good night, then.”

And she walked up the staircase, leaving the man below to ponder how to bridge the expanse between himself and his eldest son.

~-oo0oo-~

Three weeks  later, Adam sat on the front porch watching the full moon rise over the mountains, chin propped on his hand as he gazed into the night sky, remembering the girl who looked like his mother and yet had her very own special place in his heart. The girl who’d excited his body and his heart. The girl who’d left that afternoon with a family traveling on from Eagle Station to Sacramento.

He heard the door open and shut, and closed his eyes, trying to get control of his emotions.  Sure enough… it was Pa.

He heard the chair creak beside him.

“Mind if I sit here with you for a bit?”

He silently waved a hand of acceptance… welcome… whatever…

After a good ten minutes of silent rocking on Ben’s part, and total immobility on Adam’s, the older man turned his head toward his son, empathy radiating from his chocolate brown eyes.

“Are you all right?”

Adam’s lips firmed and his hand dropped.  The young man stared at his boot tips.  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”  But the tone was somewhat subdued.

Ben smiled sadly.  “Because you liked her.”

Adam winced, and turned his head a bit away.

“Son…”

“Pa, I’m fine.”

Ben firmed his lips a moment, then drew in a deep breath and leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs.  “Sally and I talked quite a bit, you know.”

Adam, glanced at him, alarmed.

Ben smiled, gentle understanding shining out at his eldest.

Adam cleared his throat and straightened slightly.

“She mentioned you were… concerned.”

Adam flushed, uncomfortable.  “She shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?” asked Ben gently.  “She cared about you.”

Again, Adam flinched and closed his eyes.

“She cared about you so much she wouldn’t let me help her until I knew you two had been… involved.”

“We weren’t … involved. I was a … a client, nothing more,” Adam bit out, his voice harsh.

“You know better than that,” Ben chided… very, very gently.

Adam’s lips trembled slightly, and his hand came up to his mouth again, to keep those lips from betraying him.

“When you came home…”

Adam turned as silence fell between them and was startled to see pain on his father’s face.

“When you came home, I had trouble accepting that you weren’t the boy who’d left here nearly five years ago,” Ben admitted, his voice low and rough.

Adam said nothing, allowing his father some space.

“It was so easy for me to just…” Ben waved a hand, trying to come up with the words he needed to explain how he felt.  “To just pick up where we’d left off.  I mean, I was the same man I’d been when you left.  But the difference was…. well, you weren’t the same boy.”

“Very true,” Adam replied, quietly.

Ben hauled in a breath and raised his eyes to his eldest son, a look of pained acceptance on his face.  “No.  You weren’t a boy at all. You’d become a man in the time you were gone.”  Ben chuckled and shook his head. “What am I saying…”  He looked up apologetically at the young man before him.  “You were a man before you left.  You’ve always been older than your years, Adam.  Always.  Taking on more responsibility than you should have, from babyhood.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  “It’s … well, it’s hard for a father to want to relinquish responsibility for a child.  While you’ll always be my baby -”

Adam drew in a frustrated breath, and Ben gently patted the air between them.

“While you’ll always be my baby,” he repeated, eyeing the younger man firmly, “my firstborn, you’re not a baby or a child or even a youth anymore.  You’re a man.  A man… a son to be proud of.”

Hesitantly, Adam glanced up at his father.

“And… Sally made me realize that if I didn’t recognize that, I’d lose you.”

Adam gazed into his father’s chocolate brown eyes. “So…”  He respectfully nodded.  “Where does that leave us?”

Ben nodded as well, leaning back in his rocker and bringing his hands together, steepling his fingers.  “Where do you want it to be?”  he asked, honestly.  “Do you… do you feel as though you need to leave us?”

Adam swallowed hard and shook his head, leaning forward, and mirroring his father’s stance of a few minutes earlier, forearms on his thighs.  “I don’t want to, Pa,” he admitted, softly.  “This is… this is home.  I love you all.  But…”  he swallowed hard and firmed his mouth.  “But if you can’t find your way clear to understand that I’m not that little boy anymore, I’m not sure where that leaves us.”

Ben nodded.  “That’s fair,” he murmured.  “What role do you want to play on the Ponderosa?”

That surprised Adam.  “I…” He shut his mouth for a moment, thinking.  “I’m not foolish enough to consider myself your equal,” he replied, slowly, thinking… and making Ben smile.  “But I don’t want to be seen at the same level as Joe… or even Hoss.”  Proudly, he raised his chin a little.  “I’ve worked hard the last five years, Pa.  I’ve learned a lot that can help the Ponderosa find its way forward, into the twentieth century.  But if you undercut me every step of the way…”

Ben nodded, rubbing his chin.  “I understand, Adam,” he retorted, gruffly.  He frowned and gazed at his son. “As long as you understand, I’ve led this ranch alone for a long time.  Oh, I had help… Jake and José. You, of course.   Lately, your brother Hoss.  But the weight of the decisions and their ramifications rested on me.”  He sighed and looked seriously at the young man beside him. “It’s going to take some practice for me to hand over some of the reins. I’ll need you to be patient.”

Adam studied him and decided to meet him halfway.  He nodded. “Understood.   As long as you understand… I won’t’ give up on something I feel strongly about.”

Ben chuckled and shook his head.  “You’ve never been anything other than persistent,” he grunted.  “So… is there a chance we can work this out?”

Adam studied him, and then a slow, sweet smile crested on his cupid’s bow mouth… Liz’s smile, Ben realized.  “Yes, sir, I think so.”

Ben cleared his throat and nodded, pleased.  Then he thought of something.  “However, I’d like you to remember that your younger brothers are my responsibility,” he said, slowly, and lifted his head, gazing directly at his eldest son, who looked perplexed.  “Hoss.   And Sally.”  He said no more.

Adam remained quiet for a moment, then raised his own eyes, looking directly at his father as well, standing his ground.  “That awful day in Ash Hollow, Inger placed Hoss in my arms to care for,” he said softly, gently.  “I’ve never stopped.  Not from the moment that arrow took her.  When he came to me, a couple of months back, asking questions and wondering about… well, about relations with women, I did what I believed was right and was best for him.  I didn’t want him to learn from anyone but the best, and someone who would be kind and understanding of him.  You might not agree… in fact, as a father I’m pretty sure you don’t.  But that’s doesn’t change the reality of what was happening. He needed answers. And not answers his Pa could easily give.”

Ben glared at his eldest and was a little disconcerted to note that Adam was absolutely and totally feeling on solid ground here.  There was no shame, there was no regret.  He was a man, in full control of himself, and Ben had no choice but to take note of it.

“Marie asked me to watch over Joe, too.  So…”  Adam leaned back and steepled his own hands once again.  “Are you demanding that I step away from promises I made to the two women whom I loved… who accepted all of me, accepted me for who I am, and were mothers to me?”

For a difficult, tension-filled moment, Adam was honestly unsure of how this would play out. But he couldn’t deny Inger, and he couldn’t deny Marie.  Not now, not over something so important.

Ben fought with himself… fought hard.  And realized that Marie had been right.  In this, Adam would be the one who would know best…

“Mon cher, your eldest son is a smoldering fire of emotion, have you never seen this?  How can you have raised this man for all these years and never seen it?”

“Man?  Nonsense! He’s… he’s just a boy!”

“Non, Benjamin.  He is a man… has been so for a year at least,” she scoffed, waving a hand.  “I have told him I place his baby brother’s care in his hands.  For he will educate my son in ways you cannot.  A father cannot do these things.  It must be an uncle… or a brother who loves him. You can teach him how to defend himself.  How to be an honorable man.  Someone other than his father must teach him the way of the world.  I trust Adam to do so.”

Ben sighed and leaned back.  “Yes, I know.  She told me,” he grunted.

Astonished, Adam glanced at his father.

Smirking, Ben nodded. “Yes, she did.  She told me there are some things a father cannot teach.”  He studied his eldest son.  “You will take this role very, very seriously?”

Adam’s face was impassive, then he nodded. “Yes,” he said, gravely.  This was a solemn promise.

Ben nodded.  “Very well, then.”  He pushed himself to his feet and stared out at the yard.  Then down at Adam.  “Are you happy with what we worked out for Sally?”

He smiled then and nodded, rising as well to his feet. “Yes.  She’s a wonderful girl.  If her father hadn’t died, she’d never have ended up earning her living this way.  She was amazing,” he admitted softly.

Ben nodded.  “I know that Nell will be a good resource for her,” referring to the woman who’d run the restaurant in Sacramento they both knew.  “Sally can have a fresh start and make her life whatever she wants it to be.”

Adam nodded.  “Yes,” he said softly.  Just not with me.

“Adam… you know how much I love you, don’t you?”

Surprised, the young man turned to his father, gazing in surprise.

Ben smiled.  “I don’t say that as often as I should,” he admitted, apologetically.

Adam shook his head… you never cease to surprise me, Pa.  “We know it, though,” he replied, warmly. “Hoss… Joe… and I.”

“Good,” nodded Ben, reaching out and gripped his son’s strong bicep.  “So,” he said, clearing his throat and getting himself more under control again.  “Tell me about this plan you’ve got for shifting the herd’s grazing areas.”

Adam’s lips parted in surprise.

Ben chuckled.  “Jake told me,” he reassured his boy, mentioning the name of the Ponderosa’s longtime foreman.  “Your brothers didn’t rat you out.”

And laughing, the two eldest Cartwright men went back into the house to talk business.

THE END