Summary:  Is there more to Ben’s attorney when he is charged with murder?
Rating:  T  66,300 words

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Though the Library already contains stories from this author, this story was forwarded by Corina to be included as part of this project.

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Dallas

Prologue – Virginia City

 

Ben Cartwright sat in his jail cell, shook his head, and sighed. His sons had gone back to the Ponderosa after making sure that their father had eaten everything on his plate, food that had been lovingly prepared by Hop Sing. Night had fallen, the darkness making him feel alone, tense and afraid.

 

Oh, Roy Coffee kept wandering in and out, trying to make Ben feel better – but the fact remained that nothing could make Ben feel better. He had been charged with murdering Marcus Bondurant, a man whom Ben had a particular dislike for. The day of the murder, Ben had been the last man to see Marcus alive and the two men had quarreled bitterly over Marcus’s plan to clear-cut land for a new mining operation – a plan which would contaminate the water on the Ponderosa as well as on other ranches and farms. Marcus’s son, Amos, age eighteen, had seen the argument with Marcus and Ben, each one shouting at the other angrily. Amos, terrified at the sight of the two big men in the midst of such an argument, had left the Bondurant ranch at a gallop and had headed for the hills. He had returned to the Bondurant ranch the next morning to find his father sprawled on the front porch steps. Marcus was quite dead with a deep cut across his throat.

 

Ben shifted position on the cell’s lumpy cot. He had been advised this afternoon by his attorney, Morgan Winters, that there would be a change of venue for the trial. The Bondurant’s attorney, William Coleman, had argued in court that a trial in Virginia City wouldn’t be a fair trial because Ben was so well-liked in town and that an impartial jury couldn’t be found. Ben would be found innocent solely on the basis of his reputation. The judge had agreed and granted a change of venue to Carson City. Of course, Ben was known there also, but the judge was certain that an impartial jury could be seated. Unfortunately, the most-feared judge in Carson City was Judge Ellerbee – a man who tolerated very little and delighted in handing out the harshest punishments possible in return for a “guilty” verdict. The punishment for murder, of course, was death by hanging.

 

To make matters even worse, Ben’s attorney – a friend for many years – had suffered a stroke late this afternoon. The stroke rendered him unable to walk and to speak. But he could write with a shaky hand and had given Doc Martin a note to take to Ben: 

 

Best attorney. Dallas Montgomery. Trust.

 

Adam had sped to the telegraph office to send a wire to Dallas Montgomery, Esquire. In his wire, he presented the facts of the case and said he had been referred to Mr. Montgomery by Morgan Winters. Within an hour, he received his answer with a positive response and to bring all of Morgan’s notes and the notes from the inquest to Carson City. Also there needed to be the names of anyone involved in this case – Roy Coffee, Doc Martin, the undertaker, several friends who could speak on Ben’s behalf as to his character, and – of course – Amos Bondurant, the last person to see Marcus alive and who had been privy to the heated argument between his father and Ben. By the time Adam, Hoss and Little Joe had gathered up all the information from Morgan’s office and from Roy and Doc Martin, there was a box piled high with paperwork. Doc, the undertaker, and several friends were more than happy to testify as to what they had seen and also to Ben’s unblemished reputation. Amos Bondurant would be there with attorney, William Coleman.

 

“How ’bout a game of checkers, Ben?” asked Roy. How he had hated to lock Ben up, but it had been necessary.

 

Ben gave a bit of a smile. “Not now, Roy. I think I’ll try to sleep. Tomorrow we go to Carson City.”

 

Roy nodded. For the umpteenth time, he added, “I’m sorry, Ben.”

 

And, for the umpteenth time, Ben answered, “Roy, you’re only doing your job. Get some sleep.”

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

Everything happened so fast that Ben hardly had time to get his thoughts together. Judge Ellerbee had slated jury selection down to the fraction of a second of the Virginia City entourage. Ben was ushered into the courtroom and was seated at the Defendant’s table – alone – with the box of paperwork that had made the trip. But where was his attorney? 

 

Ben looked at his sons, at Roy, at Doc, and at the sheriff of Carson City – a tall, lean man who nodded at Ben. They knew each other but were neither friends nor enemies – they were just what one might refer to as “acquaintances.” Rex, the sheriff, looked at the clock and shrugged. 

 

The gallery was full to capacity. A few people knew the Cartwrights well, some knew them only by reputation, and some just wanted to watch a murder trial. Five minutes before jury selection was to begin, Judge Ellerbee made his appearance. 

 

To say that the Judge was ugly wouldn’t be quite right – but it would be close. He bordered on being morbidly obese and apparently didn’t care that his black robe was wrinkled and stained beyond belief. He had a bulbous red nose and beady eyes and heavy jowls and a thick rat’s nest of gray hair that looked as though it had never been combed. He glanced at William Coleman and Amos Bondurant and gave them what might be construed as a small smile, revealing the fact that he was missing two front teeth.

 

He then turned his attention to the Defendant’s table and stared at Ben. 

 

“It is my understanding that you are being represented by counsel. And do, pray tell, where is your attorney?”

 

At that moment, one minute before the appointed hour, a figure strode in and headed directly towards Ben. 

 

“I’m here, Your Honor.”

 

“You’re late and your clothes are muddy!” exclaimed the Judge.

 

“I most certainly am not late. I have one minute to go before we begin. And, yes, my clothes are muddy. It’s raining outside, and I got splashed by a passing wagon.”

 

“Are you ready to proceed with jury selection in your sorry appearance?”

 

“I am if you are, Your Honor,” came the smooth answer. “The state of my clothing does not affect the working of my brain.” The innuendo hung in the air and elicited a soft murmur from the people in the gallery.

 

“Quiet!” Judge Ellerbee boomed and glared at the figure before him. “Let the jury selection begin.”

 

Attorney Montgomery took a seat next to Ben and, unsmiling, shook his hand.

 

“How do you do? I’m Dallas Montgomery.”

 

All Ben could do was gawk as he shook hands. His attorney was a woman!

 

In the stillness of the courtroom, Hoss’s low whisper could be heard easily. “Oh, Lordy…”

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

Dallas Montgomery was a woman of diminutive height – her head barely reached Ben’s shoulders. She had auburn hair pulled back into a sleek chignon and a no-nonsense look in her brown eyes. She wasn’t unattractive. In fact, her full lips gave her an appearance of sensuality. There was something in the way that she walked and moved that gave the impression of complete self-confidence and a very superior demeanor. 

 

He liked her even less during the jury-selection process because she seemed used very few of her pre-emptive strikes for each prospective juror. As a matter of fact, she allowed only two men who knew Ben to be seated. When the final jury list was accepted, there were three Mexicans, two Italians, three Scotsmen, two Carson City men – one of whom was Jewish and the other being Catholic – and two friends of Ben’s from Virginia City. The two alternate jurors were of mixed race, one being part white and part Negro, and the other being part white and part Indian. 

 

Judge Ellerbee threw one of his snits at the last two. “Negroes and Indians are not allowed to sit on the jury.” Attorney Coleman nodded his head vigorously in agreement.

 

Dallas held the Judge’s gaze. “If you will check the statues in your law books, you will find a precedent that was set just this year.” She gave him the statute number. “It states that any man of any creed or race or social standing, having a complete understanding of the English language and being able to write, may be seated on any jury.”

 

Judge Ellerbee’s red nose turned even redder. He was not one to keep up with the newest legalities. And Amos’s attorney, William Coleman, wasn’t aware of this statute either.

 

Dallas pointed to the two men in question. “It’s obvious that these are both men. If it makes you feel better, Your Honor, they are both half-white. They both are gainfully employed and speak perfect English. This was established during Mr. Coleman’s quick-fire questioning. Anticipating your next question, Your Honor, I will ask them to read and write to your satisfaction.”

 

Running his fat fingers through his ratty hair, Judge Ellerbee glared. “Bailiff, please give the two men in question a section of our newspaper and a sheet of paper – with a pencil – to write on.” The Judge was not about to give up without a fight. “Read aloud and then write a short paragraph on any subject you choose. You have to be able to do more than to just sign your name.”

 

Without stuttering or stammering, both men in question read easily from the newspaper. Then they sat and began to write. When they were finished, they handed everything to the bailiff who, in turn, handed the items to the Judge.

 

Looking like he had just eaten a lemon, the Judge looked at the pieces of paper and then instructed the bailiff to show them to each attorney. William Coleman rubbed his temples – he was getting a boomer of a headache. Ben looked at Dallas and thought he saw the slightest bit of a smile playing around her lips. Then it was gone.

 

“Your Honor,” she said, “let the records reflect that each alternate juror has proven that he has perfect command of the English language in speaking and in writing. John Blackfeather has written ‘The Pledge of Allegiance’, and Mose Drury has written the first part of the ‘Declaration of Independence’. I move that they be seated as alternates.”

 

“Move to strike, Your Honor!” shouted Coleman.

 

“You’ve used all your strikes already!” Dallas pointed out, stone-faced.

 

With a sigh, the Judge answered grudgingly, “Mr. Coleman, your motion is denied. You have, in fact, used all your strikes. The jury selection has been made and stands as it is. The trial starts first thing in the morning.”

 

“Your Honor, I need more time. This client arrived only a short time ago. I have yet to speak with him, the sheriff of Virginia City, the doctor who examined the wounds on the victim and established cause of death, and even the victim’s son himself. This is the first time I’ve even seen all the documents that are sitting on the table. I need at least one week to prepare…”

 

“You have three days. This court is dismissed until Thursday morning at nine o’clock sharp. Be ready, Miz Montgomery!” the Judge boomed. “Sheriff, escort the prisoner to jail. And, Miz Montgomery, he will not be released on his own recognizance due to the fact that he is accused of murder. Don’t even bother to ask!” Almost tripping over the frayed and ragged hem of his robe, the Judge strode off to his chambers.

 

The sheriff approached Ben. Before he was led away, Dallas looked at him and chirped, “That went well, don’t you think?”

 

Ben was whisked away without even a chance to speak to his sons. 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

The courtroom emptied quickly – except for Adam, Hoss and Little Joe. Adam, his face dark with anger, approached Dallas as she began to put her own notes in the box with Ben’s paperwork.

 

“What kind of attorney are you?” Adam demanded in frustration. 

 

“The best,” Dallas answered evenly. Then, “Just who are you?”

 

“Adam Cartwright. These are my brothers, Hoss and Joe. We just watched our father being hauled off to jail without even a chance to say anything to us!”

 

“And you won’t be allowed to talk to him without my being present,” Dallas replied. “I have to be privy to everything that’s said among you. Judge Ellerbee believes that families pass information back and forth in some kind of secret code.”

 

“But he’s our Pa!” Hoss exclaimed.

 

“All the more reason for Ellerbee to be suspicious if you talk to him without my being there. He’s got a great case of paranoia going on. And he’s a twit and a supercilious windbag. He should’ve been voted off the Bench years ago, if you want to know what I think.” 

 

Adam truly didn’t want to like this woman, he really didn’t. But he liked her anyway. “Why is he still a Judge if what you say is true.”

 

“Because nobody will run against him.” Dallas handed the box of papers to Hoss. “Here. Take this box to my office – three doors down on this side of the street. I’m going to talk to your father briefly and then will meet with all three of you afterward.”

 

“Tell him.. Tell him that we…” Joe didn’t finish his sentence.

 

“That you love him and that you’re here for him.” Dallas finished the sentence, her stern face softening. “I’ll tell him.”

 

In a flurry of muddy skirts, Dallas strode away and headed out the door.

 

“What do ya think, Adam?” This from Hoss.

 

“I have a feeling that she’s a force to be reckoned with,” Adam answered, arms crossed over his chest. “C’mon. Let’s go to her office. I think she’d hand us our heads if we weren’t there when she gets back from seeing Pa.”

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

The office door closed with a bang as Dallas used her foot to shut it. Her hands were filled with various and sundry pieces of paper. She went right to her desk and sat down without bothering to say hello.

 

She didn’t mince words, and her face was devoid of expression – neither sad nor glad nor anywhere in between.

 

“We’ll start with information about me,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I began my career rather early in life but graduated summa cum laude from Harvard Law School ten years ago. I have more degrees than a thermometer. I went into practice with a prestigious law firm which didn’t use me to my full capacity, so I quit and became a Public Defender – a job that no attorney really wanted because it pays diddly-squat. But I gained a lot of experience and knowledge about the human condition. Your attorney, Morgan Winters, and I met at a symposium in St. Louis and were chosen to put on a mock trial with judges and other attorneys playing the parts of various jury members, suspects and victims.”

 

Dallas stopped and stared at Adam who had chosen to stand and was leaning against the wall, a toothpick in his mouth.

 

“Do you have to do that?” Dallas asked with a stern look.

 

“Do what?” Adam answered.

 

“Lean on everything – the chair, the stove, the wall…”

 

Hoss spoke up shyly. “It’s what he does, ma’am, when he’s thinking serious-like.”

 

Dallas sighed. “I thought perhaps he was disabled.”

 

Joe snorted and started to giggle but stopped when Dallas glared at him.

 

“As I was saying, we had a mock trial. A murder case. Morgan won – not by much according to the critique afterwards, but he told me later that I was one of the most brilliant attorneys he had ever met. He told me that the folks in his neck of the woods needed people like me. I considered this idea for quite a while and then decided to come out here. I scoured all over the place for a job but, apparently having breasts – her she looked down at her bodice and muttered, “Such that they are” – precludes me from having a brain. I could’ve worked in offices with other attorneys but I’ve been there, done that. So I opened my own law firm with just me in charge. Business is slow.”

 

Adam sized Dallas up and decided that the fullness of her bodice indicated that she wasn’t as “unendowed” as she said. And he liked her no-nonsense attitude. Until she announced what her fee would be – an exorbitant amount. All three brothers gasped in unison. Adam bit his toothpick in half.

 

“My fee is not based on the fact that you are Cartwrights or on the fact that you have the biggest ranch in Nevada Territory. But this is going to be a difficult trial and will require deep research on my part – and I have only two days to prepare. The facts are this: Your father and Marcus Bondurant had an argument loud enough and bitter enough to scare Amos into the woods in fear. Marcus Bondurant was found by Amos the next morning, dead’r than a doornail with a knife nearby – the alleged murder weapon. As far as anyone knows, your father was the last man to see Marcus alive. On the surface of things, that looks really bad. The doctor says that the time of death was probably in the middle of the night and that Marcus died from exsanguination due to a cut throat.”

 

“What’s ex..exsang…?” Hoss asked.

 

“He bled to death,” Adam answered.

 

“Oh. I reckon so if his throat was cut.” Hoss nodded in understanding.

 

“The funeral director and the doctor both agree that there were no other wounds to the body. My first reaction is that there was a fight between your father and Marcus. Your father has a knife wound on his hand. It’s what is known as a probable defense wound. That helps to make your father look guilty. Was Marcus’s death an accident or deliberate?”

 

Joe spoke up. “My Pa didn’t kill Marcus!”

 

Dallas answered in a business-like voice. “Hell, I know that. But we have to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.”

 

“How do you know that Pa is innocent?” Adam leaned forward on the edge of Dallas’s desk.

 

Dallas pursed her full lips. “Because I’ve learned to be an excellent judge of character. Your father spoke plainly and simply and truthfully to all my questions. I know when somebody’s trying to blow smoke up my skirt – and he definitely wasn’t doing that.” Pause. “Besides that, I have a gut feeling about this case, and I always listen to my gut feelings.”

 

“You’re going to defend my Pa on a woman’s intuition?” Adam was flabbergasted.

 

Dallas’s face was serious. “Never underestimate it.” Then, “Either you want to hire me or you don’t. If you do, I’ll need a retainer fee, a draw every now and then for expenses, and the balance when you’re father is declared innocent.”

 

“What if he ain’t declared innocent?” Hoss’s blue eyes drilled straight into Dallas’s brown ones.

 

“Then you owe me nothing as far as the balance goes. You have the right to seek another lawyer. But I’m the best. I have to be. This is a man’s world and I have to work double time to go toe-to-toe against William Coleman or any other man. He’s very good – or so I’ve heard. Judge Ellerbee despises me because I’m a woman, but he just loves a good trial.” Here, Dallas’s lips twitched. “Of course, that doesn’t keep him from being a horse’s ass. I can work around that. I know the law better than he does – I proved that already. Now, you three, make up your minds if you want for me to represent your father or not. I doubt you carry a large amount of money on you, so you can have your bank wire it to me. If you choose another lawyer, tell me now before I start putting the pieces of the puzzle together.”

 

Something unspoken took place in the glances which passed between Adam, Hoss and Joe. Adam spoke. “I’ll wire the bank when we leave here. You’ll have your money tomorrow.”

 

“Good,” was all Dallas said. “One of you stop and get him several sets of clothing to wear. I don’t imagine he’s the kind of man who likes to loll around in dirty and dusty clothes. We’ll also go see your father and take him some good food from “The Royal Diner”. Best food in Carson City – inexpensive, delicious, and lots of it. ”

 

“Do you have to go with us?” Joe asked. “We don’t need a chaperone to see out own Pa.”

 

“I told you before that Ellerbee is paranoid. If he thinks a scheme is being cooked up between the four of you, we’ll really have a problem. Why he thinks that I’m incapable of aiding and abetting is beyond me. I’ll be so quiet that you won’t even know I’m there.”

 

Dallas stood up and headed towards the door, bumping Adam as he leaned against the wall again. He tripped slightly.

 

“For a big man, you’re not very sturdy, are you?” Once again, Dallas’s full lips twitched as if she were holding back a smile.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

Adam set off to send the wire. Joe went in another direction to buy extra clothes for his father. Hoss went in yet another direction to get food from “The Royal.” When they all got to the jail, Dallas was already there, engaged in deep discussion with Ben. Dallas had already told Rex, the sheriff, to bring in some chairs so that the Cartwrights would be as comfortable as possible. Though there were three cells, Ben was the only prisoner which enabled the Cartwrights and Dallas to speak freely.

 

“I sent the wire,” Adam reported. “You’ll have your retainer fee tomorrow. I picked up some soap and towels along the way.” He reached through the bars of the cell and grasped Ben’s shoulder.

 

“I got clothes for Pa,” Joe added. He gave his father’s hand a squeeze. 

 

“Do I need to check them for dynamite, bayonets or shotguns?” Dallas asked. She had a slight twinkle in her eye and gave barely a glance at what Joe was holding. Pause. “Nah, I doubt you’re hiding anything like that. Pass them on through the cell bars.”

 

Hoss carefully put four plates down on the chairs and then passed a plate to his father. The aroma of roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and fresh biscuits filled the air. Ben smiled warmly at his middle son and grasped his arm gently.

 

These displays of affection were not wasted on Dallas’s eagle eyes. She recognized love when she saw it. 

 

“Sit down, all of you, and let’s eat before the food gets cold!” Dallas reached for a plate and the utensils that came with it.

 

“Mister Cartwright, you’re not going to slit your wrists with that knife, are you? Or jab yourself in the eye with the fork? Or use the spoon to dig out of jail?”

 

Ben actually laughed. He had already established a bond with this woman who would make the difference between life and death.

 

“Not while you’re watching me,” came his answer, his eyes twinkling and his lips lifting into a smile. He was hungrier than he thought and began to eat.

 

Adam leaned back against the wall in his chair as he ate. Hoss and Joe sat with all four legs of their chairs firmly on the floor. Dallas looked at Adam.

 

“Good Lord! He even leans when he eats! Does he ever not lean?”

 

“Seldom,” Ben laughed. It felt so good to laugh, for a few moments to almost forget that he was in jail, charged with murder, and might be hanged.

 

As they ate, Dallas was full of questions – mostly directed at Ben’s sons. Her mind grabbed each response like a steel trap. The atmosphere was relaxed as much as it could be under these circumstances until the door to the office banged open and Judge Ellerbee’s voice could be heard.

 

“Hell!” Dallas swore. “We were having such a good time…”

 

The Judge entered the room. “What is all this? A Kumbaya party?” He looked disdainfully at each of the five people.

 

“We’re eating,” Dallas retorted. “I’m keeping my eyes and ears open for anything suspicious. There’s nothing odd about the conversations.”

 

“I’m glad to see that you’re doing your job.” The way Ellerbee stated this, it sounded more like an insult than a compliment. “Well, I’ll be on my way then.”

 

When he turned to leave, Dallas put a small bit of mashed potatoes in her spoon. Taking careful aim, she puled back on the handle of the spoon and let the potatoes fly, hitting Ellerbee smack in the back of his collar. He didn’t seem to notice as he exited the office.

 

“Damn!” Dallas swore, shaking her head. “I must be losing my touch. I meant to hit him in the head!”

 

The room went silent. Then Adam chuckled, lost his balance in his chair and somehow toppled over onto the floor. Hoss gawked at Dallas. Joe giggled. And Ben actually guffawed!

 

Rex entered the room in the midst of the merriment. “Don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know. Dallas undoubtedly did or said something that could be construed as socially unacceptable.” Pause. “I hope you can tell me about it some day. I can always use a good laugh.”

 

“You really don’t like Judge Ellerbee, do you?” Ben asked as he tried to calm himself.

 

“No, I really don’t,” came the answer. Dallas sighed. “That man is a perfect example of a mother throwing out the baby and keeping the afterbirth!”

 

In the stunned silence that followed, Rex shouted, “I heard that! Couldn’t have put it better myself!” His laughter from the front of the jail could clearly be heard and then was drowned out by the uproarious laughter from the area of the jail cells.

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

The hour had grown late and it was time to leave Rex’s office. Dallas pretended to busy herself collecting the dirty plates – being sure to count all the eating utensils – while Adam, Hoss and Joe said “good night” to their father. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see much hand-grasping between father and sons. The love flowing from Cartwright to Cartwright was so strong that Dallas could actually feel it. Her unseen smile was bittersweet.

 

As they passed through Rex’s office to the front door, Rex didn’t even look up from his perusal of “Wanted” posters. “All the utensils are there, I assume?” he asked. He already knew the answer.

 

“All present and accounted for, but you can re-check if you’d like,” Dallas answered.

 

Rex waved his hand in dismissal. “You’ll be back tomorrow?”

 

“Absolutely,” Dallas answered. “I’ll see that breakfast is sent over – enough for all of us.”

 

Rex stood and reached into his pocket for money. Dallas shook her head.

 

“The Cartwrights’ retainer fee includes all meals. Nobody but you can see Mister Cartwright alone. And the sons can’t see their father without me. And I require food at least three times a day. This way, we all get fed.”

 

Rex sat back down. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

 

“Well, when we leave, be sure to bar the door and lock the windows and keep your shotgun loaded. You have a dangerous and violent desperado locked up, you know.” Dallas’s voice dripped with sarcasm as Adam opened the front door and they made their exit. They could hear Rex’s chuckle before the door closed behind them.

 

Hoss took the dirty plates and utensils from Dallas. “Lemme tote these for ya. You must be about done in from workin’ all day and, ‘sides, I don’t wantcha to get yer clothes all dirty.”

 

Dallas, under the dim light from the lantern outside of the Rex’s office, looked into Hoss’s gentle blue eyes. 

 

“Thank you, Hoss,” she said quietly. “My clothes are muddy, and the little bit of food that’s left won’t make any difference in my appearance but, you’re right, I am a bit tired. Let’s take these things back to the Royal. I need to talk to the cook.”

 

Like a mother duck with her ducklings, Dallas strode to the Diner and went in through the back door. She searched for and found Rosalita, the cook. A young man took the dinnerware from Hoss as Dallas and Rosalita carried on a long conversation in Spanish. Rosalita smiled and nodded her head as Dallas gathered her “ducklings” together to exit the Diner.

 

“What was that all about?” Joe asked. He was beginning to learn to expect the unexpected from Dallas.

 

“Just making sure that we all get the best-of-the-best for each meal. Other eateries don’t care what they serve at the jail, but Rosalita does care.” Pause. “Besides, we can afford the best food. As I told Rex, you all are footing the bill.” Her brown eyes twinkled.

 

“We’ll walk you home,” Adam announced. It wasn’t a question but rather a statement of fact.

 

“You can walk me to my office,” came the answer.

 

“We’ll walk you home,” Adam persisted.

 

Dallas rolled her eyes. “My office is my home. It’s where I eat, sleep, work and live.”

 

Hoss, astounded, half-whispered, “You live in yer office? How come, Miz Dallas?”

 

“Just ‘Dallas’, Hoss,” Dallas responded. “We’re all going to be on a first-name basis. As to my office being my home, it’s cheaper. Few folks in Carson City have any trust for a female attorney. I can’t afford both an office and a place to live, so I make do with what’s in my budget.” There was no ring of self-pity in her voice. It was a statement of fact.

 

Outside her office door, two gray-headed women passed by. “Good evening, Mrs. Tidwell. Lovely night, isn’t it, Mrs. Franklin?”

 

The women peered through their eyeglasses at Dallas and her “entourage.” They nodded a greeting and scurried on down the boardwalk.

 

“Oh, my Lord!” Dallas sighed as she unlocked her office door. “In a day or two, those two gossipers will have spread the word that I am sleeping with three men – all at the same time!”

 

Joe’s jaw dropped. Hoss’s blue eyes grew as big as pie plates. Adam leaned against the door jamb. “Are we paying for that too?”

 

“No. That’s a freebie,” Dallas hissed as she went through the door and began to close it. “Be at Rex’s office at nine in the morning. I’ll meet you there. Good night.” The door closed just a little too loudly.

 

“Adam, you made her mad!” This from Joe. Hoss was still googly-eyed.

 

“Nah, she’s not mad. I think she kind of likes verbal sparring.” Adam grinned as he and his brothers walked to the St. Charles Hotel. (Author’s Note: This is the second oldest hotel in Nevada and was built in 1862. It’s upstairs floors are still used as a hotel with the bottom floors used as a pub. The Gold Hill Hotel was built in 1861 in Virginia City, Nevada.)

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Dallas was out of breath as she ran through Rex’s doorway earlier than she had told the brothers to meet her there. Rosalita had not yet brought breakfast, but Adam, Hoss and Joe had already arrived and were sitting in the outer office talking to Rex. Adam was leaning back in a chair, Hoss was sitting “properly,” and Joe was pacing. Their guns, of course and as usual, were on Rex’s desk.

 

“Good! You’re already here! Come with me – all of you!” It wasn’t a request – it was a command.

 

“I can’t leave Mister Cartwright here alone,” protested Rex. He was right.

 

“Well, go drag Bart out of the Diner and bring him here. Tell Rosalita to wait before she fixes the breakfasts.” Dallas was practically panting.

 

“I can’t leave any of you folks here by yourselves,” Rex answered. Again, he was right. Only he and his deputy, Bart Wiggins, were in charge of guarding a prisoner held for murder.

 

Dallas stamped her foot angrily. “Do what I say and do it now! I won’t tell if you won’t! When Bart is here, come to the Ellerbee’s office. Hurry up!”

 

Rex had never seen Dallas in such a state before. He sped out the door to fetch Bart.

 

Grabbing Adam by the arm and yanking him to his feet, the diminutive Dallas hissed, “Why do you always have to lean. One day you’ll break your fool neck when you fall over. Come with me!”

 

Dallas released Adam’s arm and turned her gaze toward a still-seated Hoss. Joe had stopped pacing and was standing stock-still.

 

“Move your asses!” Dallas hollered. 

 

Outside the door were several boards, about two feet wide and several inches thick. “Hoss, grab those, please. We might need them.”

 

Not wanting to be shouted at again, Hoss picked up the boards and hurried down the street behind Dallas, Adam and Joe. They reached an office whose sign read “Lucius Ellerbee, Judge and Attorney-at-Law.” Dallas yanked open the door and strode in, pointing wordlessly for the brothers to sit down in the empty chairs. Rex entered only seconds later. William Coleman was there and looked most unhappy – but not nearly as disgruntled as Judge Ellerbee appeared to be.

 

“Miz Montgomery, you’d better have good reasons to drag me here instead of allowing me to do my job by sitting in court where I should be.”

 

Dallas’s face was flushed but she spoke in an even tone. “You’re not due in court for at least an hour. I checked.”

 

“I demand to know why we’re here to begin with,” Coleman growled. “And who’s keeping watch over the prisoner?”

 

“Your Honor,” Rex said, standing up. “Bart is with the pris…uh…Mister Cartwright.”

 

“And this is why we’re here,” Dallas said, fishing several pieces of paper from her purse and plopping them in front of the Judge.

 

“This first one is a ‘Motion To Dismiss The Criminal Complaint’,” said Ellerbee shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“Yes, sir, it is. There are not enough facts to entertain ‘probable cause’ to believe that the Defendant committed the offense of murder.”

 

“Denied!” Ellerbee announced sharply. He then looked at the second piece of paper.

 

“This is a ‘Motion To Request Bond’.” He shook his head. “Denial of Bond has already been ordered. It stands.”

 

Adam, Hoss and Joe could see Dallas only from their vantage point. But her back was ramrod straight and her voice was all business.

 

“I have written out two precedents that will establish rulings for rescinding that denial. If you would read further down the page, you’ll see them very clearly.”

 

Ellerbee rubbed his temples in frustration. Dallas was right.

 

“All right, Miz Montgomery. I will rescind the ‘Order of Denial of Bond’ and will set a bail amount.” The amount he mentioned was astronomical. 

 

Coleman grinned. The prisoner would surely remain in jail. All Dallas seemed to be accomplishing was to irritate the Judge.

 

Dallas turned to Adam, Hoss and Joe. “Is there any way that you can meet that amount?” There was no expression on her face.

 

The brothers looked at each other. Adam looked again at Dallas and knew she had something up her sleeve. And then it dawned on him. He whispered to Hoss and Joe and then turned and faced the Judge. “We can meet that amount, Your Honor. But we will have to send a wire to Virginia City to get it.”

 

Ellerbee was fascinated. “How do you propose to meet that amount of bail?”

 

“By using the deed to the Ponderosa as collateral. Our home, the land, the trees, the livestock – everything we own.”

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

“Do you realize what you’re saying? Doing? Agreeing to? If your father flees, you lose it all!” Judge Ellerbee could hardly speak.

 

In unison, the Cartwrights’ heads nodded in assent.

 

“Your Honor,” Dallas said in that business-like tone, “do you think for one single minute that a father would skip jail and disappear, leaving his sons homeless and penniless? Mister Cartwright has a stellar reputation. He wouldn’t do that to his sons. Besides, the Ponderosa is worth ten times more than the bail amount.”

 

The Judge was not unfamiliar with Ben’s reputation. He knew that Dallas was right.

 

He thought for a moment. “What if some hothead shoots the Defendant while he wanders around, free as a bird?”

 

“Then it can’t be said that the Defendant was escaping. He’ll just be dead. The deed to the Ponderosa will be returned to the sons.”

 

Ellerbee sighed. “Send the wire to the Land Office. All I need to know is that the Deed to the Ponderosa is free and clear with no encumbrances.”

 

Adam stood up but sat down again when Dallas spoke. “There’s one more paper to look at. You’ll have the guarantee of bail, but I am requesting that the members of the jury, the alternates, the whole Cartwright family, Rex, Doctor Martin, Mister Coleman and his client be allowed to go to Virginia City to look at the crime scene. It is their right to do so. I propose to re-enact what we can only surmise as to what happened on the day of the murder. This will be the only time that Mister Cartwright will be allowed to leave Carson City.”

 

Ellerbee glared. “And who will foot the bill for this little ‘jaunt’?”

 

“The Cartwrights will, of course. It’s included in their retainer fee.”

 

Adam choked down his laughter. Hoss and Joe covered their mouths. No wonder Dallas charged so much!

 

“Very well, Miz Montgomery. But it will be up to you or your assigns to procure the wagons and the horses and the money to pay for meals when folks get hungry.”

 

“I don’t plan for us to linger. Virginia City is only about fifteen miles away. If we leave soon, we’ll be back before or right at dark. Nobody will go hungry – not even the horses.”

 

“You forgot to mention taking guards.”

 

“I won’t need any. Rex will be there. So will Adam, Hoss and Joe. They will be armed. And then there’s me.”

 

Ellerbee snorted. “You?

 

“I’m not very tall and give the appearance of looking helpless. Appearances are deceiving. Shall I prove this to you?”

 

“Yes! I won’t be responsible for a woman being hurt.”

 

Dallas turned to Hoss. “Will you bring up those boards please? Let the Judge look at them and feel how strong they are.” 

 

This being accomplished and satisfactory to the Judge as to the strength of the boards, Dallas spoke.

 

“Adam and Joe, please move back several feet. And will you hold each end of two of the boards about chest high? Hoss, move back several feet completely out of the way.”

 

All eyes were on Dallas as she pulled the back of her dress up through her legs – conscious that she was showing more of her body than made her comfortable. But this was necessary. She took off one shoe. She looked serenely at the boards and then spun like a top with a yell and kicked the boards with one leg extended, breaking the boards right down the middle. While everybody watched in stunned silence, she propped two more boards on two chairs set apart from each other. Taking another deep breath and with another yell, she broke the boards – again down the middle – with one hand.

 

Triumphantly, she faced Ellerbee. “If that board had been your neck, your head would have flown straight out the window. I can defend myself – or anybody else.” She put her shoe back on and smoothed her dress back into place.

 

William Coleman found his voice first. “What was that?”

 

“It’s an ancient form of martial arts – a style used for self-defense, hand-to-hand combat, and can be combined with weapons-use. In English, it’s called ‘Kung fu’. In Chinese, it’s called ‘Zhonggouo wushu’. One wears a specific sash color to show how advanced they have become in this form of practice. One begins with a white sash and ends with a black one, but it’s a long process with different colors in the middle as he or she progresses.” (Author’s Note: Kung fu uses the word “sash” instead of “belt.”)

 

The Judge slumped wearily. “I hate to ask, but what color sash do you have?”

 

“Black. The highest you can get.”

 

“You, Miz Montgomery, are a thorn in my side. Get out of here right now before you have time to think of something else to ask or do. Out! Out! And don’t forget to send that wire and have the answer delivered to me. Miz Montgomery probably has it already hidden on her anyway. Out!”

 

The Judge fled in one direction and William Coleman fled in another. Hoss was left holding the pieces of wood, shaking his head in wonderment. Said he to his brothers, “I couldn’t have done that without crippling myself for life!”

 

Dallas, unscathed, galvanized the brothers into action. “Adam, send the wire and ask for an immediate return. Be sure to tell the telegrapher to take the response to the Judge immediately – even if he’s already on the Bench. Joe, get enough wagons and horses to carry all of us. We’ll need a buggy for just Ben and me. Rex, get the jurors and Doctor Martin and Attorney Coleman and Amos Bondurant. Don’t forget to bring the guns on your desk and a shotgun to boot. I’ll ask Rosalita to put together a whole bunch of food and water and lemonade and cookies. We’ll bring it with us. We have one hour and will meet at the livery stable. Now go!”

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

In less than an hour, every task had been fulfilled and all persons were present at the livery stable. People were shoved, almost unceremoniously, into wagons where huge baskets of food and drink were hurriedly placed. Rex got Ben and Dallas settled into the buggy with yet another basket of food and handed the shotgun to Dallas.

 

Adam and his siblings barely had time to greet their father or to give much of an explanation – they were busy strapping on their guns and checking their horses’ saddle cinches. Adam leaned against the buggy wheel and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Stop that leaning. This isn’t a casual affair to take lightly. And uncross your arms – it’s a defensive gesture! And besides that, it drives me to the brink of insanity!” Dallas hissed.

 

Adam, unruffled, leaned for a minute longer and then climbed onto Sport’s back, smiling the whole time. 

 

Hoss scratched his head. “How come you and Pa are riding in the buggy alone?”

 

“Not that I’m worried, but one buggy is easier to protect than those wagons full of people who don’t need protection.” Dallas’s voice was kinder than the tone she had used with Adam.

 

With a twinkle in his eye, Adam leaned down and asked why Rex had given Dallas the shotgun.

 

“So I can shoot your father if he tries to escape,” Dallas answered sarcastically. “If there’s trouble, the rest of you might end up shooting each other by mistake!”

 

With a quick flick of the reins, Dallas began the procession at a quick trot. Rex and Adam hurried to get ahead of her, while Hoss and Joe took their places on each side of the buggy, but not before Joe could make an observation.

 

“Pa hasn’t said a single word. I wonder why?”

 

Hoss’s reply was, “He’s prob’ly skeered to open his mouth. I don’t blame him none. That little gal skeers me!”

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

For almost two miles, neither Ben nor Dallas said a word. Dallas had been tense, and Ben was still in a state of confusion.

 

Using one of her favorite phrases, Dallas looked at Ben. “That went well, don’t you think?” Her posture began to relax a bit.

 

“If you would be so kind,” Ben began, “would you please tell me what’s going on? Is it even legal?”

 

It was Dallas’s turn to look confused. “Didn’t Rex tell you?”

 

“All he told me was that we were going to Virginia City and to hurry because there were a bunch of people waiting for us. He grabbed up my sons’ guns and a shotgun and practically shoved me into the street. I saw him give you the shotgun which, unfortunately, is pointed across your lap in my direction. You’re not planning to shoot me, are you?”

 

“Are you planning to clonk me on the head or try to molest me?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then I guess I won’t shoot you. Besides, I took the shells out of the chambers almost as soon as Rex gave me the gun.” Pause. “Do you plan to molest me?”

 

Ben coughed. “Absolutely not”

 

“What a pity. Ah, well, a gal can hope, can’t she?” Dallas began to giggle.

 

Ben’s deep laugh caught Joe’s attention. It occurred to him that this was not a trip for fun but rather a trip to visit a murder scene. Joe rode a little bit ahead of the buggy and looked back at Hoss. He had heard his father laugh and found it odd. He looked at Joe, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Adam and Rex were far enough ahead to have heard nothing.

 

“I’ll explain all of this to you so you’ll know what’s going on.” Dallas put the shotgun down by her side. “I had several ideas last night that turned out to be both good and surprising. This morning, I had to check the Judge’s calendar in the courthouse to make sure he’d be in his office. Then I had to gather the Prosecutor and Amos and tell them to meet me there. I had told your sons last night to meet me at Rex’s office for breakfast, so all I had to do was to get Rex to find Bart to sit in the office. You might have slipped through the bars and escaped without having a babysitter, you know.” Bits of a smile played about Dallas’s full lips.

 

Ben, as was his nature, was listening patiently.

 

Dallas continued. “Judge Ellerbee is a creature of habit. He is always in his office first thing in the morning. He still is an attorney when he isn’t playing Judge, and he has paperwork to at least look at. Anyway, the first thing I did was to file a Motion for your case to be dismissed because it’s based on conjecture. I wasn’t surprised when he denied it. He just loves a murder trial, whether the Defendant is innocent or guilty. He loves the excitement – which I find most peculiar in a Judge…”

 

Dallas slowed her horse down to a fast walk. “The next idea was to have you freed on bail. He thought he could call my bluff by announcing an atrocious amount of money for your bond. I looked at Adam first. He’s the eldest. Now, I don’t believe in reading people’s minds, but I swear that he read mine. He took only seconds to whisper to Hoss and Joe and then stared Ellerbee in the eye and announced that he could make your bail – by putting up the Ponderosa as collateral.”

 

Ben’s jaw dropped. And then his eyes got misty. His lips quivered slightly. He couldn’t speak.

 

“Those boys love you so much that they would rather lose the Ponderosa than to see you sit in a jail cell one more night. They know you’re innocent.”

 

“And you?” Ben croaked.

 

Dallas looked deeply into Ben’s eyes. “I know you’re innocent too. My gut feeling tells me so. You’ve had three wives – and lost them all. But I’ll bet you that you were told by each of them, more than once, that they ‘just had a feeling’…”

 

Ben, still emotional, nodded his assent.

 

“Men laugh about women and their ‘intuition’. They make fun of it and don’t understand it. My mother used to tell me it’s because a woman has a uterus which allows her that ‘sixth sense’. Men, of course, are born with a second brain which is practically useless when they use it to think with.”

 

Ben roared with laughter – a sound which carried all the way up to Rex and Adam. Adam joined his brothers and leaned forward in his saddle as the three rode alongside the buggy. 

 

“Is everything all right, Pa?” Adam asked.

 

“If you had a uterus, you’d know the answer to that, son!” Ben laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. 

 

Adam stared at his father and then looked at his brothers. Hoss’s face was beet-red, and Joe was looking everywhere but at his father. The word “uterus” was not unknown to any of them but there was never a reason to make mention of one.

 

Adam looked at Dallas – whose face was the very picture of innocence. Except for the bright sparkle in her eyes.

 

“I’m like Rex. I don’t want to know what that means – not now and probably not ever,” Adam said curtly. 

 

“Pa?” This from Hoss.

 

“Everything’s fine, son. Dallas and I are having the best talk. She’s explained to me about the bail money. You did right, all three of you. I would’ve done the same thing if I’d been in your shoes. I’m very, very proud of you. Thank you.”

 

Adam smiled, sat up straight in the saddle and rode ahead to catch up with Rex. Hoss and Joe dropped back by the rear wheels of the buggy. All three sons felt a deep sense of relief. And pride. And love.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

“You are blessed with an extraordinary family, Ben,” Dallas said quietly.

 

“I am, indeed.” Ben paused for a moment. “You haven’t finished the rest of what’s going on. Has there been another change of venue?”

 

“No change of venue. But I found two innocuous precedents that allow for the Plaintiff, the Defendant, the attorneys, and the jurors to investigate the scene of a murder. More precisely, certain matters may be re-enacted. But I had to get bail for you first so that you could be there. You are not free to go to the Ponderosa, visit friends, go into Virginia City, or to talk about the case with anyone except me and your sons – and, with my permission, Attorney Coleman. That includes members of the jury and Rex. When we stop for lunch, we will have to sit apart from the others. They will be watching you to see how you act. We will not laugh or make jokes. This is a very serious matter and we must be sure to treat it as such.”

 

“I understand. But can I send one of my sons back to the Ponderosa? I can tend to paperwork and contracts and the like while I’m in Carson City. Those are things that Hop Sing can’t tend to.”

 

“Hop Sing? Who would that be?” Dallas was taken off-guard.

 

“He’s our Chinese cook mostly. But he keeps the house spotlessly clean, keeps our clothes washed and ironed, has ancient remedies for a myriad of maladies, and he often imparts great wisdom when an objective opinion is needed. Hop Sing has been with us since Joe was a youngster. He’s as much a part of the family as my sons are. There are some folks who say that Hop Sing really runs the Ponderosa and that I’m there only to sign the name ‘Cartwright’. Sometimes I wonder if that’s not hitting the nail on the head.”

 

“Can Hop Sing keep a secret – just for the time we’re at the Bondurant ranch?”

 

“Absolutely! If it has anything to do with protecting any of us, he would allow his pigtail to be cut off and not say a word!”

 

Dallas nodded. “I know something about the Chinese culture. I am well-aware of what that pigtail means to its owner. A Chinese man with no pigtail goes straight to what we call ‘Hell’. I take it that Hop Sing speaks and understands English.”

 

“He understands a lot more than he lets on. He speaks it fairly well but I think that’s a ruse. His sentences are choppy and there’s that problem with pronouncing the letter ‘r’…”

 

“’Very’ becomes ‘velly’, for instance.” Dallas showed her understanding of Ben’s explanation. She had a faraway look in her eyes for several seconds. Then, “The answer is ‘yes’ as to whether you can send one of your sons to the Ponderosa. If you trust Hop Sing – and the son that you send – to keep their mouths shut about where we are and what we’re doing, then I will trust them too.”

 

Dallas had one hand holding the reins with the other hand resting on her leg. Ben covered her hand with his own and squeezed it slightly, allowing his hand to linger just a wee bit too long. Dallas felt a delightful tingling sensation shoot through her and dared not look at Ben lest he see it somehow – in her eyes or on her face.

 

“Are you trying to molest me?” she asked, trying to make a joke and hide her reaction to Ben’s touch.

 

“No, not at the moment. I do my best molesting when there aren’t other people around.” 

 

Dallas could hear his smile and relaxed as she felt him move his hand away.

 

“You, sir, are a roué!” Dallas giggled.

 

“I try,” Ben chuckled.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

Adam had been very careful about the route that the entourage took so that the chances of Ben being seen and thus starting gossiping and conjecture were practically nil. The trip took a little longer this way but Rex had agreed that it was safer. People had liked Marcus Bondurant and were quite fond of Amos – the possibility of some idiot out to avenge Marcus’s death couldn’t be ruled out. 

 

Holding up his hand, Adam signaled that it was time to stop. The horses needed a rest and the people in the wagons were so cramped and eager to get out that they almost fell on top of each other making their hasty exits. Under any other circumstances, the scene would have been comical. Two wagon-loads of men plopped down in the grass and began plunging their hands into the food baskets – some of them hadn’t had time to even eat breakfast before the trip.

 

Ben looked around the sides of the buggy. “At the rate they’re eating, there’ll be nothing left for the trip back to Carson City.”

 

“Damn!” Dallas swore. “I didn’t think of that!”

 

“Why don’t I send Adam straight on to the Ponderosa now – it’s not that far away. Hop Sing will feel more…included…if he’s allowed to provide some kind of an easy evening meal for everybody.”

 

“That’s the perfect solution to a snag I hadn’t thought about! Will Hop Sing really be okay with preparing food so quickly for such a large group of folks?” Dallas’s face looked hopeful.

 

“You don’t know Hop Sing. He’d be insulted if we didn’t ask for his help!” Ben smiled.

 

“Hop Sing sounds like quite a man. I hope I can meet him soon.” Pause. “Remember what I said about displaying a serious demeanor. And don’t forget that you’re going to be the object of a lot of stares. Hoss and Joe and you and I can sit over there a ways in that grassy spot.”

 

“I haven’t forgotten,” Ben whispered as he climbed down from the buggy. Then he reached up to swing Dallas down from the high seat the two had shared. 

 

When Ben’s hands closed around her waist, she could feel their strength. Her hands on his shoulders felt the bunching of his muscles and, once again, she felt a surge of…excitement? Ben was a very handsome man – a fact that she was reminded of every time she looked at him. But that wasn’t the reason she felt he was innocent. Her gut feeling was strong – this man would not commit murder nor would he run from a trial. If he happened to be found guilty, he would go to the gallows with his head held high and his back straight. And it’s all up to me to make sure that doesn’t happen.

 

Ben grabbed the large basket of food from behind the seat of the buggy. He motioned to Hoss, Joe, and then to Adam to come share the meal. Rex was savvy and strolled away from his “prisoner” to sit with Attorney Coleman and Amos Bondurant. They had chosen a place to eat a short distance away from the jurors. Their faces were solemn.

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

Dallas sat down and Ben placed the basket in front of her. Then he drew Adam aside, spoke quietly to him, and then Adam rode away in the direction of the Ponderosa. His mind wandered as he rode. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he was developing a growing fascination with Dallas, probably because her actions and what she said were so unpredictable. But there was something more…something that he couldn’t describe exactly. 

 

Ben sat down fairly close to Dallas, but Hoss and Joe kept a little distance between themselves and the attorney. These two brothers were wary of her, not just because she was unpredictable but because of what they’d seen her do this morning. 

 

Again Dallas explained quietly that everyone’s demeanor must remain serious – no joking or playing around or laughing. When she suddenly reached out food to hand to Joe, he jumped. When he jumped, so did Hoss.

 

“What’s the matter? Did you two get stung by bees?” Ben asked, concern in his voice.

 

Joe took the food that had been handed to him, a look of relief on his face. 

 

Hoss found his voice. “Uh, no, Pa. It’s just that…well…Joe and me…well…we misunderstood what Miz Dallas was doin’.”

 

Dallas’s expression didn’t change. She handed Hoss his share of lunch while letting Ben help himself. Then she pulled a sandwich from the over-full basket for herself.

 

Ben was definitely confused. “She was handing Joe his food! He nearly jumped out of his skin and then so did you! Is there something scary about that – something I should know?”

 

“I thought, just for a minute, that she was gonna hit me,” Joe, totally embarrassed, admitted. Hoss nodded in agreement.

 

“Hit you?” Ben echoed. “Why would she do that?”

 

“’Cause of what she done this mornin’ at the Judge’s office,” Hoss responded as he prepared to take a bite out of his sandwich. “Didn’t she tell you about it?”

 

Ben looked at Dallas. Were her lips twitching slightly upwards into a smile?

 

“No,” Ben answered slowly, “she didn’t tell me anything that would cause you to think you’d be hit. But somebody better explain – and right now!” Ben didn’t have to try to look serious because he was serious.

 

While Hoss chewed, Joe spoke. “She put on quite a show for Judge Ellerbee. He didn’t think she could protect you from harm, so she showed him that she could. She broke boards with her foot and then broke another one with her hand.”

 

Ben looked completely perplexed. Dallas put on her “innocent” face.

 

“She did, Pa! I swear!” Hoss took a swig of lemonade. “When she fetched us from Rex’s office, she had a bunch of boards for me to tote. When the Judge said you was free on bail and that we could come to Marcus’s place, he asked who was gonna protect you if anything happened. She said she would. I reckon the Judge didn’t believe her – so she showed him.”

 

Ben shook his head while Dallas pretended to concentrate on eating her sandwich.

 

“Hoss, what do boards have to do with her ability to protect me? Was she planning on nailing boards around me in the buggy?”

 

Joe, seeing that Hoss’s mouth was full, answered. “If we wait for Hoss to get to the point, we’ll be here all day. Hoss and I held the ends of two boards – each one more than an inch thick – about as high as our chests. She kicked those boards with her bare foot and broke them straight down the middle!”

 

“She did, Pa! And then she pulled up two chairs, propped the ends of ’em on each chair, and laid two more boards on top of each other so’s there was nothing under the middle of ’em. And she screeched and hit them boards with one bare hand. Broke ’em right in two! I ain’t never seen nuthin’ like it! And she ain’t even hurt!”

 

Ben looked at Dallas. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and muttered, “Guilty.” Then, “Would you like for me to explain?”

 

“Please do,” came Ben’s answer.

 

“Well, eat up while I talk. We can’t dawdle the day away. Everyone else is almost finished.”

 

Ben jammed half a sandwich into his mouth, chewing with vigor.

 

“Have you heard of the ancient art of self-defense?”

 

Ben nodded as he chewed. Hoss and Joe moved closer so that they could hear this again.

 

“Well, it may be ancient but it’s still in practice today. There are various names for it from each culture, but what I did today is now called ‘Kung fu’. It can turn out to be a deadly form of self-defense by using one’s hands and/or feet as weapons. It’s very regimented – almost like the choreography of a difficult dance. As one progresses, knives and other sharp objects can be used quite effectively. But I don’t happen to carry a knife or a saber or a sword or anything.”

 

Ben was mesmerized. Hoss and Joe looked like they had gone into a trance.

 

“Being trained in any martial art is like going to school. One masters basic moves and, when those become second nature, that person is judged by higher-ups as to whether the next level should be recommended. There are many, many levels. After completing each level, the trainee is given a belt or a sash of a different color. In Kung fu, a white sash shows that the trainee is a beginner. The colors change according to the person’s abilities. I took lessons for many years – the training is intense and doesn’t last for just an hour or so. It can be an all-day session. It trains the mind and the body to focus, to concentrate.”

 

Ben had eaten three sandwiches in a row. He downed a full jar of lemonade. “I used to be a ship’s captain. I recall hearing of such practices but never saw it in practice. It’s not something that one plays at unless one is in training due to the fact that it is deadly if done wrong or if mistakes are made.”

 

Dallas nodded. “I don’t advertise that I’m trained. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t either. If I’m ever attacked, let it be hand-to-hand rather than by a gun. I can’t stop a bullet in mid-air.”

 

Lunchtime was over. People began hitching horses and boarding wagons and cinching saddles. As Dallas had predicted, they had been watched by everybody. Including eyes that they didn’t know were there…evil eyes…

 

Adam arrived with a pack horse laden with food. “Hop Sing just about cleaned out the smokehouse and the cupboards.” He wanted to laugh but remembered that he needed to appear serious. “I swore him to secrecy. He says ‘house too quiet’. That means he misses us.” 

 

As Dallas handed him a couple of sandwiches, he shook his head. “I ate at home.”

 

Dallas did a quick eye-roll. “If I’d known that, I’d have eaten more. I saved some food for you. But I’ll eat in the buggy – Ben can drive.”

 

Rex rode up and asked no questions about the pack horse. He and Adam took their place at the head of the queue. Strong hands lifted Dallas into the buggy – she felt that “thrill” again – the same one that she had felt when Ben had helped her out of the buggy. You silly goose. You’ve just been alone too long. Don’t let the touch of a man’s hands get to you. Ben Cartwright is your client. And Adam Cartwright is his son. Remember that this is not a day to frolic – a man’s fate is in your hands!

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

Ben was quiet and deep in thought. Out of the blue, as the buggy rocked along, he asked, “What color sash do you have and what does it mean?”

 

“Black. The highest.” 

 

With the slightest of grins, Ben asked, “Does that mean I can’t molest you?”

 

“Not unless I allow it,” came Dallas’s answer. Her eyes twinkled.

 

“You know all about me. Now I want to know more about you.”

 

“Fair enough. I’ll try to anticipate your questions before you ask them. Let’s see if my ‘uterus’ is on target.” 

 

Ben coughed to disguise the laughter that insisted on bubbling up.

 

“I’ll bet you want to know how old I am but are too much of a gentleman to ask. Well, a lady never divulges her age, so I’ll tell you that I am a few years older than Adam and a few years younger than you. Am I married? No, but I was once. No, I don’t have any children – I wanted to but things didn’t go the way I wanted them to go. What’s my educational background as far as my law degree is concerned? I’ve already told you that I’m a summa cum laude graduate from Harvard Law School with degrees in both civil and criminal law. I worked for many years at a prestigious law firm back East until I decided to leave them and become a Public Defender. I have an extraordinarily good track record as far as practicing law. Other than that, I have a degree in teaching, a degree in linguistics, and a degree in economics. I like being in charge of things. I love to read – just about any book will do. I enjoy good food, good wine but not to excess, a cigarette every now and then, and good company. I’m also persnickety about the kind of company that I keep, so I have few friends. The ones that I do have are true friends, and I can always count on them when I need them.”

 

She took a breath and looked at Ben. “How’m I doing so far?”

 

“Amazingly well!” Ben answered. “But you’ve answered questions that I’d like to delve into a bit more. You were married but had no children? That’s really none of my business. You have quite a few degrees as far as schooling goes – why do you have so many?”

 

“To answer that question, I’ll have to go back to my childhood. You may be bored to tears.”

 

“I doubt it,” came the answer.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

Dallas looked into Ben’s eyes, into his face, and realized that he really was interested. 

 

“Can you keep your eyes on the horse and listen at the same time?” she asked, half in jest.

 

“I’m quite talented. I can manage to do two things at one time,” Ben quipped.

 

“Okay, then. Here we go. I was born in a very small town in the coal-country of Pennsylvania. I was an only child. My parents sparred over a name and came up with something they had seen on a piece of newspaper that we insulated our walls with. They both liked ‘Dallas’ because it was neither male nor female. Well, not to their way of thinking. My father worked in the mines, and my mother took in laundry that the rich folks couldn’t be bothered with. Hmmm… That sounds ugly, but it happens to be the truth. It was because my mom was so kind to even the snottiest ladies that she got to do the most laundry and got paid more than the other folks we lived around. Sometimes we’d get books or hand-me-down clothes or shoes or food, too. Times were hard and we had to stretch out what money we had.”

 

Dallas paused and then continued. “I know this sounds like I’m feeling sorry for myself, but I’m not. You see, we knew that there were some really rich people a few miles away, but we never thought of ourselves as being ‘poor’. You can’t miss what you never had. We learned how to work hard and not complain, and we worked from dawn to dusk. Even when we were very little. Our houses were all very close together and there were lots and lots of children for me to play with – which is how I became interested in linguistics. We taught families English and, in turn, they taught us German and Italian and French and Spanish and Chinese. I know a little Gaelic, too – enough to make myself understood. Children are much quicker than adults in picking up foreign languages, so we could teach our parents what we learned during the day. One miner had been a priest when he lived in Ireland, and he taught us Latin. I can still sing some Christmas carols in Latin, all the way through, though Latin is known as a ‘dead language’. It comes in handy in law, though, because so many legal terms are either in Latin or a derivative of Latin.”

 

Ben sang softly the first part of “Ave Maria.” (“Ave Maria, gratia plena. Maria gratia plena. Maria gratia plena” – “Hail Mary, full of grace. Mary full of grace. Mary full of grace.”)

 

Dallas smiled. “Ave, ave Dominus. Dominus sanctum.” (“Hail, hail God. Holy God.”)

 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Ben said quickly. “I think that’s the only song I know in Latin.”

 

“Once I get on a roll about my life, nothing can stop me,” Dallas responded. “You’ll just have to tell me when your ears are plumb worn out!”

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

“The ‘rich’ kids and the ‘poor’ kids all went to the same school. Surprisingly enough, some of us from the ‘poor side’ of town were actually smarter than the wealthier kids in a couple of subjects. We learned to count very early – like counting the number of seeds to put in a small garden or counting the number of clothing that was being washed to make sure that it all got back to the right person. All of our parents read the Bible every night and would point to each word until we could read really well. We shared what books we had and read them at night before bedtime. We could spell quite well. From the mixtures of all the different ethnicities, we learned about their cultures – truths and myths. Folks would draw maps and show us where they were from, so we knew some geography too. And we were blessed with a wonderful teacher who was patient and kind.”

 

Dallas took a swig of lemonade. “But there were bullies too. Many times I would come home crying because I had been made fun of for one reason or another. My father would sit down with me at night while my mother cooked supper and would listen while I whined about this kid or that kid. He told me that some kids were bullies because they didn’t feel good about themselves on the inside and so they would try to act superior on the outside. But he also told me that, if I kept my eyes peeled, I could spot a real bully just be the way he acted or talked or walked. He told me not to be afraid but to take the offensive as quickly as I could. By doing that, the bully would end up on the defensive and give me a wide berth. Mama would listen quietly and then remind me never, ever to be mean or to say something awful about things a person couldn’t help – a limp, a big birthmark, a crooked nose, or shabby clothing. She told me that I could stand up for myself without becoming a bully. ‘Kill ’em with kindness’, she would say. And both parents told me to always tell the truth. If one tells a lie, then that person has to remember what that lie was exactly. By telling the truth, you never have to remember exactly what you said because the truth is always the truth.”

 

Ben nodded. “Your parents were very wise to teach you so much. I tried to instill those same principles in my sons.”

 

“You did a very good job. They’re quite extraordinary men.” Dallas looked down at her feet and wrinkled her brow.

 

“What’s wrong?” There was concern in his voice. 

 

Dallas sighed. “I took the offensive immediately when your sons came to meet with me. I could tell by their faces that they were certainly not expecting a female lawyer. I spotted Adam as what I call ‘the alpha male’ – the one who takes charge of everything. There are alpha females, by the way. Anyway, my focus was on Adam – the way he seemed to be so easy in his own skin, the look on his face, and just a general gut feeling. He was looking for the attorney who would save his father’s life and he didn’t look like he’d settle for a namby-pamby, wimpy woman. So I acted in a rather harsh way that said I meant strictly business. I wanted his respect for both me as a woman and as an attorney. I noticed that he has the habit of leaning on just about everything – walls, tables, door jambs, in and out of chairs. So I prodded him mercilessly. I knew he would never be afraid of me but he might realize that I was stronger than I looked. I ended up by talking about my fees and basically told him – and Hoss and Joe – to ‘take it or leave it’. And that’s how I came to be your attorney. I still poke at Adam for leaning on everything to show that I still have control and am in charge of every legal aspect of your defense, but I need to lighten up on him. And I will, when the time is right.”

 

“And here I thought that I was the alpha male,” Ben half-quipped.

 

“You are when the four of you are together. But when it’s just the three of them, Adam’s the alpha. He’s your first-born and has had more time to watch you and to learn from you.”

 

“I did the best I could for all three of my boys. They make me proud.” Ben said quietly but it was hard to miss the pride in his voice. “Your parents must be very proud of you.”

 

“Sadly, both of them are dead. Papa died in a mine cave-in. Mama was never the same after that. Folks say she died of a broken heart, and I don’t doubt it. I went to live with some nearby friends who treated me just as they treated their own children – with lots of love and guidance. Interestingly enough, I was chased home one day by a bunch of mean boys. Two days later, I found myself – and my adopted siblings – enrolled in Kung fu classes. I loved the sense of empowerment that I felt and no longer feared being chased. The boys eventually became afraid of me!”

 

Dallas cocked her head a wee bit. “How strange things turn out. I had first wanted to be a teacher. I scrimped and saved and did odd jobs – I washed clothes, cleaned houses, and then became a seamstress. I could finally afford to indulge in ‘higher education’. Then I decided, being good at linguistics, that maybe I could work for somebody important and become a translator. I figured the President might need one. He didn’t, of course. Later than that, I became very interested in the economy – both domestic and foreign. I was good at grasping concepts but jobs in that field were almost nil at the time.”

 

“What made you decide on being an attorney?” Ben was quite interested in everything Dallas had to say, but now there was a pregnant silence followed by Dallas’s deep inhalation.

 

“I told you I was married. Bryce and I decided that what we wanted most was a family so we did the whole ‘white picket fence, small house, small yard’ thing. Six weeks after we were married, Bryce was accused of murder. We had very little money and found that no attorney would defend him for what we could pay, so we ended up with a Public Defender. I knew very little about the law at that time, but I knew enough to realize that Bryce was not being represented well at all. I felt totally and completely helpless – all my linguistics and economics degrees couldn’t help him. The Public Defender, on the basis of what I know now as circumstantial evidence, believed Bryce to be guilty and therefore put forth the least effort that he could. Bryce was found guilty and was hanged. The hell of it is that, less than two weeks after Bryce’s death, the real murderer was caught. With a plea deal for admitting his guilt, he received only a life sentence in the penitentiary. I went a little bit crazy then, I think. But, when my mind cleared, I got to wondering how many people are convicted of crimes that they didn’t commit because their attorneys just didn’t delve into the case deep enough, look at every possible scenario, or use the law as it was made to be used. I worked three jobs to save enough money to even apply at Harvard Law School. By some quirk of fate, I was accepted. I worked two jobs then and went to school on my off hours. I kept my eyes and ears open in class, asked what some professors called “impertinent” questions – but other professors praised me for asking those questions. Before I knew it, I had graduated with honors. Immediately, I was hired by a law firm that paid me an inordinate amount of money to do – nothing. I toted law books around, served coffee, did some court reporting, but I never got to try even one case. Besides that, I realized that the law firm hired only members of the privileged class, got paid in huge amounts, and their clients were mostly found not guilty – even when they were guilty. I quit that job and became a Public Defender. I became the best Public Defender in town. I worked hard for all my clients. I learned a lot but got paid very little. A very nice man, at a symposium which I attended, told me to move West where I could be of great use. That man was Morgan Winters, your attorney in Virginia City. What he and I hadn’t counted on was the discrimination against female attorneys. I hope to change that.”

 

Ben, not knowing what to say, said nothing. Time had run out anyway. The Bondurant ranch was just down the hill.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

Dallas halted the procession of wagons about two hundred yards from the house and jumped out of the buggy.

 

“We’ll stop here!” she commanded. “I don’t want everybody to be trampling all over a crime scene and destroying any evidence that might be important!”

 

Glad to be free of the cramped confines of the wagons once more, people jumped out and stood by their wagons, waiting for further instructions. William Coleman and Amos Bondurant, his face pale, stood by Dallas’s side – as did Rex and the Cartwrights. Coleman leaned against the buggy wheel.

 

“William, for God’s sake, stand up straight! Crime-scene investigation is of the utmost importance and you’re giving the impression to the contrary!”

 

Ben whispered to his sons. “Alpha. Ask me about it later. Adam, just for a little while, don’t be caught leaning on anything.”

 

Shocked and caught off-guard, Coleman stood up straight. Dallas shot a look at Ben who nodded his new understanding of what she was doing, but his nod was almost imperceptible. By golly, she was right – it works! She has taken control of the whole situation!

 

“Roy Coffee, the sheriff of Virginia City, will be joining us. When he arrives, I would like for Doctor Martin, Attorney Coleman, and Amos Bondurant to join me first as I conduct my investigation. Then I will come back here to get the rest of you and will take you back to the house so you can see it for yourselves. I’ll give you instructions on what and what not to do at that time. Have I made myself clear?”

 

Heads nodded in understanding. The sound of hoofbeats could be heard approaching. Roy Coffee had arrived and, after shaking hands with the Cartwright clan, he was introduced to the prosecuting attorney and nodded in Amos’s direction.

 

“Rex? Roy?” Dallas began. “Who among this group is the best tracker?”

 

Roy spoke up quickly. “That would be Hoss for sure!”

 

Dallas turned so quickly to face Hoss that the big man got startled and jumped.

 

“Hoss, will you be our official tracker?” Dallas looked into the blue eyes.

 

Hoss nodded and looked at the clear skies. “It ain’t gonna be easy. Looks like it rained sometime in the days before Marcus was found and prob’ly washed away any signs or important stuff. But I’ll do my best.”

 

Dallas put a hand on Hoss’s arm. “Thank you. Now, before any of us go anywhere, let Hoss make a circle in the dried mud around the house and into the house. Take this opportunity to share what’s left in our lunch baskets. We’ll save the food on the pack horse for our evening meal. And, William, I told you to stand up straight!”

 

William was liking Dallas less and less. He was the prosecuting attorney and felt that he should be in charge. But there was no doubt that this role had been filled by Dallas. So, he stood up straight, grabbed Amos by the arm and dragged him away to sit and eat, just the two of them. Amos, of course, wasn’t allowed to talk to any of the jury members. But, before he got outside of earshot, he deliberately said, loudly, “There oughtta be a law against female attorneys!”

 

“There isn’t!” came Dallas’s retort. “I’d be happy to cite you the Statute if you’d like!” Then she reached into the buggy and pulled out one of the leftover sandwiches which she gave to Hoss.

 

With sandwich in hand, Hoss walked off, his eyes not missing anything. Meanwhile, Adam deliberately leaned against the side of the buggy. Dallas said nothing.

 

“Aren’t you going to chastise me?” he asked.

 

“Not right now. I’ve decided to pick on Attorney Coleman instead.”

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

Hoss looked everywhere. In and around the bushes and trees, inside and outside the empty barn which held no horses because Amos had turned them out to pasture while Doc and Roy were looking at Marcus’s body. Doc had enough sense to know that Amos wouldn’t be allowed to come back home until after the inquest and the trial. The horses could eat grass and fend for themselves. Amos had been allowed only to get a handful of clean clothes and had been warned to not touch anything else. He would stay in Charlotte’s Boarding House until after the trial. But the trial venue had been changed to Carson City, so he was now staying – at the taxpayers’ expense because the Territory of Nevada had hired the attorney of their choice to be the prosecutor – in the St. Charles Hotel where the Cartwrights were staying – at their own expense. 

 

Hoss’s boots left distinct marks in the dried mud. They could easily be identified as his. But he found nothing else of importance because all signs had been washed away by the rain – no footprints, no horse tracks, no weapons. He had hoped he’d find something significant, but there just wasn’t anything to find.

 

Meanwhile, Dallas nibbled on a sandwich which she held in one hand while she made sketches of the house and trees and shrubs. She had brought along a big pad of paper and colored pencils, and her brows knit together as she concentrated. Roy talked a little bit but grew quiet at the terse responses he got. He grew quiet finally.

 

Adam looked over Dallas’s shoulder as she sketched. With his knowledge of architecture, he was impressed at how correct the dimensions of the house were and where the trees and shrubs and the flower garden were located.

 

“So you are an artist as well as an attorney.” It was a statement, not a question.

 

“I’m no artist. I draw what I think is important and I try to keep things accurate.”

 

“How do you know what’s important?”

 

“I don’t,” came the terse answer. “You’re distracting me, so please go away.”

 

“At least you said ‘please’.”

 

Adam found himself on the receiving end of a scathing, withering glare. He wandered back over to join his father and brothers, secretly grateful to be out of Dallas’s sight.

 

Hoss trudged slowly towards Dallas. Because he had found nothing, he was afraid of what Dallas might say, so he took a very deep breath.

 

“Uh, ma’am? I done looked ever’where and I cain’t find a blamed thing. I guess the rain musta washed any signs away. I’m awful sorry that I couldn’t he’p.”

 

Dallas looked up. “Hoss, did you try your best?” Her tone was business-like but gentle.

 

“Yes’m, I did.”

 

“Then I’m quite satisfied that there’s nothing outside to find. You did your best and that’s all a man can do. Thank you very much. You’ve been a big help.”

 

“Yes’m,” came Hoss’s relieved and pleasantly-surprised response. Maybe she ain’t so skeery after all.

 

With her drawing paper and pencils in her hands, Dallas spoke to Roy, Doc Martin, and Ben. “You three will come with me.” Then she looked at William Coleman and at Amos, giving a jerk of her chin that meant “come here.”

 

Dallas looked at Amos. When she spoke, it was with her “gentle” tone. “Amos, we’re going to go to the house now. And we’ll go inside. If you feel that you can’t handle it, tell me. I’ll understand. You and I can go where nobody can hear us and I can ask you some questions that only you can answer. If you are up to it, I’d like for you to come with us. At any rate, I’ll be asking you some hard questions, things that might upset you or that seem silly. It’s your decision.”

 

Amos’s face got even more pale than it already was and he trembled slightly. Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and gave his answer. “I can do it.”

 

“Good man,” Dallas replied to the barely-eighteen year old boy. “But understand, if at any time this becomes too uncomfortable for you, just say so. You can come back out here and nobody will think less of you. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” She called me a “man.” Nobody’s ever called me anything but “boy.” I don’t care if Mister Coleman doesn’t like her. I think she’s nice.

 

Dallas looked at Coleman. “Ready?”

 

With an affirmative nod, the Prosecutor indicated his assent.

 

Adam, Hoss and Joe watched as Dallas led Amos, Coleman, Roy, Doc and Ben towards the house.

 

Joe scratched his head. “I can’t figure her out. First she’s all business, then she’s nice.”

 

“She was nice to me but she’s sometimes meaner’n a snake with Adam. Why ya reckon she’s like that?”

 

Adam grinned, “I love a challenge.” He pulled his hat down a little lower and leaned against the buggy. He strained his ears to try to hear Dallas’s conversation but she and her group were just too far away and were speaking too quietly.

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

Dallas had already read Amos’s Deposition as well as Roy’s and Doc Martin’s. She had made notes from her talk with Ben in the Carson City jail. She already knew what questions she wanted to ask.

 

“Amos, I’m going to start with the hardest part first. Then things will get easier for you. Is that all right?”

 

Amos nodded.

 

“Okay. You’ve said that you spent the night in the woods. Is that correct?”

 

Another nod.

 

Dallas was quickly writing on a blank sheet of paper.

 

“You fell asleep and came back home in the morning. What time of morning was it?”

 

Amos shrugged. “I guess somewhere around nine.”

 

William Coleman glared at Dallas. “Those answers are already on record in the Deposition.”

 

“You had your chance to ask your questions. Now I’m asking my questions, even if it bothers you.” Dallas stared the prosecutor down. “Amos, where were you when you first saw your father that morning?”

 

Amos pointed. “Over there.”

 

“Don’t point. Take me there.”

 

“I think it was close to here. I don’t know for sure.”

 

Dallas took more notes and made a notation on her sketch.

 

“Where was your father?”

 

“On the steps.” Amos began to tremble.

 

Dallas’s voice became gentle and smooth. “I need for you to be exact, Amos. Was all of him on the steps?”

 

“Uh, no. His head and part of his shoulders were on the top step. The rest of him was on the porch.”

 

Dallas made more notes. “Show me.”

 

Amos was shivering even though the day was hot. Slowly, the entire group approached the steps.

 

“Which step was your father’s head on? Just point to a specific area without touching anything.”

 

Amos did as he was told. Dallas made more notes and then marked on her sketch of the house which included the three steps.

 

“How tall was your father?”

 

Coleman growled. “What has that got to do with anything?”

 

“Do shut up, William!” Dallas snapped. “The only reason you’re here is because you represent Amos as the son of the deceased and also you’re the Attorney of Record for the Territory of Nevada. If you watch and listen, even you might find out something you didn’t know!”

 

Coleman bit his lip and then turned to Amos. “Answer the question, boy.”

 

Amos happened to be very proud of his father’s stature. “He was a little over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred and twenty pounds. He was a big man!”

 

“This is a very wide porch. Where were your father’s feet?”

 

“In the middle of the porch – uh – about three feet outside the middle of the doorway.”

 

More notes and more marks on the sketch.

 

“From where you were standing, did you know that your father wasn’t alive?”

 

“No, ma’am. I ran right up to him and rolled him over on his back. I just kept squeezing his hand and shaking his arm. I hoped that he had just fallen and gotten knocked out. I thought maybe he was going to tend the garden because he had his knife with him – he used it to dig with – and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He never did when he was in the garden. He liked the feel of the sun on his bare back. Anyway, I shook one arm and then both arms and moved his head around, but he just wouldn’t wake up!” Amos’s eyes filled with tears.

 

“I’m sorry that this is so difficult for you,” Dallas said quietly, “but we’re almost done with the hardest parts. A man’s finding his father dead has to be incredibly painful. Do you want to go back to the wagons?”

 

She called me a man again! Coleman calls me boy. “I’ll stay here with you.”

 

“Your father would be very proud of you right now. I just have one more question. Your father owned a knife. You’re familiar with it because you said in your Deposition that he always carried it with him, wore it strapped to his waist – even when he went to the ‘necessary house’. Did he have it with him when you found him?”

 

“Yes, ma’am. It was in its sheath around his waist.”

 

More notes were jotted down. What had started out as a blank piece of paper was now full of what looked like chicken scratchings. These things would prove to be important.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

Amos had begun to sweat. Dallas changed tactics.

 

“This is a beautifully-landscaped area.” She spread her arms to encompass not only the places close to the house but to the shrubs and trees that surrounded the house. “I especially love the flower beds, so full of different plants and colors. Frankly, I can’t make anything grow. She must’ve had a very ‘green thumb’.”

Relaxing slightly, Amos gave a small smile. “She sure did! My ma loved to plant things, to watch them grow. Before she got sick, she was out here every day, either planting or pruning or moving different plants from place to place. Even though she’s been dead for almost three years, Pa and I try our best to keep it like she would’ve wanted it.”

Though Dallas was listening to everything that Amos said, she was also scrutinizing everything. Her sharp eyes caught some things on the steps and on the porch and, as the group walked up the steps, there was a strange mark on one of the columns. All these things were marked on her sketch to ask about later.

Turning over the page of the first sketch, Dallas turned to the group with her. “Wait here. I want to sketch this room before we go in.”

William Coleman rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re wasting time, Miz Montgomery.”

Dallas ignored him as her fingers wielded her pencil quickly across the paper.

“What room is this, Amos?” Dallas could readily see it for what it was but wanted to get Amos to talk so she could take notes.

“The living room and the dining room,” came the answer.

“Okay. Let’s walk through and look at everything. Do not touch anything or knock anything out of place! Walk slowly and carefully!”

As Amos took the lead, Dallas’s eyes swept the living room section. It was dusty and the furniture was old but nothing seemed out of place. The curtains on either side of the windows were a rather dingy and plain dimity. In the dining room, a chair was pushed back, a small plate of slightly-moldy cornbread was on the table. Next to it was a glass of now-clotted buttermilk. There were dimity curtains just like the ones in the living room. They were open. Dallas said nothing. Nobody else did either. Dallas’s pencil made marks and notes on the paper.

A long hallway was located off the living room and dining area.

“Where does this hallway go?”

Amos was beginning to get more color in his face. The sweating and shaking had stopped. “To Pa’s room and to my room. Mine is on the right side. Pa’s is on the left side.”

“Let’s look at your room first.”

Inside Amos’s room, Dallas sketched quickly. It looked like an ordinary room with collections of various things, with various pictures on the wall, with a picture of Amos’s mother on the table beside the bed. It was dusty but neat. The single bed was made showing that it hadn’t been slept in since Marcus’s body was found.

“Why don’t you get more clothes or shoes or whatever you need to take back to Carson City? You might be happy to have them.”

“Can I take the picture of Ma? I don’t have one of Pa but I sure would like that one of Ma. She was awful pretty.”

Dallas nodded. “Of course you can take the picture with you. Now, hurry! Mister Coleman is right about watching our time. We still have people who need to see the house and then we have to travel back to Carson City.”

Amos nodded and hurriedly pulled out a big bag and piled the things he needed into it. He spread out a flannel shirt and placed the framed photograph of his mother onto the shirt and then wrapped it carefully in the soft folds so it wouldn’t break. The sad and bewildered look on his face touched everyone’s hearts.

The last room belonged to Marcus. The bed was bigger but that was basically the only difference between his room and his son’s room. There was one small closet, one small bedside table, one oil lamp on the dresser, a pitcher and ewer on a small table by the window. The only things that stood out starkly in the spartan rooms belonging to father and son were the curtains framing the sides of the windows. They were light blue dimity curtains with a darker blue thread running through the fabric. These were the signs of a woman’s extra-loving touch. The covers on the bed were pulled back and rumpled, and there was a shirt on a hook on the back of the door. Everything went into the sketch.

Now the group moved back to stand in the living room.

“Amos, I have a few more questions to ask you. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“In your Deposition, you said that you heard shouting from the house while you were in the barn. Is that right?”

“Yes’m.”

“And what did you do when you heard the shouting?”

“I ran in the kitchen, through the back door.”

“And what did you see?”

“I saw my Pa and Mister Cartwright having a terrible argument! They were shouting and stomping around and waving their fists at each other. I was scared.”

“What were they saying?”

“I don’t know! They were hollering so loud and talking over each other that I couldn’t understand what either one of them was saying. I just knew that they’d end up fighting each other and that I didn’t want to be around when the fur flew. I ran back to the barn, grabbed my horse and rode off into the woods.”

“About what time did Mister Cartwright get here?”

“I don’t know. I was in the barn, mucking out the stalls and currying the horses. I looked out once and saw Mister Cartwright’s horse tied in front of the house. It might have been around three o’clock or so.” Amos began to get pale again.

Dallas put her hand on his shoulder – a comforting touch. “You’re doing fine, Amos. I’m almost through with my questions.”

Amos nodded and took a deep breath.

“Was Mister Cartwright wearing a gun?”

“No, I don’t think so. He never did when he came to the house.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was afraid he’d end up shooting my Pa. They always argued.” Amos looked at Ben and saw no reaction.

“Was your Pa wearing his knife?”

“Yes’m. He always wore his knife. He put it on when his feet hit the floor in the morning and didn’t take it off until he went to bed. Then he hung it on the bedpost next to him.”

“But your Pa had guns, didn’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am. But he mostly used his rifle. He hunted with it. He didn’t like to depend on a hand gun. He said that they were not to be trusted because they could misfire or jam just at the time when it was needed the most. He said that he could always trust his knife. He kept it sharp and clean.”

“Was the knife in his hand when he was arguing with Mister Cartwright?”

“No, ma’am. I know that for a fact because both men were waving their hands in the air. Their hands were empty.”

William Coleman sighed loudly. “You’ve asked basically the same question twice. You’ve just re-worded it to confuse the boy.”

“Hmmm. Is that so? How stupid of me,” Dallas answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Okay, Amos. For the record, was the knife in its sheath around your father’s waist at the time of the argument?”

Amos looked confused. “Well… I guess so. I was scared and didn’t really look. I don’t know for sure. But it wasn’t in his hand.”

“Your father and Mister Cartwright never got along well, did they?”

Coleman growled. “You’re asking a question and answering it all at the same time!”

Dallas sighed. “Bring it up in court if you object. I’ve got it written down. I’m asking for Amos’s personal observations and opinion. If Judge Ellerbee wants to throw it out, then let him do it!”

She paused. “Did your Pa and Mister Cartwright argue a lot?”

“Always. Ever since I can remember.”

“Do you know what the problem was between the two?”

“Something about property rights up along Red Fern Creek. Something about who owned what when the creek got full and kept changing course. I still don’t think I understand it.”

“Just one more question. When you came into the house, when you heard all the shouting, did either man look injured or bruised or cut? Was there any blood?”

“Not that I could see.”

Dallas finished her notes in that strange “chicken-scratch” manner. She had filled up two entire pages of notes and had made six pages of sketches. With so little information about the argument that Amos had seen so little of, there was nothing to base a re-enactment on. But, having dragged the jurors out here, she would let them take a tour of the house so that they would be familiar with it.

“Thank you, Amos. I don’t have any more questions for you. Would you like to go outside and just relax for a while? That is, if Mister Coleman doesn’t have any questions that he’d like to ask.”

The Prosecutor hadn’t asked a single question during this whole time. He shook his head. “Go on outside, boy.”

Amos exited through the front door and never looked back. I’m not a boy. I’m a man!

Dallas turned to Ben. “When you and Marcus were arguing that day, where in the living room were you standing?”

“We were walking all around the living room. We never stood in just one single spot. I never even saw Amos come into the kitchen. I might’ve had my back turned to him at that time.”

“What was the last thing Marcus said to you?”

“He told me to get out of his house, to get off his property and to never come back. He said he was going to sue me.”

“And what were your last words to him?”

“I told him I’d be happy to see him in court.”

“Okay, thank you. You may go outside, go back to your sons. But do not tell them anything that was said in here. If I find out that you have repeated anything, you will be finding yourself another attorney. Is that clear?”

“It is.” Ben wasn’t angry. He was tired and was eager to get away from the house.

Only Prosecutor Coleman, Sheriff Roy Coffee, and Doc Martin remained. Dallas grilled Roy and Doc unmercifully, filling up another whole page of that chicken-scratch she called “notes.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

“Okay, I’m through with my questions for now. I undoubtedly will have some later. William, can you put Roy and Doc Martin on your list to be questioned first? Virginia City needs its sheriff and doctor back, I’m sure. We can re-call them later if need be.” Dallas was pretending to be nice but was well-aware that the fact that Marcus was dead had to be established before the trial could even begin to proceed. Both men were privy to the fact that Marcus, indeed was dead, due to a cut throat. After all, it was a huge stretch of the imagination that he cut his own throat!

 

William, surprised that Dallas had actually spoken to him with a civil tongue, nodded his head. “I agree. I’ll put Sheriff Coffee on the stand first, after Opening Arguments.”

“Wonderful!” Was there sarcasm in that word or was Dallas acknowledging what William had said? It was hard to tell.

“Okay. Let’s go get the jurors and wrap this trip up.” Dallas began to walk down the steps when a flash of sunlight caught her eye.

There, in the garden, was a small piece of metal which looked like it had been part of a bigger piece and had broken off. It measure approximately three inches wide by two inches deep and had jagged but pointed ends at regular intervals. Dallas walked down the steps and reached behind some flowers to pick it up.

“What’s that?” William asked.

“I have no idea,” Dallas lied. “It looks like part of a gardening tool maybe? Do any of you have any ideas?”

There were shrugs and the shaking of heads.

“Well, I’ll keep it anyway. It might turn out to be important.” Dallas made a mark on her sketch and slipped the item into her pocket. She knew it was important and that it would involve something deeper and stranger than could be expected.

“William, I’m very tired. I don’t have the stamina to walk to the wagons and then walk back here. Would you mind telling the jurors to come on? Sheriff Coffee, Doc Martin – you can come back if you wish but it’s not necessary. Tell Mister Cartwright and Amos – that they don’t have to come back. Adam, Hoss and Joe must stay where they are. This scene doesn’t involve them.”

William Coleman had been bored almost to tears while looking at the house. He was delighted that he didn’t have to return. And he was equally happy that Dallas was too tired to talk to the jurors standing at the wagons, now becoming impatient. “I’ll give them the usual admonitions,” he said as he, Roy and Doc began to walk away.

When their backs were turned, Dallas tried to look casually at one of the porch columns – the one which she had noticed earlier that bore a strange mark. Almost palming the metal object from her pocket, she slipped it into what was really a gouge mark. It fit perfectly. Back into her pocket went the object, then more marks and notes were entered onto the sketch paper and the paper that held all that chicken-scratch-looking stuff.

The jurors and alternates arrived and stood quietly in front of Dallas. She spoke.

“I know that Prosecutor Coleman has already told you this but I’ll tell you again. There will be no talking to anyone, not even to me. No questions. No touching of anything – not even the walls. Just look at everything and try to remember what you are seeing. Make pictures in your minds. The only speaking that will be done will be by me to tell you which room is which. Do you understand?”

Heads nodded.

“First, look at the steps and the porch. Take a good look. This is where a man’s body was found. You may walk up and down the steps and everywhere on the porch. I know you’re tired but a man’s life might depend on what you see.”

Quietly, the jurors explored the steps and the porch. Then, when they were finished, they stood quietly in front of Dallas. She led them through the house, just as Amos had led her through, room by room. She was careful not to rush them but, frankly, there just wasn’t much to see. The walk-through ended quickly. Dallas closed the front door. She didn’t bother to lock it because it had remained unlocked since Marcus’s body had been found. Even if somebody, for reasons unknown, ransacked the house or if the house caught fire and burned to the ground, Dallas had her sketches. And she had witnesses to testify to the fact that she had made those sketches this very day.

There was a clink-thunk as the lantern on the porch railing accidentally got knocked over by one of the jurors. Dallas sighed as she stooped to stand it back up. She had already sketched it on paper but had failed to take a really good look at it. Now she noticed, along with the fact that no oil spilled out because the lantern was empty, that there was a stain on the handle and on the top of the lantern itself. Carefully she picked it up, keeping her hand away from the stain, and toted it with her back to the wagons. The jurors followed behind her, looking like a line of baby ducklings.

“Let’s get started back to Carson City,” Dallas instructed as she walked toward William Coleman.

While people climbed into the wagons, Dallas showed the lantern to William Coleman.

“Rust,” he said.

“Blood,” she countered.

Who would be right?

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Dallas’s mind was whirling. Looking over at Ben and his sons, she spoke. “I think we’ve all seen what needs to be seen. I know it’s late in the day and that everyone is probably hungry, but let’s get away from here and stop in a little while to eat.”

 

Rex, Adam, Hoss and Joe mounted up – Adam took his place with Rex at the head of the group. Hoss and Joe took their places beside the buggy and watched as Ben helped Dallas onto the seat of the buggy. She clutched a thick sheaf of papers tightly, careful that they didn’t blow away in the slight breeze. Again, she felt Ben’s hands close around her waist, realized again what a strong man he was because she was lifted straight up into the buggy without using her feet on the buggy wheel. She felt her skin prickle – a delightful sensation.

Ben took the reins, clucked at the horse, and the procession began heading back to Carson City. Dallas’s mind was still whirling. There’s something amiss. I can feel it! But what is it?

Ben’s hand on her arm startled her and she jumped.

“I’m sorry.” Ben’s said. “I didn’t mean to startle you but you look a little…unsettled. Can I help?”

Dallas found Ben’s deep voice as attractive as his physical appearance. She sighed. “I seem to have more questions than answers. I couldn’t have the ‘re-enactment’ that I had hoped for because Amos was privy only to the argument that you and Marcus were having. He saw no actual physical altercation before he fled. He just assumed that a fight had ensued. There was a knife found at the scene which you already know about and then there’s the slice on your hand that’s just now healing. We discussed that injury when I met with you in the jail and we’ll will have to discuss it again during the trial.” Dallas paused and searched Ben’s eyes, finding no guile there. “I wish I could tell you everything that’s going on in my mind but I can’t. It’s just not legal.”

“It’s all right,” Ben answered. “I’ll just sit here quietly and hold the reins.”

Dallas’s face brightened. “I can show you my sketches and notes though!” She smoothed out her papers so that Ben could see them easily. “It’s not like you’ve never seen the Bondurant house before today. And you can’t read what I’ve written. There’s nothing illegal about your looking at what I have.”

Ben looked first at the sketches. “You draw very well. Adam would be quite impressed with the sketch of the elevation of the house. He has a degree in architecture.” Ben sounded proud. “Adam was the only son who wanted to go to college.”

“Now I understand a little more about Adam. He’s not arrogant. He’s just very comfortable in his own skin.”

“He is that. He and I sometimes butt heads.”

“Who wins?”

“Sometimes I do and sometimes he does.”

Ben’s attention now turned to the pages of notes that Dallas showed him. “What is all that…um…writing?”

Dallas made a sound deep in her throat. Under any other circumstance, it would be described as a muted giggle. But she was trying to look serious in case anyone glanced in her direction.

“It’s known as ‘Pittman Shorthand’. It’s a quick way to write and is based on the sounds of speech. I learned about this method while I was at Harvard. I took notes in my classes like this and I can write accurately as fast as you can talk. Each of these ‘characters’ means something. Look at this word. It means ‘dining’. This area is the ‘d-i-n’ part and this area that comes down from it is the ‘i-n-g’ part. The whole word can be made with one swipe of the pencil.” (Author’s Note: Pittman Shorthand was introduced in 1933 and was used almost extensively by secretaries and court reporters all over the country).

“Fascinating!” Ben was impressed. “How do you write my name that way?”

Folding over a clean page, Dallas put pencil to paper. “Like this. It takes only two quick swoops, with the pencil leaving the paper only briefly. This is ‘b-n’. The little mark under it shows that the ‘b’ needs to be capitalized. And this is ‘c-r-t-r-i-t’. This odd squiggle denotes that the ‘i’ is a ‘long i’ as in the word ‘right’.”

“I don’t want to sound insulting,” Ben said as he tried hard not to smile, “but I own chickens that make the same kinds of signs with their feet when they walk in the sand.”

Dallas clapped her hand over her mouth and just barely managed to stifle the laugh that erupted. “Stop that!” she mumbled from behind her hand. “You’re making me laugh. If anybody hears me, they’ll think I’m having fun! That’s inappropriate under these circumstances.”

“It certainly is inappropriate!” Ben smothered his own laugh with his hand over his mouth.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Rex finally signaled that it was time to stop and to open the food that Adam had brought. He wouldn’t divulge where it came from but there was lots of it! There were no sandwiches, per se, but there was a huge ham that had been cut into slices and there was bread to tuck it into. There was fried chicken galore. There were jars of crunchy pickles. There were hard-boiled eggs. There was an overabundance of fresh fruit and slices of fresh cheese. Everything could be eaten with one’s fingers – no utensils were needed. There were two huge goat skins, one which held water and the other which held a most-welcome and appreciated wine. The drinking mugs had been provided by Rosalita before the wagons left this morning. Rosalita would count each mug when the wagons returned to make sure she got them all back. She ruled “The Royal” with an iron fist. Even the owners were slightly afraid of her.

 

Tired faces lit up at the sight of this feast. It had been a long day of riding in bumpy, jolting wagons and of getting into them, getting out of them, getting into them again and getting out of them again. And there was disappointment at the absence of a re-enactment. Hop Sing, in his wisdom, had known that everybody would be tired or cross and cranky. The wine certainly would be useful in soothing flaring tempers. It worked.

Dallas watched as the people settled into the same groups as they had shared at lunch. There were smiles and even some laughter.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to laugh,” Joe observed.

“We’re not,” Dallas replied as she snatched up a drumstick with one hand and a slice of ham with the other. “It wouldn’t be right for us to appear to be having fun. The jurors are bonding with each other and that will work to our advantage. They’re more likely to vote, one way or the other, as one unit rather than to butt heads because they haven’t gotten to know each other.”

“This was a good idea then,” Adam said as he perused a big, fat apple.

“I don’t get credit for the idea. It just happened serendipity.”

Hoss swallowed the last of his chicken and was eyeing the ham. “What’s ser…serendi…?”

“’Serendipity’. It means ‘by chance’,” Dallas prompted. Then she turned to look at Ben. “Hop Sing is an absolutely wonderful cook! I can’t figure out how he managed to get all this prepared in such a short time with absolutely no notice.”

“He’s used to preparing meals in large quantities. He has Hoss to feed. The rest of us get the leftovers, if there are any,” Joe quipped with a giggle.

Hoss reached a hand out to cuff his young brother’s head but Adam’s hand stopped him. “Joe’s just teasing you, Hoss. Remember what Dallas said about looking serious!”

Hoss shot Joe a dirty look and continued to eat.

“Ben, you’ve been teasing me about the notes I’ve taken – about how they look like chicken-scratch,” Dallas said as she sipped her wine. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll bet that there isn’t a single chicken left on the Ponderosa right now. Not a live one anyway.”

“I certainly won’t bet against you,” Ben responded, sucking in his cheeks to hide his own smile.

Adam swapped the toothpick in his teeth from one side to the other. “I thought you weren’t allowed to look at Dallas’s notes – but you did. And you have yet to explain what Dallas meant by ‘alpha’. You said that you would.”

“Dallas showed my her notes because I can’t read them. They’re written in something called ‘Pittman Shorthand’. They’re reminiscent of the tracks that chickens make in the sand, but there’s a very important aspect to each mark.”

Ben leaned over and wrote his name in the sand. “This is what my name looks like using that kind of shorthand.”

“I heard about it when I was back East. I never investigated it. But you still haven’t explained ‘alpha’. I know what the definition is but not in the terse context that you used it.”

“I’ll explain later,” Ben responded. “Right now, let’s just concentrate on eating. We can talk later.”

The rest of the meal was eaten in companionable silence. All too soon it was time to load up the wagons for the last leg of the day’s journey. This time it was Adam who lifted Dallas into the buggy. He’s as strong as his father. And quite handsome. And yet he’s not married. Neither are Hoss and Joe. I find it odd that two grown men and one almost-grown man still live at home. Well, that’s none of my business. I must keep my mind on the trial!

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

The sky was a mixture of gold and blue as the sun began to set over the wagons headed toward Carson City. Dallas looked up and her face seemed relaxed – not nearly as taut and strained as it had been all day.

 

“The sunsets and sunrises are quite beautiful,” Ben commented as he scrutinized Dallas’s face.

“Morgan Winters was right when he talked about the West. The beauty, the grandeur, and just the vastness…” Dallas stopped talking. “Back East, with its factories that belch smoke all day, you just can’t see much. It’s crowded and fast-paced. Out here, things move more slowly. It’s wonderful to be able to breathe fresh air! Other than having to struggle to get clients, I’m not sorry I took Morgan’s advice to just pick up and move out here.”

Dallas paused. “I know so much about you but barely little about your sons. I’d love for you to tell me about them. Not in an attorney-client way but simply as a father who has raised three fine young men.”

“Ahhh, my sons. I could talk about them for days. But I’ll give you the short version. Is that okay with you?”

Dallas turned slightly to face Ben. “That’s definitely okay with me.”

“Adam. The eldest. If the truth be known, he’s actually a dreamer. I think that he gets that from me, or I’d like to believe that. He seems thick-skinned on the outside but appearances can be deceiving. He feels things very deeply but doesn’t let too much show outwardly. He’s quite intelligent. He reads anything he can get his hands on – that habit started long before he went to college. He’s quite an architect and loves plotting things out on paper and then building them from those plans. There are several buildings in Virginia City that were built according to the plans that Adam drew up. He has an appreciation of fine art and of the theater and of the symphony. He plays the guitar and sings – he has a fine voice and even took singing lessons once. He has a temper, too. I already told you that he and I have butted heads on occasion. If he feels he’s right, he sticks to what he believes in and won’t be moved. When I said that he was a dreamer, I meant that he is always forward-thinking, hoping to see a better world where all people of every race and creed can be at peace with each other. None of my sons are prejudiced, Adam being the least so. And he loves the freedom of the outdoors. Nothing makes him happier than to take a good book and ride off somewhere peaceful where he can’t be disturbed. Like Hoss and Joe, he’s very protective of our family and of the Ponderosa in general. He’s the least outwardly-affectionate but the love is there.”

Ben looked at Dallas. He had her complete attention. “More?” he asked. She nodded.

“Hoss. The middle son. He has more of his mother in him than he has of me, I think. He’s a big man with a big heart. He’s very sensitive and shy around women. He had a hard life when he was growing up because he was so much bigger than anyone else. He got teased by both boys and girls. He can joke about his size and strength now but never got over his shyness with females. The fact that he is shy seems to draw women to him. He loves nature – whether it’s flowers or trees or creatures of the forest. He has a natural affinity toward animals – wild or tame. Sometimes I think he speaks their language. He can – and has – picked up an injured wild skunk and brought it home. The fool thing sprayed everybody but Hoss. But he nursed it back to health and then set it free. He doesn’t believe in cages. He’s also an excellent tracker. If there are any telltale signs, he can find and follow them. Like Adam, Hoss has a temper but he has to be pushed into a corner before he explodes. He doesn’t fight much, one reason being that there are few men in town his size. The other reason is that, in anger, he could hit someone and cause serious injury. Hoss reads very few books. His ‘books’ are real-life nature. Ask him a question about any animal around these parts, and he can tell you what you want to know. He doesn’t believe in trapping animals. He’d rather hunt a predator and shoot it with a rifle so it dies quickly instead of suffering. We tease him about the amount of food he eats and he basically knows that we’re teasing. He pretends to be insulted. He has a wonderful sense of humor that has served him well.”

“Don’t stop! I’m fascinated!” Dallas prodded when Ben paused to collect his thoughts.

“Joe. The youngest. ‘Little Joe’ we call him. He doesn’t like it but accepts it. It has nothing to do with his stature but with the fact that he is the youngest. That young man would try the patience of a saint sometimes. He’s a kind of mixture of Adam and Hoss in that he enjoys books, if he can slow down enough to actually read one, and he loves animals – especially horses. Fast horses. He can be charming, especially with women, and there are many ladies in town who positively adore him. And he knows it. But he has the hottest and the quickest temper in the family and, as you can imagine, this often causes trouble. But, like all my sons, he’s as honest as the day is long.”

“Like you,” Dallas said quietly. She touched Ben’s arm, let her hand linger there for a second too long, and then looked straight ahead.

“Drat. We’re back in town already. I didn’t get a chance to know more about Little Joe!” This was said by Dallas with an unhappy sigh.

Not waiting for Ben to help her down from the buggy, she grabbed her notes, the almost-empty basket of food and jumped down from her seat. People were piling out of the wagons once more, their broad smiles showing their happiness at arriving home. Dallas approached the group which was impatiently waiting to be dismissed.

“Thank you all for participating in this day. I know that it wasn’t something that you wanted to do, but you did it anyway. On Thursday morning, bright and early, I expect to see all of you at the Courthouse. It would be a good idea to bring a pad of paper and some sharp pencils in case you want to take notes. Again, you have my thanks.” Pause. “Mister Coleman, do you have anything you’d like to say?”

“Uh, yes. Thank you.” He hadn’t planned to say anything because nothing had been accomplished except to cart people from one place to another. There was no re-enactment, there was nothing to see, and there wasn’t anything for the jurors to do.

Dallas looked into the faces of the people whom she would be seeing for many days. “Go on home now. I’m sure your families are waiting for you.”

To Joe, she said, “Will you be in charge of returning the buggy, the wagons, and the horses? Tell whoever is at the livery stable to send me the bill. Ben, go on to the jail…”

“But I thought I was free on bond!” Ben interrupted.

“You are. Before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to say that you should go on to the jail with Rex and get your belongings. Then go get settled in at the St. Charles with your sons. You can exchange your rooms for a suite, but don’t be surprised if you find a guard posted outside the door to make sure that you don’t try to escape. Rex is nodding so I know that’s what you can expect. I will admonish you once again. When you are in public, be gentlemen. Look serious. Don’t get into fights with anyone for any reason – even if someone is uncouth enough to insult your father. Anything you do or say that is rude or inappropriate will prejudice the folks in town. Bad gossip is just that: Bad. And I won’t stand for it!”

Ben looked into Dallas’s brown eyes. “Alpha.”

“Alpha female. Double trouble.” Dallas didn’t smile. She was in command now and had made herself perfectly understood.

“Adam and Hoss, please return all these baskets to Rosalita. Be sure and tell her how much we appreciated and enjoyed the food. Adam, stop leaning on Hoss! When I need to talk to any of you, I’ll let you know.”

With that, Dallas strode purposefully to her office. She had the rest of the night and the next day to transcribe her notes and to get her Opening Statement written out. So little time when a man’s life was at stake.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The first bump that the Cartwrights ran into was when they asked to change rooms at the hotel. The desk clerk told them that they’d have to find another hotel for “their” kind. The innuendo was that a murder suspect and his family weren’t welcome at the St. Charles Hotel.

 

“We have a reputation to uphold,” he sniffed disdainfully. “We cater to a prestigious clientele, you know.”

Joe’s temper flared and he tried to reach across the counter, intent on grabbing the clerk and inflicting bodily harm. Ben grabbed Joe’s arm in mid-air and, using his no-nonsense voice, said only, “Joseph!”

And that’s the moment when Dallas walked in. “Is there a problem here?” She could see that, in fact, there was a problem.

“We have to get rooms at another hotel,” Adam said, his anger barely-controlled.

“Is that so?” Dallas looked at the clerk for a long time. “And why is that?”

Joe had managed to put his arm back down at his side but his body was rigid with anger.

The clerk sniffed disdainfully again. “We don’t rent rooms to murderers.”

“Well, I’m delighted to know, before the trial even starts, that you have elected yourself as judge and jury.” She paused. “Wilby, you’re an ass! Now see to it that these men have that big suite on the second floor. It’s not occupied because your price is so outrageous that nobody will stay there. Am I making myself clear?”

Dallas hadn’t raised her voice but her brown eyes were shooting sparks right into Wilby’s eyes. His eyes grew wide and he backed up. “But who’s going to pay for the room?” he whined.

“I am, of course,” Dallas answered before Ben could open his mouth. “As a matter of fact, that’s one of the reasons that I’m here.” On the top of the desk, Dallas plunked down a wad of money.

Wilby’s greed got the best of him. “This won’t last for too long, you know. That suite can sleep six people very easily which is why it’s so expensive.”

“It can sleep more than that,” Dallas said, her voice well-controlled. “Just last week, when the stage arrived, the Whitaker brothers checked in here. All eight of them. I understand that they were quite comfortable in that very room.” Dallas was bluffing. She hadn’t even seen the Whitaker brothers but had heard that they had stayed in the suite for five days before heading out to wherever it was that they were going.

Putting the money in the cash drawer, Wilby sighed. When this money runs out, do I send an updated bill to you?”

“You certainly must do that very thing. By the way, I can read. The sign over the keys gives the exact rate per day for each room and as well as the rate for the suite. I will personally keep a count of each day these gentlemen are staying here. I suggest that you don’t try to swindle me or I’ll drag you into court by your ear and have you paying me! Do we understand each other?”

Wilby looked sullen. “That boy tried to kill me.”

“I saw what happened. You were insulting and he was angry. We’ve all had a very long day. We’re tired and we’re cranky. You both owe each other an apology.”

Ben nudged Joe. “I’m sorry that I grabbed you,” said the youngest Cartwright – who wasn’t sorry at all.

“If I appeared to be insulting, then I apologize,” muttered Wilby – who wasn’t sorry either.

“As long as the Cartwrights are here, you will treat each other in a polite manner. And that means all of you. No sniping. No innuendos. No veiled or unveiled threats. Is that clear?”

Five men nodded their heads in unison.

“May I have the key, please?” Ben asked quietly. “We’d like to get our things and change rooms. And we’ll all be needing a bath.”

“Baths cost extra,” Wilby said sullenly.

“No, they do not!” Dallas was beginning to let her anger show. “Baths are gratis for anyone who stays in that suite.”

“But…” Wilby began.

“Wilby, you are trying my patience, you greedy little weasel. And right now, I’m very short on patience. Do not make me come across this desk and rearrange your face! These gentlemen will have their baths whenever they want them!”

Wilby was outclassed and knew it. All he could do was to sigh and nod his head. He handed Ben the key.

“Oh, Wilby. I forgot to tell you that Rex is posting a guard outside of the Cartwrights’ door every night. And I will be coming in every morning to speak with them, starting tomorrow morning. Rosalita will be bringing breakfast for all of us. Will that be a problem?”

“No’m,” came the squeaky answer. “Uh, these guests will find their belongings by the doors to their rooms. I need those rooms for when the stage comes in later tonight.”

“If one single thing is missing from any of the belongings, I’ll have your head on a platter! You’d better start praying now that nothing has been touched!” Dallas paused and then looked at Ben. “Let’s get you settled. Then we’ll discuss what’s next.”

Ben nodded and shoved a still-angry Joe in front of him. Up the stairs went the group to retrieve their belongings and to move to the suite. It was enormous and beautifully-appointed. In the two bedrooms were two large beds and in the spacious living room was an oversized futon.

“Did eight men really sleep in here?” Hoss asked as he surveyed his surroundings.

“I have no idea,” Dallas confessed. “Gossip says they did.”

Adam grinned. “I’d sure hate to play poker with you, lady. You bluff quite well.”

“Go check your belongings. I’d like nothing better than for one of you to find something missing. Wilby is so fun to pick on.” Dallas’s sly smile lit up her face.

The belongings were checked, including Ben’s things that had been brought over from the jail. Nothing was missing.

Suddenly Dallas whirled, stuck out her foot, and knocked Joe off his feet. “How did I tell you all to comport yourselves?”

Slowly, Joe stood up and rubbed his backside. “To act like gentlemen. To not fight, even if somebody insulted Pa.”

“And what was one of the very first things you did?” It was hard to tell if Dallas was about to get angry or if she was making a point.

“I tried to grab the clerk’s shirt and pull him over the desk,” Joe answered and looked down at his feet.

“By tomorrow, Wilby will be telling everybody that you held a gun to his head and that I stopped you from shooting him. Let me impress on all of you: We do not need that kind of attention. I thought you all understood me when I said it the first time. Apparently, I was wrong. Don’t let something like this happen again or you’ll be looking for a new attorney!”

Dallas exhaled loudly, shook her arms and forced herself to relax. “Let’s have that talk. I forgot to mention a few things. As it turns out, I’m glad I came back.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

“I did you all a disservice,” Dallas began. “I got cocky and full of myself because I felt like I was losing control. I can’t afford to lose control right now. I’ve never tried a case like this before and I don’t feel like I’m standing on solid ground.”

 

“What does that mean?” Adam had his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ve never tried a murder case where I feel in my gut that the alleged murderer is innocent. I’ve never tried a case where there hasn’t been at least one eyewitness. There are bits and pieces of things that I’ve become privy to but which I can’t discuss with any of you right now. William Coleman is going to say that the murder weapon was Marcus’s own knife. I have reason to believe otherwise but I don’t know how to prove it. I have a sense that something more is attached to this whole thing but I’m not sure exactly what it is or how to find out about it. The Prosecutor has to prove that Ben murdered Marcus. I don’t think he can. But once he plants the seed in the minds of the jurors, it may sprout and grow and blossom.”

Adam spoke again. “ I’ve been thinking, trying to put two and two together, and I can’t come up with the right answer. Forgive me, but it has to do with your age. You should be much older than you appear.”

Dallas actually laughed and broke the tension. “I think that was a compliment to my ‘youthful’ appearance. Actually, Adam, I’m just a few years short of being old enough to be your mother. But I started at Harvard at a young age. Very young. For reasons unknown, I have always had an aptitude for learning. I’m rather like a sponge – I soak up things that I see or read or hear very quickly and can pull things from my memory like opening a specific file in a cabinet. For that reason, I leap-frogged through school, skipping many grades altogether. I was known as ‘the child’ at Harvard because I was the youngest student there. I worked extra hard at my studies because, if I was going to be called a ‘child’, I wanted to be known as the ‘smartest child’. Very slowly, I gained respect – first from the students and then from the professors. My nickname became ‘Smarty’ but it wasn’t meant in a derogatory way. It was a compliment. When I received my diploma from Harvard, I got a standing ovation. When I went to work for that ‘prestigious’ law firm, I truly believed that I had found my niche. But all I seemed to be good for was to fetch coffee, take dictation, and tote law books around. I felt empty. So I quit that job and became a Public Defender. That was something I could sink my teeth into but almost bankrupted me because it was such a low-paying job. Yes, there was satisfaction when I won my cases but I wanted to deal with more than petty thefts, juvenile delinquents, assault-and-battery cases and an occasional murder case that had all the facts lined up nice and neat.”

Dallas paused for a second. “I used to pray that I would get a case that I could really sink my teeth into. Something that would challenge me. Something where I would have to rely on everything I learned and saw and put those things into a real defense. Well, I got what I prayed for and now I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Are you saying that we should get another attorney?” Joe asked.

“It may be too late now. In the morning, when the trial starts and before the prosecution’s Opening Statement, you could say that you wish to seek another attorney. You could say that I’m not working hard to serve your best interests. I don’t know if Judge Ellerbee will go for that – but he might. Then you could send a wire to somewhere like San Francisco and hire the best and most expensive attorney possible. It’s up to you. I won’t be angry if that’s the route you take. Your life, Ben, is on the line. It has to be your decision.”

Ben stood up and walked over to the window and looked outside for several minutes. Then he turned to face Dallas. “I have no need for a high-priced, famous attorney. I believe I have the best one right here in this room. I’m not going to change my mind. We either win or we lose. It is what it is. I trust you to do your best.”

Hoss, who had been very quiet, now spoke. “Earlier today, when I wuz tryin’ to find tracks or signs or anything out of the ord’nary, I didn’t find nuthin’. You asked me if I’d done my best. Then you said to me that’s all you expected of me – to do my best. I reckon that’s all we’re askin’ from you.”

“And that’s what you’ll get – my very best.” Dallas nodded and smiled slightly. “Okay. I rescind my own admonition about sending you a note when I want to see you. That was stupid on my part. Any time you want to see me, come to my office. If I’m not there, I’ll leave a note on the door saying where I can be found. You know that I live there, so coming to see me holds for after hours, no matter what time. I’m charging you an exorbitant fee, so you might as well get your money’s worth! One or all of you might have an idea that hadn’t occurred to me and you’d be doing me a disservice by not telling me or discussing it with me. Do you promise to do that?”

Heads nodded.

“Next, I want to subpoena some people you know. I want the names of at least three good friends and the names of three people whom you know don’t like you. Don’t ask me why. Just know that I have my reasons. Write those names down right now. The subpoenas can be delivered over the weekend when court is not in session and those people can be here first thing Monday morning. They’ll get a small fee for their testimony whether they like you or not. William Coleman follows no rules when he prosecutes a case. Usually the defendant is the last person on the stand. For all I know, William might start with Ben and end with Roy Coffee. He gets away with it because he’s on good terms with Judge Ellerbee. I, of course, am not.”

There were murmurings and heads shaking or nodding as Ben made his list. Dallas looked at the names and tucked the sheet of paper into her purse.

“I want you all to know that I will be hard on Ben when I question him on the stand. I have to take a hard stance, try to cover everything that might be open to questions on cross-examination. If I give William no ammunition, he can’t shoot. If he manages to find a door that I have failed to open then it’s harder on me to figure out why he asked that question. Please don’t take my questions personally. Just know that I always have a reason for what I ask. It is normal for an attorney to ‘prepare’ the client by giving him the questions beforehand and going over the testimony which that person will give. I won’t do that. I want truthful answers, not rehearsed truthful answers. And I jump around quite a bit from one subject to the other so nobody can be prepared for the next question. Keeping folks off-balance messes with their minds and they get scared. Sometimes the fear prompts them to say something when they should’ve kept their fool mouths shut. I also ask the same question but in a different way to see if the two answers match. When people lie, they can’t remember what they said the first time and get caught in their own web. I use that against them in Closing Arguments.”

As Dallas paused, she realized how silent the room was. She had no doubt that every word she uttered had made an impression on all the Cartwrights.

“Finally, I want you to go out tonight, before the Mercantile closes, and buy more clothes.”

“But we already have clothes. Adam got Hop Sing to pack our suits!” Joe was confused.

“Absolutely no suits! What you would wear on a normal day at the Ponderosa is what you need to dress in.”

“Huh?” This from Hoss. “How come? Don’t we wanna look our best?”

“Yes, you do. But you are a wealthy family. You don’t want to dress like you think you’re better than anybody else. Did you take a good look at the members of the jury? I made sure that they’re men who work for a living – men who own stores or small ranches or the livery stable or the General Store. They know and appreciate the meaning of hard work to get where they are. They value every dollar they make. To see a wealthy man – and his sons – come into the Courthouse dressed in fine clothing may very well prejudice those very jurors. If you feel like you just have to do something, polish your boots but don’t get new ones. Boots that are nicked and scraped and dusty show that you yourselves work hard. Wash your faces, brush your teeth, comb your hair, and shave. Adam, you may have to shave twice a day. I swear that your whiskers have grown two full inches just since I’ve been in this room!”

This comment brought forth bursts of laughter from everyone. Mostly because it was true!

Dallas continued. “There will be three chairs on the front row behind where Ben and I sit. Those seats belong to Adam, Hoss and Joe and will be designated as such. Nobody else is allowed to sit in those chairs. If you find someone is occupying your seat, tell them who you are and that Judge Ellerbee has instructed you to sit there. Be nice and polite. Smile. If that person refuses to move, get my attention. I’ll have them moved. And, Adam, for God’s sake, don’t tilt your chair back on its hind legs. It makes you look uninterested in what’s going on. If you have to do something, gnaw on a toothpick.”

Dallas had to stop while Joe cuffed his older brother’s head.

“I won’t be able to have lunch with you because I’ll be going over my notes during the recess which is usually an hour. But, if you’d like, we can have our evening meal together or we can meet in my office after then. If I keep coming to your room, it doesn’t look good for me or you. Do not feel bound to invite me to dine with you. All I have to do is to send Rosalita a note and my meal will be delivered to me. If you eat at the Royal Diner, she’ll recognize you and will feed you well. Ignore the stares of patrons there. They’re naturally curious and some will have a rude remark or two. Joe, keep control of your temper. Don’t sass anybody or grab at anybody for any reason. I’ve told you that once and the first thing you did was to scare Wilby half to death. Hopefully he won’t go to the newspaper and say anything. The reports or gossip that I hear about the four of you better be good.”

Dallas stood up and headed for the door. When she opened it, she saw that Rex had already posted a guard whose name was Hank.

“Hello, Hank. I’d like for you to meet the man your guarding. This is Ben Cartwright. And these are his sons Adam, Hoss and Joe.” The men all shook hands.

“Hank, who’s gonna take your place later on tonight?”

“I think Dave will be here. If he ain’t here, then it’ll be Jason.”

“Let them know that Rosalita will be bringing breakfast here every morning and that I’ll be here too. And these guys all will want to take baths every night. The only one you need to guard is Ben. He promises to be on his best behavior and not strangle you with a towel or clonk you on the head with a bar of soap so that he can escape.”

Hank laughed. He knew Dallas fairly well and appreciated her sense of humor. He had a sense of humor of his own. “I’ll take his clothes before he gets in the bathtub. Don’t know of no man who wants to take a chance on gettin’ shot while he’s nekkid.”

Dallas giggled and waved and then disappeared down the stairs. Ben closed the door softly and then went to look out the window to watch as Dallas exited the hotel. Just by chance, her office was close enough to see. She entered her office, looked back and waved. She had seen Ben standing in the window and felt a warm glow engulf her. She liked that feeling.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Just as she had promised, Dallas arrived at the Cartwrights’ suite long before the trial was set to begin. Under her arm, she carried a huge poster board which was carefully wrapped and concealed in canvas. Jason, who had taken his shift at guard duty, smiled when he saw Dallas.

 

“Is everything okay?” Dallas asked.

“Just fine,” came Jason’s answer. “Hank went with the four of them to the Mercantile. He said they bought clothes. Then Dave came later on. And then I came to give Dave a break. Everything’s been quiet. I reck’n they all went to bed early. I checked on all of ’em at four. They were all asleep.”

“Thank you, Jason. But I’m not going to tell them that you actually checked on them. That can be our secret.”

Jason nodded as Dallas rapped on the door to the suite.

“Good morning!” she chirped when Hoss opened the door. “Uh-oh. Where are Ben and Adam?”

Joe snickered. “They’re both shaving in the room with the tub. I think you made a big impression on Adam with that comment on how fast his whiskers grow. Pa is paranoid that his whiskers may show too. So far, they’ve both shaved twice since we got up this morning.!”

Hoss grinned. “Joe and me is lucky. Our whiskers don’t grow near as quick.”

Joe shot Hoss a look and giggled. “Most of Hoss’s hair is on his body, not on his face. Or on his head either.”

“Joe, don’t you go funnin’ at me. I’ll snap you like a twig! ‘Sides, I ain’t for sure that you got whiskers to begin with!” Hoss knew he was being teased but he was also aware that he didn’t have a headful of hair like his younger brother. He was rather sensitive about that fact and began chasing Joe around the room.

Dallas allowed them to play like this. She knew that they were on edge and needed to blow off steam before the trial started. Then they would have to be serious.

A knock at the door and the clattering of dishes on a platter heralded Rosalita’s arrival with breakfast. When Dallas opened the door, Jason was sitting in the chair and was tucking his napkin into the top of his shirt while he carefully balanced his plate on the tops of his legs.

“Thanks for the breakfast, Dallas. Ain’t nobody kin cook like Rosalita!”

“It’s the least I can do in return for your having to sit guard-duty. Do you want to check the food that Rosalita is carrying? There might be a gun or a really sharp knife hidden in the scrambled eggs.”

Jason laughed. “Ain’t no reason to. I trust you and Rosalita both.”

While Rosalita took the platter into the suite, Dallas heard footsteps coming down the hall. There were Ben and Adam approaching her. Ben had buttoned his shirt already but Adam had buttoned only the bottom buttons of his own shirt. Dallas couldn’t help it. Her eyes immediately took in Adam’s hairy, barrel chest. She felt her face flush.

“You two look just fine. I see that you still have skin on your faces. No nicks, no cuts. It must’ve been a major feat!”

“And a ‘good morning’ to you,” Ben smiled as he appraised Dallas’s appearance. “That dress becomes you. You’re dressed more formal that we are.”

“That’s as it should be, seeing as how I need to look appropriate for the occasion. William will be wearing a suit, a vest and a tie. I need to look equally business-like.”

And, indeed she did. Her hair was, once again, pulled back and secured at the nape of her neck. She had put a bit of rouge on her cheeks and her lips to add color. Her gold earrings weren’t expensive but gave her an air of formality. These were all things that Ben noticed. He didn’t want to be but he was drawn physically toward this woman.

“Breakfast is here. Rosalita won’t leave until you all have eaten every last bite. Court recess won’t be until around noon. Ben will be sequestered in a room by himself and will be served a meal by Rosalita. And the bailiff will be guarding the door. Now let’s eat. If you have any questions, ask me now. You won’t have time later. Ben, you’ll have your own pad of paper and pencil to write down any notes and show them to me at the Defense table. Now let’s eat.”

And eat they did. Rosalita watched them like a hawk until every bit of food had been devoured.

Adam looked at Dallas and winked. “She’s the ‘alpha’ now?”

Dallas looked at Ben. “I see that you’ve explained that term to your sons. That’s good. And yes, Rosalita is the ‘alpha’ when it comes to her cooking. If you see her put her hands on her hips and glare at you, then you know you’ve gotten on her wrong side. She has a worse temper than I do!”

Joe grinned. “I’ve seen – and felt – your temper. My backside is still sore this morning.”

“Good. Then every time it aches, it’ll remind you to be careful of what you say and do.” Dallas was quite serious.

Rosalita, having been thanked, gathered up the dishes and glasses and utensils and went out the door.

“After we brush our teeth, we can go on to the Courthouse. And don’t tell me that you’ve already brushed your teeth this morning. Do it again!” Dallas took over the “alpha” role once again. “And stop making those faces. I have to brush my teeth, too.”

Like pigs at a trough, five people stood shoulder to shoulder at the basin and ewer. They used the same glass to swish their mouths clean.

Dallas caught Hoss staring at the bubbly water in the ewer. “Don’t worry, Hoss. The water will be changed when you return here. There’ll be fresh towels, too. If you want clean sheets today, leave a note for the housekeeper. If she sees no note, she’ll straighten up the bed clothes and await further instructions. It’s time to go on to Court. Don’t stride in like you own the place, but don’t slump over like you’re afraid. Be as natural and relaxed as you can be. And don’t forget where I told you that your seats are located. Oh, one more thing. Remember that you will be stared at as we go down the street. Keep your eyes directly ahead of you and ignore the stares. Now let’s go.”

Ben closed and locked the door and put the key in his breast pocket. As one solid group, they went downstairs and out the front door on the boardwalk. Dallas had been right – people were openly staring at them and were whispering about them. They were actually glad to get off the streets and away from the crowds of people. However, their hopes were dashed when they entered the Courtroom and found it packed to capacity. As Dallas led Ben to his seat at the Defense table, Ben’s sons took their designated seats. There was much muttering taking place in the gallery.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Dallas and Ben took their seats at the Defense table. Dallas put her huge poster board behind her, out of harm’s way. It had taken her quite a while to re-sketch the pictures she had made the day before and she didn’t want to have to do it again. She looked to her left and watched as William Coleman – clad in the suit, vest and tie that she had said he’d be wearing – seated himself. Amos Bondurant was also wearing a suit. Dallas rose and handed William a sheaf of papers. Then she sat down in her own chair.

 

“What was that?” Ben asked.

“We have to share our notes and the names of all the people we plan to call to the stand. That way, neither attorney is caught by surprise and has no questions to ask. Coleman has given me absolutely nothing yet except for the names of people he plans to question. But I believe that we have more information than he does. Knowing him, he’ll scan my transcribed notes from yesterday but won’t find anything of particular interest to him. I’ll bide my time. If he ambushes me with somebody, I’ll be indignant and tell Judge Ellerbee that I had no knowledge of such a person. William will be scolded severely and will be totally embarrassed. Now wouldn’t that be a shame?” Dallas snorted softly.

“You’re sneaky,” Ben whispered.”

“I know. Fun, isn’t it?” Dallas’s face was as inscrutable as the Sphinx, but her eyes were dancing with glee.

At exactly nine o’clock, the bailiff entered the room. “This Court is now in session. Judge Wayne Ellerbee presiding. All rise!”

Everybody stood up while the Judge strode to his seat behind his huge desk. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed – his hair was tousled and his black robe was wrinkled. He arranged some papers on his desk, moved the gavel a few inches and then looked at the bailiff.

“Be seated,” intoned the bailiff.

Everybody sat down. There was a rustling of clothing, a squeaking of chairs, and some talking.

“Quiet in the Court! Quiet!” commanded the bailiff.

Judge Ellerbee spoke. “Is the Court Reporter here?”

“I am, Your Honor,” said a young man with bright red hair. He showed his respect by standing.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the Judge said as he peered at the young man. “Where’s Hatcher?”

“He’s in San Francisco, Sir. My name is Herman Stovall. I’m taking Hatcher’s place.”

Judge Ellerbee hated change. Hatcher had been his Court Reporter for the last eight years.

“How old are you, Herman?”

“I’m twenty-three, Sir.”

“Are you any good at what you do? You’re mighty young to be writing down everything in this particular trial. A man’s life is at stake here. If you can’t keep up, I’ll have to declare a mistrial.”

“Your Honor, I can write as fast as you can talk. I’m very good at what I do.”

Dallas, without turning to Ben, whispered to him, “I like Herman. He sounds a lot like me. He wants a chance to prove himself. And now is the time to do it.”

Judge Ellerbee thought for a moment. “Well, you’ll have to do. For now, anyway. Sit down.”

“Yes, Sir.” Herman sat at his small desk. He had several sharpened pencils, a pencil sharpener, and a stack of blank white paper very close to his hands.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”

“Then begin right now. This is the case of the Territory of Nevada and Amos Bondurant versus Benjamin Cartwright. Please bring in the jury.”

The bailiff opened a door and the jurors, plus the two alternates, were led in and were seated in their chairs.

“Let the Record show that there are twelve jurors and two alternate jurors. This is a murder trial. If one juror should become unable to sit for the entire length of this trial, an alternate will take his place. But, if a juror is either half-dead or completely-dead, there will be no excuse for not doing the duty for which he was selected.” Judge Ellerbee spoke very fast and then looked at Herman. “Read that back.”

Herman looked confidently at his sheet of paper. “Let the Record show that there are twelve jurors and two alternate jurors. This is a murder trial. If one juror should become unable to sit for the entire length of this trial, an alternate will take his place. But, if a juror is either half-dead or completely-dead, there will be no excuse for not doing the duty for which he was selected.” Herman hadn’t missed a single word.

The Judge then faced the courtroom. “Are the attorneys for each side present?”

“I am here, Your Honor.”

“I’m here also, Your Honor.”

“Well, state your names then!” Judge Ellerbee was impatient.

“My name is William Coleman, attorney for the Prosecution.”

“My name is Dallas Montgomery, attorney for the Defense.”

“Judge Ellerbee? Would you like for me to put a date on this Record? Judges usually ask that at the beginning when they announce which case they’re hearing.”

Judge Ellerbee’s face went florid. “Are you being impertinent? Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“No, Sir! I just want to do everything to your satisfaction.”

“Well, write this at the top of your sheet: “This is the case of the Territory of Nevada and Amos Bondurant versus Benjamin Cartwright. There has been a Change of Venue from Virginia City, Nevada, here to Carson City, Nevada. Be sure to write today’s date and time!” The Judge rolled his eyes.

Herman’s pencil flew across his paper.

“Is that satisfactory?” Ellerbee asked sarcastically.

“Much better than that, Sir. You included the time of day. Some Judges forget to do that.”

Ellerbee truly didn’t want to like Herman. But he had just received what he knew to be a compliment. He began to like Herman whom he began to regard now as a well-reared young man, respectful and honest.

“Mister Coleman, are you ready with your Opening Statement? Try to slow your normal speech down some so that I can understand you. Listening to your stuttering and tripping over your own words gives me a headache.” The headache usually came from what Ellerbee had drunk the night before. But, deep in his heart, he wanted to make sure that Herman really could keep up. This kind of “niceness” was Ellerbee’s only saving grace. It went against his nature to be thoughtful of others.

“I’m ready, Your Honor.” William, with a fat pad of paper, took the floor. He stood in front of the jury box. “Good morning. I hope all of you are well-rested and are ready for today’s session.” He paused and watched as heads nodded. “This is a case of murder, pure and simple. I will prove that the Defendant, Ben Cartwright of Virginia City, Nevada, did willfully and purposely kill Marcus Bondurant by cutting his throat. Mister Bondurant’s son, Amos, is here and will give testimony at a later date. I will prove that the Defendant and the victim had bad blood between them. I will prove that the Defendant was filled with greed over the victim’s land holdings and will prove why, on that fateful day, things got terribly out of hand. You will see the reasons why the Defendant killed Mister Bondurant.”

Dallas seemed to be looking at Coleman, but she was also taking what seemed to be notes of her own. In a way, she was. Mostly what she was doing was writing something for Ben to read: He sure is making a lot of promises of proof. He can’t prove that you did kill Marcus, and I, right now, can’t prove that you didn’t. I know that you didn’t. Am glad that the burden of proof lies in William’s hands, not mine.

The Prosecutor’s voice droned on and on and on. Adam had to pinch Hoss to keep him from falling asleep in his chair. Joe fidgeted. Adam kept his eyes straight ahead, watching Dallas and Ben and their reactions. Both Dallas and Ben had excellent poker faces.

Finally, William was finished reading his Opening Statement. He thanked the jury for its attention and then sat down.

Judge Ellerbee looked at Herman. “Did you get all of that down on paper?”

“Yes, Sir. Would you like for me to read it back?”

Ellerbee stifled a groan. “No. That won’t be necessary. Miz Montgomery? Are you ready with your Opening Statement?”

“I am, Your Honor.”

“Proceed then.”

Dallas walked confidently toward the jury. She carried no notes with her. “Good morning.” She smiled but got very few smiles in return. She expected that. “I don’t have a lot to say. I don’t have pages of notes to read from. What I have to say is direct and to the point. Was there a murder that took place? Yes. You will hear from Amos Bondurant, the victim’s son who found his father already deceased. You will hear from the Sheriff of Virginia City and also from the doctor who practices there that a murder was, indeed, committed. You will be able to read the Inquest Report which states that the victim was murdered. Those facts are not in dispute. Did Ben Cartwright and Marcus Bondurant not get along with each other? That’s true. There’ll be testimony as to the reasons of ‘why’ as this trial progresses. So that’s not a subject in dispute. What is in dispute is the identity of the person who committed this senseless act. It was not Ben Cartwright. The Prosecutor says that he can prove that it was my client who killed Marcus Bondurant. How can he prove it without any eyewitnesses? Frankly, I don’t see how he can actually prove very much at all. Right now, you’re wondering if I can prove that Ben Cartwright has been wrongly accused. My honest answer is that I can’t – not any more than the Prosecutor can. I ask you to listen to all the testimony carefully. Keep an open mind. You have paper to take notes on – take as many notes as you need. You hold, in your hands, the fate of an innocent man. If you have questions as to what has been said, write those questions down and hand them to the bailiff as you leave the jury box. He’ll give your note, without divulging who wrote the note, to Judge Ellerbee. And, I promise, you’ll get the answers to your questions. Thank you for giving me your complete attention.”

Dallas walked back to sit by Ben. As she sat down, she glanced at Adam, Hoss and Joe. A smile tugged at their lips. A positive sign of approval.

Judge Ellerbee looked at the clock. It wasn’t quite noon yet, but he was hungry. “This court is in recess for one hour! I caution the jury members to not speak to anyone about what was said in here. And I don’t want to read about this in the newspaper, verbatim.”

Down came the gavel. “All rise,” said the bailiff. People rose as the Judge went into his chambers. The first thing he did was to take a swig of whiskey. This is gonna be a lulu of a trial.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Rosalita brought food for Ben and Dallas, but they weren’t allowed to eat lunch together. Ben was led off to a private room in the courthouse where he ate in solitude and pondered over Dallas’s Opening Statement. It was good but did she tip her hand when she mentioned that she couldn’t prove that Ben was innocent?

 

Dallas sidled over to Herman and shared half her sandwich with him. He hadn’t brought lunch today and didn’t want to leave just in case the Judge came back in early.

Putting her hand on Herman’s shoulder, Dallas looked down at his notes. They were written in the same shorthand – Pittman – that Dallas herself used. She could read everything perfectly.

“You take perfect shorthand, Herman. How many words can you take in a minute? Do you know?”

“Yes, ma’am. My best is one hundred thirty five words per minute. It’s a record!” He looked so proud.

“Well, don’t tell William Coleman that. Or Judge Ellerbee. William will try to trip you up by talking even faster than he already does. And the Judge won’t be sympathetic if you have to read something back and miss a few words. As it is, right now, the Judge is keeping an eye on you and is trying to force William to slow down in his speech. I’d like to keep it that way to make sure that the jurors understand everything that’s being said.”

Herman smiled. “I’ll keep my mouth shut. Even though I can keep up with William easily, this can be our secret.”

“Thank you, Herman. It would appear that you and I are regarded as the underdogs. Let’s teach folks differently. Now, please excuse me. I have to read my notes. Sheriff Coffee, according to William’s list of names that he handed me before he and Amos went to lunch, will be the first witness. I pretty much know what the Sheriff will say because I’ve already interviewed him. But I need to look like I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? I mean, do you really know what you’re doing? Do you believe in Mister Cartwright’s innocence.”

“Yes, Herman. I really do!”

“Thanks for the sandwich. I was getting hungry. Tomorrow I’ll bring something to eat.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” Dallas said honestly. Both she and Herman knew there was no intent to sway the Court Reporter over to her side. His job was to take down testimony – not judge it.

People began filing into the courtroom, curious to see what would happen next. Among these people was a man not from Carson City. His evil eyes fixed on one person in particular, one whom he had kept an eye on from behind some rocks yesterday. He spoke to no one today but just took a seat in the back of the room. His eyes were flat black – like a snake’s eyes. Nobody questioned who he was. Nobody even thought to wonder about his identity. He was just a face in a sea of faces.

Adam, Hoss and Joe took their seats and smiled at their father as the bailiff led Ben to the Defendant’s table. Dallas nodded at him, and he nodded back. She wrote him a note and slipped it to where he could read it easily. Good lunch?

He wrote back: Delicious. But I was lonesome.

Dallas’s reply: So sorry.

From him: Dinner tonight? All of us?

From her: Absolutely!

Adam leaned forward and whispered, “You okay, Pa?”

Ben whispered back. “I’m fine.” Ben gave a low chuckle. “Did you shave again?”

“I was afraid not to!”

There was a whispered comment from Dallas to Adam. “You look very handsome. That red shirt suits your coloring.”

Adam, surprised at the compliment, nodded and sat back in his chair. He did not tilt it back.

The jurors were herded in and were seated in the jury box.

“All rise! This Court is again in session. Judge Wayne Ellerbee presiding.”

Everybody stood and waited for Ellerbee to be seated. He looked at Herman. “Let the Record reflect today’s date and time. We have been in recess for one hour. The twelve jurors and the two alternates are seated. Both the Prosecution and the Defendant attorney’s are present. We are now ready to hear testimony. Prosecutor Coleman, are you ready?”

“Yes, Your Honor. The Prosecution calls Amos Bondurant to the stand.”

The bailiff was waiting for Amos. “Put your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand.”

Amos complied.

“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Yessir, I do.”

“Take the stand and state your name for the record. Then spell your name.”

Amos sat in the indicated chair. He looked nervous. Dallas’s heart went out to him.

“My name is Amos Bondurant.” Then he spelled his name.

William Coleman stood slightly off-center from the witness stand. His questioning began. And Dallas held her pencil over a blank sheet of paper, ready to take notes.

“What is the relationship between you and the deceased?”

“He was my father.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“How long have you known the Defendant, Ben Cartwright?”

“For a long time. Ever since I was little. I guess about fourteen or fifteen years.”

“Do you get along with the Defendant? Are you friendly with him?”

Amos shrugged. “I don’t know how to answer that. I guess I can say that we got along when I was younger but we’re just polite to each other now.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he and my Pa stopped being friends. They started arguing a lot. My duty was to stand with my Pa.”

“What did your father and Mister Cartwright argue about?”

Dallas stood up. “Objection, Your Honor. We are interested only in one specific area of disagreement.”

Ellerbee rolled his eyes. “Are you going to be a trouble-maker, Miz Montgomery?”

“Yes,” Dallas answered flatly.

Ellerbee looked at Amos. “Did your father and the Defendant disagree, as far as you can remember, over many things?”

“Yessir, they did.”

“Objection sustained. Rephrase your question, Mister Coleman.”

William shrugged. “What was the main thing that caused arguments between your father and the Defendant?”

“They argued about the land at Red Fern Creek.”

“And why was that?”

“Mister Cartwright said that he owned that land. My father believed that it belonged to us.”

“Was a survey made?”

“I don’t know for sure. I know only that the creek kept changing boundaries because of the amount of snow melt. When the creek was on our  When side, the land belonged to us. When it overflowed and moved to where it was located years ago, it belonged to the Cartwrights. Sometimes the creek was so flooded that nobody could tell whose land was whose. Mister Cartwright wanted to buy an acre of our part of the land so that he could own it. Pa wouldn’t sell.”

 

Dallas jotted something down on her paper.

“Didn’t the Defendant offer a fair purchase price?”

 

Amos shrugged. “I don’t know. But Pa found some gold when the creek was on our land, so he wouldn’t sell. He told me not to tell anybody about that.”

 

Dallas’s pencil moved across her paper.

 

“Let’s move on to the day before your father was murdered.” William looked rather cocky.

 

“Objection, Your Honor!” Dallas looked angry.

 

“On what basis, Miz Montgomery?” Ellerbee rolled his eyes again.

 

“The word ‘murder’ should be stricken from the record. ‘Murder’ hasn’t been proven yet. It’s prejudicial against my client. He’s the only Defendant in this trial.”

 

Sighing, the Judge looked at William. “Sustained. Strike the word ‘murder’ from the Record.”

 

“I’ll rephrase, Your Honor. Amos, we’re moving on to the day before your father’s death. Tell me about that day.”

 

“Mister Cartwright came to the house. He and Pa had a big argument. I heard them all the way out to the barn where I was mucking the stalls and spreading hay. I came into the house through the back door and saw them waving their fists at each other and hollering at each other.”

 

“And what were they arguing about?”

 

“I don’t know. They were hollering over each other so bad that I couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. I figured they were fighting over the land again. I got scared and ran out to the barn, jumped on my horse and rode off into the woods.”

 

“About what time did this argument take place?”

 

“Maybe around three o’clock.”

 

“How long had Mister Cartwright been at your house?”

 

“I don’t know. I never heard him ride up. Uh, I’m awful thirsty. Could I have some water, please?”

 

Judge Ellerbee nodded. “This Court will be in recess for fifteen minutes.”

 

“All rise!” intoned the bailiff.

 

Everybody stood up as Ellerbee headed for his chambers. He slumped in his chair and thought about Dallas. She, by her own words, was going to be a problem.

 

 CHAPTER THIRTY

 

Court was now back in session, and the usual formalities of and for the Judge were recorded by Herman. Amos took the stand. Coleman began his questioning.

 

“You said, before the recess, that you rode off into the woods. What did you do while you were there?”

 

“I unsaddled my horse. Then I sat down to try to relax. I guess I feel asleep.”

 

“And when did you wake up?”

 

“I’m not sure. Maybe around 8 o’clock?”

 

“What did you do then?”

 

“I went home.”

 

“And what did you see when you got home?”

 

“I saw my Pa lying dead on the front steps.”

 

“What did you do then?”

 

“Well, I ran to him and held one of his hands. I shook his arm. I was crying. I didn’t want him to be dead.” Amos’s eyes brimmed with tears.

 

“Was he lying face down or face up?”

 

“Face down. I had to turn him over.”

 

“Where was his body lying?”

 

“Most of him was on the top step. His legs were on the porch in front of the door.”

 

“Did you see any signs of injury?”

 

“I saw that his throat had been cut. It looked like a slice made by a sharp knife.”

 

“Your father carried a knife, didn’t he?”

 

“Yessir. Always. He was an expert with a knife. He could hit a target fifty feet away.”

 

“Did you find his knife?”

 

“Yessir. It was on the steps to the porch.”

 

“Did he have guns in the house?”

 

“Yessir. But he used the rifle and the handgun to hunt with. He always said that knives were more dependable – that they wouldn’t jam or misfire.”

 

Coleman paced a moment. “Why didn’t you go home sooner?”

 

“I was asleep. I went home as soon as I woke up. I really was afraid to go home. I was scared that Mister Cartwright and my Pa had killed each other. One would be stabbed and the other would be shot.”

 

“When you realized that your father was dead, what did you do?”

 

“I rode into town as fast as I could. I told Sheriff Coffee. He ran to fetch Doc. We rode back out to the ranch together.”

 

“So, Doctor Martin and Sheriff Coffee both examined your father?”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“Sheriff Coffee told me to let the horses out of the barn. Well, all but one anyway. We used that horse to tote my Pa to Virginia City. Doc wanted to examine Pa more thoroughly before giving him to the undertaker. Sheriff Coffee said that there would be an Inquest and that I should get some clothes so I could stay at Miss Charlotte’s Boarding House.”

 

“So you went inside the house to get some clothes?”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“Did you see any evidence of a fight inside the house? Was furniture turned over? Were things broken or out of place?”

 

“No, sir. I didn’t see anything like that. I just went to my room and got stuff to take with me, like Sheriff Coffee had told me to. Oh, and I got a blanket to wrap Pa in and a suit for him to be buried in.”

 

“Think hard about this next question, Amos. Did your father have any enemies?”

 

“Not that I know of. He got along well with almost everybody. Except for Mister Cartwright.”

 

“Would anyone have good reason to kill your father?”

 

“Only Mister Cartwright.”

 

Dallas stood up abruptly. “Objection, Your Honor! That’s pure speculation and therefore should be inadmissible!”

 

“Objection sustained,” sighed Judge Ellerbee.

 

“That’s all the questions I have at this time, Your Honor,” Coleman said as he glared at Dallas.

 

“Your witness, Miz Montgomery,” instructed the Judge.

 

“Thank you, Sir.” Dallas gathered up the paper that she had been writing notes on. She also gathered up a set of the papers she had transcribed from yesterday’s on-scene visit.

 

“Hello, Amos. I’m sorry to have met you under such terrible conditions.” Dallas’s demeanor had changed and so had the tone of her voice. It was loud enough to hear, but it had a gentleness to it that was almost tangible. In reality, Dallas did mean what she said and wanted it to sound completely genuine.

 

Amos looked at her and gave a slight smile. “Hello, Miz Montgomery.”

 

“Amos, yesterday was hard on you, but today will be much harder. I apologize for that. But this trial is absolutely necessary because a man’s life is at stake. It’s mandatory that you are completely truthful. You swore it on the Bible before you took the stand.”

 

“Yes’m.”

 

Dallas looked at the papers in her hand, handing a sheaf of some up to Judge Ellerbee. “I would like to give you this and have it recorded as Exhibit 1.”

 

Ellerbee looked over the transcription of Dallas’s notes and sketches from the day before. “Does the Prosecutor have a copy of this?”

 

“I gave it to him already,” Dallas answered quietly and looked in William Coleman’s direction. “It’s the transcription of my notes taken at the Bondurant ranch.”

 

“Yes,” William said. “I have those papers.”

 

“Proceed,” Ellerbee said with furrowed brow. “Let the Record show that this is entered by the Defense as Exhibit 1.” Why would an attorney want her notes as evidence?

 

“Amos, I’m having trouble with parts of your testimony. I’d like to go over them with you now if I may so that I’m clear on what you told me. You testified that the main disagreement between your father and Ben Cartwright was over the land at Red Fern Creek.

 

“Yes’m.”

 

“I think something needs to be added here. Your father found gold in Red Fern Creek when the creek changed its course onto Bondurant land. He didn’t want Mister Cartwright to know that he had found some gold which is why he argued so hard to keep that portion of the land. Is that a correct statement?”

 

Amos shifted in his seat. “I suppose so.”

 

“When the snow melted and the creek changed course again, the water – and the gold in the gravel – shifted back to Ponderosa property. Is that correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“This document, which I offer as Exhibit 2, shows that your father had the land surveyed again. It says that Red Fern Creek was on Ponderosa property.” Here, Dallas handed the Judge a piece of paper which had been notarized and recorded in the Virginia City Plat Book. William shuffled through his papers and found that he had overlooked that part of the papers given to him by Dallas. He nodded his head, indicating that he had the document.

 

“Let the Record show that this document is entered by the Defense as Exhibit 2.” 

 

“I have here another document, also notarized and recorded in the Virginia City Plat Book, that shows the Red Fern Creek to be on Bondurant property. I offer it as Exhibit 3.”

 

Coleman’s face began to turn red. He hadn’t bothered to take a good look at everything Dallas had given him. “I have it, Your Honor.”

 

“Let the Record show that this document is entered by the Defense as Exhibit 3.” 

 

“Your Honor, due to an oversight on my part, I failed to enter statements and depositions into evidence. I’d like to do so now if I may.”

 

Judge Ellerbee groaned. “Mister Coleman, you know better than that! Before you began your questioning of Amos Bondurant, everything evidentiary should have been presented to the Court. If Miz Montgomery doesn’t mind, I’ll allow it. If she does mind, you’ll be forced to wait. Miz Montgomery, what say you?”

 

“I don’t mind at all, Your Honor. It will only serve to help the Defense in this case.”

 

“What have you got, Mister Coleman?”

 

“I have statements taken immediately following the death of Marcus Bondurant. I have a statement from the undertake, Reed Tanner. I have Depositions taken before the Inquest and also a copy of the Indictment handed down by the Grand Jury against Ben Cartwright.”

 

“Hand ’em up here.” Ellerbee growled. “But I am admitting them into Evidence as only Exhibit 1. Is that clear?”

 

“Yes, Your Honor. It is.” William Coleman gave an audible sigh.

 

“Let the Record show that this document is entered by the Plaintiff as Exhibit 1.” Judge Ellerbee looked at his watch. There was a lot of time left before he could call a recess until tomorrow.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

 

Dallas had embarrassed William Coleman. But she wasn’t sorry. She was showing everyone that she, a female, could handle herself. She turned back to face Amos.

 

“Is it true that Red Fern Creek is now back on Cartwright land?”

 

“I don’t know. The survey stake changes so much that I don’t even bother to look at it.”

 

Dallas pulled out yet another sheet of paper. “Permission to enter this as Defendant’s Exhibit 4.”

 

Ellerbee’s terse answer was, “Done.” 

 

“For the sake of the jury, this paper shows that Red Fern Creek is, indeed, on Cartwright property. If any one of you needs to look at it, I’m sure that Judge Ellerbee will allow it.” Nobody wanted to see it. William Coleman was glad – it was yet one more of Dallas’s papers that he hadn’t bothered to read.

 

Dallas faced Amos again. “Your father, according to your Deposition, had saved a large sum of money to buy Red Fern Creek from Ben Cartwright. Would that be a true statement?”

 

“Yes. But Mister Cartwright wouldn’t sell for any amount of money when he found out that my father wanted to mine the land right above and East of the creek. Mister Cartwright is rich. He doesn’t need the gold that may be there. He’s just being mean and greedy.”

 

“Do you know for a fact that there is gold to be mined above and east of the creek?”

 

“Pa recently sank some test holes until he got to the gravel. There was some gold in some of those holes. Pa was real excited but told me and the assayer to keep our mouths shut. If we told, folks’d be coming onto our property from everywhere and taking what’s ours! And I bet Mister Cartwright knows that his side of the creek has gold in it too. He wants it all!”

 

“When Mister Cartwright came to your house the day before your father’s death, is that what they were arguing about – the fact that your father believed that Mister Cartwright wanted to mine the gold himself?”

 

“Objection!” shouted William Coleman. “She’s asking Amos to look into his father’s mind!”

 

“I’m asking for Amos’s personal opinion. According to the law, I am allowed to ask such a question. Shall I read the Statute, Your Honor?”

 

“No!” snapped Ellerbee. “Objection overruled. Answer the question.”

 

“I don’t know for sure. I only heard the words ‘land’ and ‘gold’.” Amos looked uncomfortable.

 

“Didn’t you say earlier that the two men were yelling and shouting so loud that you couldn’t hear what they were saying?”

 

“Well… I think I heard those words.”

 

Dallas let the thought sink into the jurors’ minds. Then she bombarded Amos with rapid-fire questions. She hated to do it, but she had to. The questions she asked now would be important later.

 

“In your Deposition, you stated that your father never lit the lantern outside but always kept it full of oil in case company came.”

 

“Yes’m. If he heard strange noises at night, he wouldn’t light it because it just made him a good target and didn’t light up whatever caused the strange noises.”

 

“Then why is it that the lantern, kept on the porch, was empty of oil with the wick not touching anything?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe Mister Cartwright called out to him and he was afraid.”

 

“Move to strike that answer, Your Honor. It calls for speculation and is prejudicial.”

 

“Sustained.”

 

“I now offer the lantern into evidence as Defense’s Exhibit 5. And I found this piece of metal in the garden. I offer it as Defense’s Exhibit 6.”

 

“Done.” Ellerbee couldn’t figure out what Dallas was up to, but he was now very curious.

 

Dallas turned to face Amos. “You said you held your father’s hands and shook them and pulled on his arms to see if you could wake him up.”

 

“Yes’m.”

 

“Was there blood on his hands?”

 

“No.”

 

Dallas’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but she said nothing.

 

“Was there a lot of blood under your father’s head?”

 

“No.”

 

Again, Dallas looked surprised. “Where did you find your father’s knife?”

 

“Kinda next to him on the second step.”

 

“Did you happen to notice any marks on your father’s hands that might lead you to believe that he had been in a fight?”

 

“His hands had blood on them. I couldn’t tell.”

 

“And you say that you slept in the woods from around 4 o’clock in the afternoon until around eight or nine o’clock the next morning.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s an extremely long time to stay asleep, Amos. That’s a minimum of eighteen hours of sleep if your times are correct. Were you ill?”

 

Amos shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“No.”

 

“Did you build a fire to keep the bugs and the wild creatures away?”

 

“No. I just went to sleep.”

 

“You said that you were afraid to go home. Afraid that your father had stabbed Mister Cartwright and that Mister Cartwright had shot your father. Isn’t that what you said?

 

William stood up. “Objection! Badgering the witness!”

 

“Your Honor, this goes to Amos’s prior testimony. On paper and also in front of Mister Coleman, Sheriff Coffee and Doctor Martin and the Defendant, Amos said that Mister Cartwright never carried a gun when he went to the Bondurant ranch. He also said that the two men were waving their arms around in the air during the argument and that their hands were empty of any weapons of any kind. Now he is insinuating that Mister Cartwright might have shot his father.”

 

“Objection overruled. You may continue, Miz Montgomery.”

 

“Amos, have you told the whole truth while you’ve been on the stand?”

 

Amos was struggling with his thoughts. He wondered how much Dallas knew but wasn’t telling.

 

“I didn’t sleep in the woods all night. I went to stay with Zhong Chinn and his family until morning.”

 

“And who is Zhong Chinn?”

 

“He’s a good friend of mine. And so is his sister, Jiang. Mister and Miz Chinn let me stay at their house even though they don’t really like me.”

 

“Why don’t they like you?”

 

“Because Jiang and I are in love.”

 

William Coleman’s jaw dropped. He had been blind-sided. So had Dallas.

 

“Why didn’t you tell Mister Coleman about this?”

 

“I didn’t want to get the Chinn family in trouble. I have enough of a hard time getting along with them as it is.” Amos hung his head.

 

Ellerbee spoke. “I will see to it that the entire Chinn family is immediately issued a subpoena.” He looked at Amos. “When you tell a one lie, how do you expect the jury to believe anything that you say?”

 

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

 

“I’m inclined to throw your whole testimony out,” growled Ellerbee. “But I won’t because what you say can be refuted later. We’ll see.”

 

Dallas spoke. “I have no further questions for this witness right now. But I may recall him later.”

 

“Don’t leave town, Amos. I want to see you seated next to Mister Coleman every day. Now step down from your seat.”

 

Amos trudged back to the Prosecutor’s table where William was running his hands through his hair, completely exasperated.

 

Dallas sat down at the Defense table next to Ben. “Even a blind hog can find an acorn every once in a while,” she whispered.

 

“This will end today’s testimony!” Ellerbee barked. “We will begin promptly at nine in the morning.”

 

There were the usual formalities as the Judge left the bench. Instead of having a drink, he smoked his pipe and went through the paperwork from today. He didn’t want to be caught not knowing what had been presented. Dallas had certainly surprised him with her thoroughness. William, supposedly a good attorney from Virginia City, apparently hadn’t been interested enough to read the papers all the way through.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

 

Outside of the Courthouse, Dallas and Ben met up with Adam, Hoss and Joe.

 

“I reck’n I don’t know much ’bout the law, but you sure did ketch Coleman by surprise,” Hoss said, his face serious but his eyes twinkling.

 

“That’s because business men – especially attorneys and judges – don’t take women seriously. Now you understand why it’s so important that I stay several jumps ahead of the Prosecution. I’m going to have to work extra hard to figure out what Coleman’s plans are next. He didn’t bother to tell me who he plans to call to the stand next, and I really hadn’t planned on his calling Amos first. I’ve got to be ready for anything and anyone.” Dallas’s brow furrowed. “Ben, would you mind if I didn’t go to dinner with you all tonight? I’ve got more notes to go over and…”

 

“I certainly do mind if you back out of dinner,” Ben answered quietly. “You have to eat to keep up your strength. We can make it a short evening, but you will eat with us!”

 

Dallas’s lips twitched. “Are you playing ‘alpha’ with me?”

 

Adam chuckled. Hoss and Joe looked at each other and nodded.

 

“I certainly am,” came Ben’s answer. “You’re not the only one who can play this game.”

 

Dallas made a comical face. “Apparently not. Where did I go wrong? I guess the answer to that is the fact that I explained it to begin with! Well, let’s go, then. If you’d like to try a different restaurant, there’s one down the street and around the corner. The food there is excellent.”

 

“Won’t Rosalita be mad if we go somewhere else?” Joe didn’t want Rosalita to be upset. He really enjoyed her cooking.

 

“Of course she’ll be mad – for about a minute. Then she’ll get over it. She understands that folks need a change every now and then. She just doesn’t want to be caught understanding so she puts up a big front.”

 

How did you two become such apparently-good friends?” Ben asked.

 

“I represented her son in a bank-robbery case. He was found ‘Not Guilty’ because he wasn’t guilty. The man who robbed the bank was stupid and was caught two weeks later. Ever since the verdict was given, Rosalita has taken charge of seeing that I eat right and that my friends eat right.” 

 

As they walked down the street, they drew many stares and whispers.

 

“Looks like some gossip is starting up,” Adam observed.

 

“Get used to it,” replied Dallas. “It will get worse before it gets better.”

 

The group reached a rather battered building with the words “Chez Ami” written on the sign above the door.

 

“This is the place,” Dallas grinned as she opened the door.

 

Frankly, on the outside, the place looked like a dump. But it was quite upscale on the inside. Dallas was met by a woman with a big smile. “Dallas!” The woman had an accent and kissed Dallas on both cheeks.

 

Dallas made a peculiar introduction. “Francine, I’d like for you to meet Ben Cartwright and his sons. Ben is on trial for murder, and I’m representing him.”

 

“Ah, he is innocent then!” This was not a question. It was a statement. Francine knew that Dallas would represent only a person she felt strongly to be innocent. “Jacques! Come here! Come greet Dallas!”

 

“Jacques” appeared, a smile plastered all over his face. “Dallas, how wonderful to see you!” He, too, kissed Dallas on both cheeks. 

 

“This is Ben Cartwright. These are his sons. Ben is the man on trial for murder. Dallas is representing him.”

 

“Ah,” Jacques said. “How pleased I am to meet all of you.” His accent was thick. And then, as he shook hands with each Cartwright, he kissed them on both cheeks. “Welcome! Welcome! You will be found innocent of all charges! Dallas will make it so! Yes? Sit! Sit! Our food – c’est magnifique!”

 

Francine directed the group to a table and made sure that they were all seated. “What you will eat tonight?” she asked Dallas.

 

“Whatever you choose. And lots of it!” Dallas said with a broad smile.

 

Francine disappeared. Hoss wiped his cheek. “I ain’t never been kissed by no man before – except by Pa, of course.”

 

Dallas laughed – a hearty laugh. “Francine and Jacques are from France. Kissing men and women on both cheeks is what Europeans do when they greet each other. Though they usually are friends first. I guess Francine and Jacques see you as my friends, so they treat you like you are their friends. If they see you wiping away their ‘greeting’, they’d be insulted. And they keep a small clientele – the more ‘elite’ people in Carson City.”

 

Francine approached with a platter of steaming soup, French bread, still warm from the oven and a tub of fresh butter. Dallas and Francine spoke easily to each other in French and then Francine returned to the kitchen.

 

Joe and Hoss looked at the contents of the bowl, their brows furrowed. They reached for the bread and butter instead. Ben and Adam looked at each other and smiled but said nothing.

 

“The soup is broccoli with onions and mild spices and a rich, creamy sauce,” Dallas said as she dipped her spoon into her bowl. “If you try it, you’ll beg for the recipe to give to Hop Sing.”

 

One taste, and Hoss and Joe were hooked. “And I don’t even like broccoli,” Hoss said between mouthfuls of soup and bread. Joe just nodded as he kept spooning the soup into his mouth.

 

“Try not to look like pigs at the trough,” Adam said as he looked at his brothers, shaking his head. French food was not new to him, or to Ben, because they had traveled to so many different places and tried all different kinds of food.

 

Ben laughed. “C’est magnifique!”

 

Dallas was glad that they were eating early. She needed to get back to the office and to try to figure out who Coleman would call to the stand. Also, eating at this early hour practically assured the group of privacy. But, oh-oh. Look who came walking in the door – those two gossips, Miss Tidwell and Miss Franklin. And, horror of horrors, they were headed in Dallas’s direction!

 

“I don’t have time to say why but this is the time to be perfect gentlemen. If we’re going to be gossiped about, let it be good gossip! Be charming and try to act sincere.” Dallas plastered a welcoming smile on her face.

 

As soon as the two ladies arrived at the table, like the gentlemen they were, all four Cartwrights rose to their feet and smiled at the spinsters.

 

“Hello to you two!” Dallas said with as much warmth as she could muster. “I’d like to introduce Ben Cartwright and his three sons, Adam, Hoss and Joe. This is Miss Dorothea Tidwell and Miss Madeline Franklin.”

 

“Oh, we know who they are already,” Dorothea said. “We were in Court all day, watching the proceedings. Quite interesting.”

 

“Mister Cartwright…?” Madeline started to say.

 

Ben smiled. “Please, just call me ‘Ben’. Dallas has told me so much about both of you. Won’t you sit down and enjoy a meal with us?”

 

Dallas choked on her glass of water. Adam patted her on her back. The men remained standing and waiting for an answer.

 

“’Ben’ it is, then,” Madeline’s eyes were big as pie plates. “Did you murder Marcus Bondurant?”

 

Dallas gasped for breath. “I’m so sorry. I must’ve gotten choked on a bread crumb or water or something.”

 

Adam bent down and whispered, “Or something.” He gave a low chuckle. He remembered the night when he and his brothers had run into these two women and the comment that Dallas had made about the gossip that would probably ensue – that she was sleeping with the three men, probably all at the same time.

 

Ben’s laugh was genuine. “No. I can assure you that I most certainly did not kill Marcus Bondurant.”

 

Francine entered the room and kissed the two ladies on their cheeks. Dallas had said that Francine and Jacques catered to the “elite” and therefore these two spinsters must be on that list.

 

“Francine, would you mind if we added two more chairs to our table? We’ve invited these ladies to dine with us.”

 

“What fun! A party! Yes, you may bring two chairs more. I will get more soup and bread.”

 

Dorothea looked at Dallas. “Are we interrupting anything? Is it all right if we join you?”

 

Dallas handled the situation tactfully. “If four handsome strangers with excellent manners invited me to dine with them, I’d be flattered. And I would enjoy their company.”

 

“Then we accept your most kind invitation,” Madeline said with a smile. 

 

Hoss grabbed two chairs and seated Dorothea while Ben seated Madeline. Adam looked at Dallas and smirked. Only then did the Cartwrights sit down.

 

Francine arrived with two bowls of soup and more bread and butter. And a large bottle of wine. She poured a small bit into Ben’s glass which he swirled around gently and then let the aroma fill his nostrils. Only then did he taste it. “It’s excellent,” he pronounced.

 

“It’s French wine,” Francine said proudly. 

 

“Is there any other kind?” Ben asked, a smile still on his face.

 

Francine filled everyone’s glasses, left the bottle on the table, and returned to the kitchen.

 

Adam, with a smirky smile on his lips, was quick to offer slices of bread and butter to the new guests as they spooned the creamed soup into their mouths.

 

Between mouthfuls, Madeline spoke. “You and your sons have excellent manners. It’s so difficult to find men with those qualities any more. Your wife must be very proud of you and your sons.”

 

“My wife died many years ago. I raised my sons alone.”

 

“Oh, dear! I’m so sorry to hear that!” said Dorothea, who was delighted to be in the company of such handsome and eligible bachelors. Even if they all were too young. “Well, you taught them well.”

 

“You’re most kind,” Ben responded.

 

Mundane chit-chat ensued until Francine and Jacques brought out the main meal. Francine spoke in French to the two ladies as she served them first. Seeing the confused faces around her, Dallas translated. “She just assumed that Madeline and Dorothea would eat what we are eating. She asked if this was all right.”

 

Hoss looked at his plate and whispered, after Francine and Jacques had left the room, “Them’s the puniest little chickens I ever seen!”

 

Dallas laughed. “Hoss, those are Cornish Hens. They’re meant to be small.”

 

“What are these?” Joe asked as he pointed to the items surrounding the hens.

 

Adam answered before Dallas could open her mouth. “Those are peeled grapes. And the other things are shallots. You’ll like them.”

 

Both Joe and Hoss poked at their asparagus. It was covered with some kind of sauce. Ben came to their rescue. “That’s Hollandaise Sauce. It adds extra tang to the asparagus.”

 

Hoss and Joe watched their father as he slowly cut into his Cornish Hen. His comment was sincere. “I’ve sailed all around the world and have eaten all kinds of chicken, but this is the best Cornish Hen I’ve ever tasted.”

 

“They assuredly never cooked anything this delicious back East,” Adam added.

 

“You were a sailor, Ben?” Dorothea was cutting a slice of crunchy asparagus.

 

“I was a sea captain, ma’am, for many years.”

 

“And Adam? You said you were ‘back East’?” Madeline was separating the tiny drumstick from the main body of the hen.

 

“I went to college, ma’am. I have a degree in architecture and engineering.” Adam sipped his wine and poured more into everyone’s glasses.

 

Madeline’s eyes went to Hoss and then to Joe.

 

“We chose to stay on the Ponderosa and learn how to be ranchers. We learned how to plant hay and alfalfa. How to choose good sturdy livestock. Pa wanted us to go to college, but we decided we wanted to follow in Pa’s footsteps.” Joe spoke for himself and for Hoss.

 

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with learning a good, honest work ethic. Both Dorothea and I love nature, love the outdoors. Our times of employment, alas, have come to an end. But we were productive in our own way – as much as females were allowed to be many years ago.”

 

Dallas was beginning to like these ladies even though they were the biggest gossipers in town. If things were hard for females now, what must they have been like in years gone by?

 

“How were you employed?” Dallas asked.

 

Madeline answered for both of them. “We worked in a factory that was run by men only. We found ourselves to be secretaries, servants, and some other useless things. Dallas, you’re very brave to set out in the world as an attorney. It can’t be easy.”

 

Dallas shook her head. “No, it isn’t. I guess I’m just too hard-headed to try anything else.”

 

Dorothea, on her third glass of wine, said, “I’m proud to say that my niece is in college and is writing her thesis for her Ph. D. During this summer, she is working for a railroad tycoon who is in charge of getting the railroad built eastward to meet the westward railroad. She’s the secretary right now, in charge of writing letters and taking dictation. But she also has spent a very long time learning to speak Chinese so that she can translate from the railroad boss to the Chinese workmen. She’s invaluable, so I hear. I’m delighted to say that she’s coming to visit me within the week.”

 

“I wonder if she takes Pittman Shorthand. Do you know?”

 

“Why, yes. I believe she does! Do you?”

 

“Yes, ma’am. And I’m fascinated that she speaks Chinese. I don’t know anyone who does – except for the Chinese, of course. She must be quite intelligent.”

 

Madeline, now on her fourth glass of wine, nodded. “My nephew is an artist in Chicago. He paints and sells beautiful landscapes. As a matter of fact, he came out West for a short time and painted a picture of the landscape around here. I was so taken with that picture that I just had to see it for myself. And I’ve lived here ever since.”

 

Dinner dishes were cleared away quietly. Dessert was a blueberry parfait. By the time the meal was over, there were three bottles of wine on the table – all empty. Most of the contents had been drunk by Madeline and Dorothea. Both women reached into their purses, but Ben stopped them. He knew that they were intending to pay for their meals.

 

“No,” he said gently as he covered Madeline’s hand. “This was our pleasure.”

 

Madeline’s rheumy eyes met Ben’s brown ones. “You’re quite the gentleman. I don’t know when we’ve been in the company of finer people. And, for what it’s worth, I don’t believe for a minute that you killed Marcus Bondurant!”

 

“I don’t either,” added Dorothea. “But we must leave now. The hour is late, and sometimes it’s not very safe for two ladies to walk home alone.”

 

Hoss and Adam stood up. “We’ll be more than happy to escort you safely to your front doors.” 

 

Adam nudged Hoss who stood up and extended his arm to Dorothea. Adam did likewise to Madeline.

 

“We’ll see you back at the Hotel,” Adam said as he reached the door to the outside.

 

And then they were gone.

 

Dallas repeated a favorite phrase. “That went well, don’t you think?”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

 

“I really have to get back to the office,” Dallas said, sounding rueful. “I need to go over everything that I have to be sure things are fixed firmly in my mind. Trying to anticipate William Coleman and his next move makes it extra difficult for me.”

 

“I understand,” Ben responded as he held Dallas’s elbow, steering her down the bumpy boardwalk.

 

“You know, I don’t think that those two women were so bad after all,” Joe mused aloud.

 

“Well, you Cartwrights sure do know how to turn on the charm. By this time tomorrow, the town will be gossiping about all of you and what gentlemen you all are and how Ben absolutely could not have committed any murder!” Dallas laughed. “Too bad they can’t be turned loose with the jury!”

 

Arriving at the door to her office, Dallas turned the doorknob. Ben was horrified!

 

“Don’t you lock your office door? This is where you live as well as where you work! You’re leaving yourself wide open for theft. Or worse. Don’t you have a key?”

 

“I do have a key. Up until now, I never thought about being robbed. Business is not exactly booming, so I don’t have too many things that a thief would be interested in.”

 

“Pa’s not talking about just thieves,” Joe commented. “There are men in town who might want more from you than you’re aware of.”

 

Dallas snorted. “And, at my age, just who would that be?”

 

“Me,” Ben responded, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

Joe laughed out loud. He felt a chemistry between his father and Dallas and was hoping for a happy outcome – in court and out of court.

 

Dallas kissed both men on their cheeks and then walked through the door, closing it gently behind her.

 

“Lock the door!” Ben demanded.

 

“Oh, all right,” came the answer. There was an audible “click” as the key turned the lock’s tumbler. “Are you happy now?”

 

Ben tried the door knob and found the door to be securely locked. “I’m delighted.”

 

“I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning,” Dallas called.

 

“I certainly am counting on it,” Ben replied.

 

He and Joe headed to the Hotel, blissfully unaware that evil eyes were watching.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

 

As Dallas was making reminder notes to herself for the next day, there was a rap at the window. Startled but unafraid, Dallas pulled the curtains aside and stared into the face of a strange man.

 

“Who are you and what do you want?”

 

“Hop Sing. I work for Mistah Ben. I worried about him. Come from Virginia City. Mistah Morgan ask me to.”

 

At the mention of Morgan Winters’ name, Dallas opened the window rather than opening the door. Hop Sing climbed in and shook Dallas’s hand. “You take good care of Mistah Ben and boys?”

 

“Yes, I think so. Right now I want to know how Mister Winters is.”

 

“He talk some. He write much. Here is note from him.”

 

Dear Dallas,

 

Though the Stroke left my left side paralyzed, I am now able to talk fairly well. Thank goodness that I am right-handed and can scribble a few words. The bearer of this note is Hop Sing, a man I trust implicitly to keep his mouth shut. Please trust him also. The Chinese are well-known for being privy to information wherever they live, and this holds true for the Chinese in Virginia City. If you need information that will help Ben, Hop Sing can find out a world of information that nobody knows about. He so desperately wants to help. If you have questions and need answers that Hop Sing doesn’t have, he has several cousins in Virginia City who can find out the answers and be secretive in telling Hop Sing. If I can help you in any way, let me know. Ben, I believe sincerely, is innocent of the charges brought against him. I will help gratis should you need me.

 

Sincerely,

 

Morgan Winters

 

“Is this true?” Dallas asked Hop Sing.

 

Hop Sing looked insulted. “Not understand question. Hop Sing not read note.”

 

So Dallas read it to him.

 

He nodded. “He say truth. You need? Hop Sing find out.”

 

“Please. Sit down. I really need to talk to you. I’ll pour us some tea.”

 

Hop Sing sat. “I see Mistah Ben soon?”

 

“Can you wait until the morning? There are several things I need to ask you about and there is one thing I want to show you. I think you can identify it from the sketch I made.”

 

The conversation lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Hop Sing slept on a pallet on the floor for two hours. Dallas got about the same amount of sleep in her tiny bed just off the office proper. By morning, both hurried over to the Hotel and went up the back stairs.

 

Jason stopped them at the door to the suite. “Who is this with you?”

 

Dallas smiled. “This is Hop Sing. He’s been the Cartwrights’ cook for a very long time. He’s worried about his ‘family’ so I brought him to show that everybody is all right.” Then she added, “I saw a robin this morning.” This was the password that Rex and his guards had decided on. It meant that everything was all right. If Dallas had said that she saw a crow, it would be a sign that there was trouble.

 

“Rosalita’s probably on her way with breakfast. Go on in.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

 

Dallas knocked on the door which was opened by a shirtless Adam. Dallas knew that he was a big man, not as big as Hoss, but still big and strong. His chest was covered by thick, curly black hair. The muscles in his arms were large and gave a big clue as to his strength. For a moment, Dallas was speechless. She was not immune to his good looks or to his Cupid’s-bow lips but this extra look at his body made her shiver.

 

“I…I…I have a surprise for all of you,” was all she was able to say.

 

Hop Sing, who could wait no longer, slipped past Dallas and into the suite. There was, at first, stunned silence. And then there were shouts of joy as each Cartwright hugged their Chinese cook and friend. Hoss actually picked him up and swung him around!

 

Now came Rosalita who, amid the noise, broke into a spate of Spanish. Dallas, in Spanish, reassured her that this was “happy noise” at the Cartwrights seeing Hop Sing. Finally Hop Sing extricated himself from Hoss’s bear hug and was introduced to Rosalita. She spoke a mixture of English and Spanish; Hop Sing spoke a mixture of English and Chinese.

 

Rosalita’s happy expression changed when she faced Dallas. “You went to ‘Chez Ami’ last night. Why you didn’t come to let Rosalita feed you?”

 

“Sweet Rosalita. ‘The Royal’ is always packed with people. I wanted for us to eat in a very quiet place so that we could talk. Miss Tidmore and Miss Franklin joined us. I had no idea that they would be there. You do understand, don’t you?”

 

Rosalita put down the tray and looked at Hop Sing, asking who he was. “He’s been working for the Cartwrights for many years. He’s part of their family now.”

 

Rosalita put her hands on her hips and poked out her bottom lip. “I guess you won’t be needing me any more.”

 

“Rosalita, as long as we’re here, we do need you. You and Hop Sing are both wonderful cooks, so I’m told. If you would allow it, sometimes Hop Sing could cook and, at other times, you could cook. We’ll have the best of both worlds that way.”

 

Hop Sing and Rosalita looked at each other for a short time. “Yes, that would work. Now eat before breakfast gets cold!”

 

Everybody ate in a hurry. The time spent greeting Hop Sing gave them less time before court began. When they were finished, Rosalita gathered the plates and whisked them away, forgetting to feed Jason. He wasn’t insulted and declared that he’d eat when the trial started up again. Hop Sing started to make his exit but was stopped by Ben. “Where are you going?”

 

“Hop Sing go back to Virginia City. Number Seven cousin watch house. Hop Sing now detective.” He giggled and fled. But he’d be back with some very interesting news.

 

Dallas, with the Cartwrights in tow, headed for the Courthouse. Her head was filled with questions.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

 

Judge Ellerbee was seated and the usual formalities were noted for the Record.

 

Dallas stood up. “Your Honor, before the Prosecution calls its next witness, I have a two more questions for Amos Bondurant. I’d like for him to take the stand.”

 

Ellerbee had had a bad night last night. He’d lost a lot of money playing poker. He was in a sour mood and grumpily called Amos to the stand and reminded him that he was still under oath.

 

Dallas got right to it. “Amos, you said in your statement to Sheriff Coffee and in your Deposition that was given to the Grand Jury and then again to me during the visit to the Bondurant ranch that you were not sure that your father was dead when you saw him lying on the steps. Is that what you said?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Yesterday, during your testimony, you stated that you knew he was dead when you first saw him. Which answer is correct?”

 

“Well, I didn’t know for sure that he was dead until I ran up to him and saw that he wasn’t breathing.”

 

“Is it true that your statements and Deposition reflected the fact that you could tell that the wound was made by a sharp instrument like a knife?”

 

“Yes’m.”

 

“But isn’t the truth the fact that dried blood hid the mark of the wound so you couldn’t tell what actually made the wound?”

 

“I was in shock. I just knew that my father was bleeding from his neck and that he was dead.”

 

“So your testimony about a knife being used is conjecture on your part.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Was there a puddle of blood on the steps where your father’s head was?”

 

“No.”

 

“You just said that your father was bleeding from his neck. Yet now you say there was no blood?”

 

“You’re confusing me. Maybe there was blood. I just don’t remember.”

 

“Do you remember seeing blood on your father’s shirt?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Isn’t it true that you told me, in front of Sheriff Coffee and Doctor Martin, that your father wasn’t wearing a shirt. That you thought he might’ve gone outside to work in the garden and liked the feel of the sun on his back?”

 

“I don’t remember saying that.” Amos was visibly shaking.

 

“Because you were in shock then. Is that what you’re saying now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You testified that you shook your father’s hands and arms to try to wake him up. Did you try really hard to do that?”

 

“Yes’m. I jiggled his hands and arm for a while but I couldn’t wake him up.”

 

“Are you still in shock?”

 

“Kind of. I’m mostly scared of talking in front of all these people.”

 

“Nothing further, Your Honor.” Dallas returned to her seat next to Ben and sat down.

 

Ellerbee boomed, “Step down, Amos. The Prosecution may call its next witness.:

 

William Coleman, after Amos was seated, called Roy Coffee.

 

Roy was sworn in, gave his name and said that he was the Sheriff in Virginia City. He sat down in the designated chair.

 

Coleman approached. “On the date in question, did Amos Bondurant ride into town and tell you that his father had been killed?”

 

“He did.”

 

“What time of day was that, approximately?”

 

“Oh, around eleven or twelve in the morning. It was sometime before noon because I was just leaving the office to go eat lunch.”

 

“What did you do when Amos told you about his father?”

 

“Amos and I ran to get Doctor Martin. Then we rode out to the Bondurant ranch as fast as we could.”

 

“And what did you find when you arrived there?”

 

“Marcus Bondurant’s lifeless body on the steps.”

 

“Did Doctor Martin examine the body? Did he agree that the victim was, indeed, dead?”

 

“He did.”

 

“Did he indicate the cause of death?”

 

“Yes. He said that Marcus died from a wound to his neck. That he had bled to death.”

 

“What did you do next?”

 

“I told Amos to get some clothes. The house had become a place that needed to be investigated and therefore untouched. Oh, I also told Amos to get a blanket to wrap his father in to be carried back to town.”

 

“What happened then?”

 

“I told him to get the horses out of the barn and let them loose to graze on their own. I told him to keep one to carry his father to town.”

 

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

 

“Your witness, Miz Montgomery.”

 

“Thank you, Your Honor. Good morning, Sheriff Coffee. I have just a few more questions for you. I know that you need to get back to Virginia City to resume your duties there, so I’ll try to be brief.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“How long have you been a sheriff, sir?”

 

Roy scratched his chin. “I guess it’s been nigh on to twenty years.”

 

“And during all those years, have you seen murder victims?”

 

“Yes, I have. Too many to count.”

 

“Do you agree with Doctor Martin that it appeared that Marcus Bondurant was the victim of a murder?”

 

“I agree completely.”

 

“Was there a lot of blood at the scene?”

 

“You know, that was kinda strange. For a man to have the wound that the victim displayed, there just wasn’t any blood at all. Highly remarkable, in fact. I’ve never seen a body that’s bled to death in the absence of blood around him.”

 

“As a sheriff with many years under your belt, what thought or thoughts went through your head?”

 

“That the body had been moved. Killed somewhere else and then moved once the bleeding had stopped. Or that somebody had cleaned up the blood that was there.”

 

“Objection! Move to strike the sheriff’s last statements!” Coleman’s face was red.

 

“Your Honor, I’m only bringing out the statements that were made at the Inquest. Sheriff Coffee, as a seasoned sheriff, is an expert witness. Therefore, his observations and his opinions must be allowed.”

 

“You are correct, Counsel. Objection overruled.”

 

“Sheriff Coffee,” Dallas continued, “you wrapped Marcus Bondurant’s body in a blanket and then put it over the back of a horse. Was this difficult?”

 

“Quite difficult. The body had stiffened at odd angles and was unwieldy.”

 

“But Amos testified that, before he went to town to get you, he shook his father’s hands and arms. Could rigor mortis have set in during the time Amos rode to town and then come back with you and the doctor?”

 

“In my experience, the answer would be ‘no’. But I bow to Doctor Martin’s expertise on that subject.”

 

“Thank you, Sheriff Coffee. I have no more questions for you at this time.”

 

“Step down,” boomed Ellerbee. “If we need to, we will re-call you. You are free to go back to Virginia City and resume your duties there.”

 

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Roy stepped down from the stand and left the building.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

 

“The Prosecution calls Doctor Paul Martin to the stand,” William announced.

 

The usual formalities were observed as Doc took the stand.

 

“Doctor Martin, you’ve heard the testimony given by Sheriff Coffee. Do you have anything to add?”

 

“I agree with everything that Sheriff Coffee had to say. I share his personal opinions.”

 

“What time do you estimate the time of death to be?”

 

“I would say between midnight and four o’clock in the morning.”

 

William Coleman grew pale. This was not the answer that he had been seeking, even though he had read the Inquest report. 

 

“Couldn’t it have been later in the morning?”

 

“The time of death is not an exact science. There’s always room for error. But I just gave you my medical opinion. That’s the best that I can give you.”

 

William Coleman took a moment as his head whirled. Judging by Dallas’s questions, if William asked too much more, then Dallas would take Doc’s answers and run with them. William wished that he had paid closer attention to all that paperwork that had been given to him. But, to him, the case was cut and dried. He was sure that Ben Cartwright had murdered Marcus Bondurant.

 

“Nothing further, Your Honor. Your witness, Miz Montgomery.”

 

Dallas almost flew out of her chair.

 

“Good morning, Doctor Martin.”

 

“Good morning to you, too.”

 

“How long have you been a physician?”

 

Doc chuckled. “Probably thirty years. A very long time.”

 

“During those years, you have seen more than your share of dead bodies. Is that true?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you have seen more than your share of murder victims. Is that true?”

 

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

 

“Have you ever seen a victim with wounds such as Marcus Bondurant’s?”

 

“I have. Quite a few, actually.”

 

“Have you ever seen such wounds with no pooling of blood around the victim’s neck?”

 

“Never. This is the first time.”

 

“The Plaintiff says that the wound was consistent with a slice by a knife blade. Do you agree?”

 

“I agree that it is a slicing-type wound made by a very sharp object. But Amos couldn’t have seen it at the time the Sheriff and I were there. Dried blood closes up and covers a wound. I didn’t get a good look until the autopsy.”

 

“Did you examine the victim’s hands?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Fist fights leave marks on the knuckles, don’t they?”

 

“They do. But I saw no such marks because there was blood on the victim’s hands, fronts and backs. Again, I didn’t get a good look until the autopsy.”

 

“Did you see a knife anywhere around?”

 

“Yes. It was close to the victim.”

 

“Did you look at it closely?”

 

“I did. I saw on it what appeared to be blood stains.”

 

“Could those stains be rust?”

 

“Perhaps. But to a trained eye, there is a difference. My professional opinion is that the stain was from blood.”

 

“Your Honor,” Dallas said as she turned, walked to her table, and pulled out a small box. “I would like to offer this into Evidence as Exhibit 7.”

 

“What is it?” Ellerbee asked.

 

“It’s the knife that Sheriff Coffee brought with him from Virginia City. It bears the initials ‘M.B.’ on the wooden handle.”

 

Ellerbee was becoming interested. Coleman slumped in his chair. 

 

“Please show this to Doctor Martin.”

 

Dallas opened the box so that the doctor could look inside. “Is this the knife that you saw close to Marcus Bondurant’s body?”

 

“It is. I saw Sheriff Coffee pick it up. I also saw it at the Inquest.”

 

“Describe this knife to the jury. They’ll be able to see it later.”

 

“The knife handle is about four inches long. It’s made of wood with the initials ‘M.B.’ burned into the wood. The silver blade is approximately seven inches long with no nicks in what appears to be a very sharp edge. On the blade is a stain of approximately one and one-half inches. It is reddish-brown in color.”

 

“Is the stain old or new?”

 

“I can’t tell. I’d have to wipe down the blade to see if the stain is easily removed.”

 

“Why haven’t you done that already?”

 

“Because it might destroy evidence.”

 

Dallas faced Ellerbee. “Defense Exhibit 7, Your Honor?”

 

“Done.”

 

Dallas very carefully picked up the lantern from where it was on Exhibit. She handled it only at the bottom and carried it to where the doctor was seated.

 

“I found this lantern on the porch at the Bondurant ranch. The members of the jury were with me at the time and saw me pick it up. There are stains on it. Can you tell if the stains are blood or rust?”

 

“I can’t say for sure. They’re smudged badly on the top of the lantern and on the handle. They appear to be bloodstains. The key word is ‘appear’.”

 

“Thank you.” Dallas returned the lantern to its place.

 

She faced Doc again. “How does a physician determine the time of death?”

 

“By rigor mortis and lividity.”

 

“Ahh,” sighed Dallas. “Big words. Would you explain them so that we can understand what they mean?”

 

“Of course. ‘Lividity’ is the pooling of blood after the heart stops beating. Blood left in the body settles to the lowest points of the body and causes bruising. The darker and more extensive the bruising, the longer it has been since the heart stopped beating. Lividity sets in about twenty minutes after death and lasts for six to twelve hours.”

 

Dallas interrupted. “Was lividity present at the time of autopsy?”

 

“It was. It extended from the neck all the way down the victim’s right side.”

 

“I’m confused. Amos Bondurant said he found his father lying face down on the steps. Wouldn’t the lividity have been on the front of his father rather than on the side?”

 

“Yes, you are correct.”

 

“Please continue, Doctor.” Dallas had her reasons for jumping around. “Please explain rigor mortis.”

 

Rigor mortis literally means ‘stiffness of death’. A dead person’s limbs will stiffen in three to four hours after death and will last for approximately seventy two hours.”

 

“Amos testified that he shook his father’s hands and jiggled his arms to try to wake him up. If rigor mortis had set in, would that have been possible?”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“If Amos had turned his father onto his back when he found him, would the lividity have moved?”

 

“No. It always stays where it has settled.”

 

“What was Marcus Bondurant wearing when you and the sheriff saw him.”

 

“He was wearing a pair of long britches, socks but no boots, and he didn’t have on a shirt.”

 

“Then, if he was upright at the time that the wound was inflicted, there would be blood on his chest. Is that true?”

 

“Yes, that’s true. There was no blood on his chest.”

 

“If he had sustained a wound on his neck, had fallen or fainted with his head lower than the rest of his body, then there would have been blood on his face.”

 

“Correct. There was none.”

 

“In your statement for the Inquest, you and Sheriff Coffee went on record about a few things. What were they?”

 

“We agreed that there had been some interference with the body. Either Marcus had been killed elsewhere and then put on the steps or somebody cleaned up the body and the immediate areas of all signs of blood or a fight.”

 

“Ben Cartwright had a knife wound on the palm of his hand, didn’t he?”

 

“He did. Not a deep wound but definitely a wound from a sharp object such as a knife. As soon as Amos told us that Ben was the last person to see Marcus alive, Sheriff Coffee brought Ben into town. I examined the wound and dressed it with an antiseptic and gauze.”

 

“Did you see any wounds that might have resulted from a physical altercation?”

 

“None at all. No cuts, no bruises, no scrapes.”

 

“At the inquest, you mentioned an unusual finding during your examination of the victim’s wound. Please explain that now.”

 

“I washed the wound and the surrounding area of the neck very clean. Because the edges of the wound had dried, the skin had separated enough to see it well. With a magnifying glass, I examined the wound itself. The edges were cleanly sliced through – in other words they weren’t jagged. But at the bottom of the slice, there were what I can describe only as ‘pock marks’. Deeper indentations into the skin that occurred at regular intervals. Much like the points on spurs. I’ve never seen anything of this nature before, so I have no explanation for it.”

 

“Do you believe that Ben Cartwright killed Marcus Bondurant?”

 

“I do not.”

 

“But you and the Defendant are good friends.”

 

“Yes, we are.”

 

“Would you lie to save his life?”

 

“I would not!” Doctor Martin looked highly insulted. “Nor would he lie for me if the shoe were on the other foot!”

 

“Thank you for your testimony. No more questions.”

 

Judge Ellerbee was fascinated. He hadn’t been exposed to such intelligent interrogation since his early days on the bench. He felt revived. He looked at William Coleman.

 

“Cross examine, Counselor?”

 

“No, Your Honor.” William had been put to shame and was well-aware of it.

 

Ellerbee spoke. “Doctor Martin, you may step down, and you’re free to return to Virginia City.” Then, “This Court is in recess for one hour. No, change that to two hours. Strike that. Today is Friday. This Court will reconvene at nine o’clock sharp on Monday morning. The jury is once again instructed not to discuss this case with each other or with anyone else. Brett Collins, if you put a single quote or a single innuendo in the newspaper, I will put you in jail for the duration of this trial.” With that, Ellerbee strode to his chambers. He began looking through his law books to make sure that Dallas was standing on solid ground.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

 

Outside the Courthouse, William Coleman stopped Dallas as she and the Cartwrights were walking away.

 

“I need to speak with you and Mister Cartwright.”

 

“About what?” Dallas had a feeling that she already knew but played innocent.

 

“I don’t want to go into it here on the street,” William said as he looked at the crowds of people pouring out of the building behind him. “Let’s meet in my office.”

 

“Let’s not. My office is closer.” 

 

Hoss looked at his brothers and then at Ben. He mouthed the word “alpha.” Joe snickered and drew a baleful look from William.

 

“Okay. Your office it is.”

 

“Adam, why don’t you and Hoss and Joe get us a table at The Royal? Your father and I will meet you there shortly.”

 

Adam nodded and headed toward the restaurant with his brothers. He had no idea why the Prosecutor wanted to speak with Dallas and Ben but it wouldn’t be long until he found out. 

 

Ben was pleasantly-surprised when he noticed that Dallas had to use her key to gain entrance into her office. She sat down behind her desk while Ben and William sat across from her.

 

“Now, Counselor, what’s on your mind?”

 

“A plea bargain,” William answered succinctly. 

 

“And what are the terms?”

 

“That the Defendant pleads guilty to a lesser charge of manslaughter.”

 

“That would mean a prison sentence of at least six years.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ben’s eyes popped out of his head, and his jaw dropped open.

 

Pretending to consider this option, Dallas made a pyramid with her hands and propped her chin on her fingertips. She spoke slowly. “The deal is on the table, Ben. The decision is yours to make.”

 

“Is it mandatory that I accept this deal?” 

 

“Absolutely not.” Dallas answered.

 

“I won’t take it!” Ben boomed, his dark eyes flashing.

 

William looked very uncomfortable. “I don’t understand. You won’t be charged with murder and therefore will not face the gallows. Six years isn’t that long – it’ll be over in no time.”

 

Fortunately, there was a distance between Ben’s chair and William’s chair. Ben’s arm shot out as though to grab William by the arm.

 

“Don’t do it!” Dallas warned. “William could sue you for assault and battery. He could also prove to the jury that you have a hair-trigger temper and are therefore capable of killing a man in the heat of anger.”

 

Ben’s arm dropped immediately. “I will take no deal. I didn’t have anything to do with Marcus’s death. The charge of ‘manslaughter’ is out of the question. I’d rather be hanged as an honest, innocent man than to be known as a coward who bargained for his life, despite the fact that I’m innocent.”

 

“That’s your final say in this matter. No more deals will be made,” said William as he rose and headed towards the door. He looked back at Dallas. “I had to try.”

 

Dallas answered with a sincere tone. “I know. You wouldn’t have been doing your job if you didn’t at least try.”

 

When the door closed, Ben sprang out of his chair and paced the floor. “Is what he proposed even legal?”

 

“It is. And I expected it. Now sit down and calm down. I don’t know whether you planned to hurt William or to grab him or to just knock his chair over, but you could’ve put yourself in a very bad situation. William could have asked for a whole boatload of money as restitution for Amos. But he didn’t. He does have some morals after all.”

 

“Why would he ask such a thing?”

 

“Because he knows he can’t prove his case. The only things that have been proven so far are that you and Marcus argued, a murder was committed, and Amos lied on the stand.”

 

Ben was beginning to settle down. “Why would Amos lie?”

 

Dallas’s brow furrowed. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. I haven’t come up with an answer except that Amos might have killed Marcus. I don’t think that’s the case. But he knows more than he’s telling. I can’t tell you exactly how I’m doing it, but I’m going to find out the truth of the matter. Hopefully very soon. In the meantime, keep a lid on your temper.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Okay. Let’s go see what Rosalita plans on feeding us today.”

 

“I’m not really hungry right now.”

 

“Well, you can join me and those three sons of yours and at least have a cup of coffee.”

 

The two of them made their exit from the office, and Ben smiled as Dallas paused to lock her door.

 

“Good for you,” Ben praised.

 

Dallas answered by rolling her eyes. But Ben’s gentle voice gave her goosebumps – in a very pleasant way.

 

Inside The Royal Diner, Joe looked again at the clock on the wall. Only ten minutes had passed.

 

Adam didn’t want to show it, but he was worried about what might be going on in Dallas’s office. Would his father have to be sent back to jail until the trial was over? Did William Coleman have evidence that hadn’t been introduced yet? Hoss was drumming his fingers on the table. He was worried also.

 

Ben and Dallas entered the restaurant with relaxed faces. Three sons breathed sighs of relief. Ben seated Dallas, waved at Dorothea and Madeline, and then sat down.

 

“What happened?” Adam almost demanded.

 

Dallas let Ben answer. “Coleman wanted a plea bargain. He wanted me to plead guilty to a lesser charge of manslaughter in exchange for a minimum of six years in prison.”

 

Hoss stood up so suddenly that he almost turned the table over. “I’ll wring his neck!”

 

Thankfully, the restaurant was very busy and the air was filled with so many voices that Hoss’s words couldn’t be heard.

 

“Sit down, Hoss!” Dallas hissed. “I can’t control you and your father at the same time!”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joe asked.

 

“There was a split second in my office when I was afraid that your father was going to do bodily harm to William. I stopped him but I don’t think he’s as calm as he appears. Hoss, you just made a threat in public. If anyone in here puts two and two together, they’re going to come up with the correct answer. How can I impress on all of you how absolutely imperative it is that you control yourselves?”

 

“Dallas is right, of course. I allowed myself to get caught up in the heat of the moment, and I shouldn’t have. And neither of you three should either.” Ben pointed at his three sons, one at a time.

 

Adam bit his toothpick in half. “What did you say to William? Can it be repeated?”

 

“I said ‘no deal’. Or words to that effect. Now let’s order something to eat.”

 

Dallas smirked. “Thought you weren’t hungry.”

 

“Well, I am now!” Ben countered.

 

“Thought you would be,” Dallas smirked again.

 

“Are you always right?” 

 

“I was wrong once, I think,” Dallas quipped.

 

Rosalita had seen Dallas and the Cartwrights sitting at the table with no food in front of them. She immediately began muttering in Spanish. Within seconds, four bowls of a very thick beef stew with fresh biscuits found their way to the table. Ben ate every bit of his stew plus three biscuits. Not bad for a man who had, just a few minutes ago, declared that he wasn’t hungry!

 

“Will you join us for supper tonight?” Ben asked.

 

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. I have testimony to go over while it’s still fresh in my mind. There are also some people I need to get statements from. I’ll be very busy over the weekend. But I do want to talk to each of you separately tomorrow. I won’t know the exact time so I’ll send my courier to find you.”

 

“Does that mean ‘no breakfast?” Hoss asked.

 

“Oh, Rosalita will still be bringing you breakfast if you would like. Tell me now so I can let her know. I won’t be eating with you during the weekend. I have a sneaky feeling that the Prosecution will rest its case on Monday. I have to be ready to call my witnesses and to get their statements. Ben, you wrote down a list of six names to subpoena. I expect that they’ll be arriving soon. I don’t coach my witnesses like William does, but I need to have some idea of what they’re going to say. I haven’t coached any of you. I don’t believe in it. A good attorney, with some digging, can elicit answers that are surprises to every witness, no matter how much coaching they’ve had.”

 

“Please tell Rosalita that we’ll be eating or breakfast in here,” Ben said. “I seem to notice that, although we’re being stared at, nobody looks at us with malevolence.”

 

“I’d bet money that Dorothea and Madeline had something to do with that. Their gossip is usually based on truth, even if they don’t take a liking to whomever is under the gun. You’ve presented yourselves as decent and honorable gentlemen, so that’s the word they’re spreading.” Dallas paused for a moment. “Since I won’t be with you in public during the weekend, please continue to conduct yourselves as gentlemen. Speak softly and gently, even if you find that somebody asks you insulting questions. Absolutely no physical altercations. If you are confronted by something that makes you furious, excuse yourselves politely and walk away. I’d rather hear that you are cowards than to find out that you’ve rearranged some idiot’s face!”

 

“Oh, I almost forgot! Ben, I’m going to need more money as a draw. Can you tend to that after lunch?”

 

“How much do you need?” Ben asked.

 

Dallas stated the amount.

 

Up went Ben’s eyebrows but his answer was in the affirmative. “I’ll tend to that immediately.”

 

“Thank you. Rest assured that the money is necessary. I’m not using it to buy clothing or furniture or any such niceties. It is all used in conjunction with this trial.”

 

Ben nodded. “Understood.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

 

Just as she had predicted, Saturday and Sunday were hectic days for Dallas. The names on her list grew by leaps and bounds. She had spent a long time asking Ben questions, refreshing her memory on quite a few things. The time spent with Adam, Hoss and Joe was much shorter. Thanks to Dorothea’s niece, Chey – the secretary and translator for the bigwig of the railroad – Dallas could interview the Chinn family. All the people on her subpoena list showed up – some would be “hostile witnesses” and some wouldn’t. On the door to her office, Dallas had written a sign that read: Deposition in progress. Please do not disturb.” Herman had been hired to write down everything that was said. But it was Hop Sing’s appearance, again late at night, that gave Dallas the most important information of all. Her instincts had been right – there was more to this trial than met the eye. Hop Sing kept out of sight by staying with “Cousin Number Three.” But he kept his eyes and ears open in the section where that cousin lived in case he could find out more things.

 

There was also one incident that surprised Dallas. Adam had arrived unexpectedly just as the sun was setting. No sign was on the door. When he knocked, Dallas opened the door and immediately asked if anything was wrong. Adam had smiled and shaken his head. “We all just miss you.”

 

“Come in, Adam. I just finished the dinner that Francine and Jacques sent me. Rosalita’s in a snit because of it. But, like always, she’ll get over it.”

 

Adam scrutinized Dallas. She was wearing jeans rolled up to the knees, a man’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and some kind of Chinese sandals that had fabric which fit between the big toe and the second toe. Dallas’s hair was down and hung a little longer than shoulder length. Behind one ear was a pencil, and her desk was full of papers.

 

Trying to figure out the strange look on Adam’s face, Dallas smiled. “No, I don’t take depositions dressed like this. These are my ‘relaxing’ clothes.”

 

“That’s not what I was thinking.” Adam sat on the corner of the big desk while Dallas sat in her chair. “I was thinking, except for your shoes, that you look like you’d be at home on a ranch. And I’ve never seen your hair down before.” He reached out his hand and felt its silkiness.

 

Dallas stood up, intending to put some distance between herself and Adam. There was a delightful tension in the air that she wanted to avoid. Adam stood and blocked her as he played with a lock of her hair. “We miss you,” he whispered.

 

Dallas saw Adam’s face slowly closing the gap between them. His eyes were half-closed. She felt her head tilt back to receive the kiss that she knew was coming. But, at the last minute, she turned her head and felt Adam’s lips brush her cheek.

 

“No?” he whispered.

 

“No,” she whispered back as she sidled past him. “Adam, you’re a handsome man. If I said I wasn’t attracted to you, I’d be a liar. But…”

 

“But it’s Pa, isn’t it?” Adam smiled.

 

Dallas’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t allowed herself to consider that thought very much because she was too busy with the trial.

 

“Adam, I don’t know. Honest, I don’t. But I’m not denying the fact that you might be right. Please don’t tell him this.”

 

“About the ‘kiss that wasn’t’,” Adam grinned slyly, “or about how you feel?”

 

“Both, I guess.” Dallas gathered the empty dishes, stacked them, and handed them to Adam. “Would you mind returning these to Francine? I’d really appreciate it.”

 

Adam knew that he was being dismissed in a most tactful way. The grin on his face was replaced by a genuine smile. “I’d be happy to.” He opened the door, looked back, and said, “Pa misses you. A lot!” Then he was gone. Dallas locked the door and hugged herself. Dare she hope?

 

CHAPTER FORTY

 

Monday morning found Dallas scurrying into the Cartwrights’ suite, a bundle of papers in her hands. “I’m ready for anything that the Prosecution throws at me,” she stated as she snatched up a plate of eggs and bacon. Rosalita had come and gone and the Cartwrights had almost finished eating.

 

“I don’t know what William has up his sleeve as far as who he’ll call to the stand, so I’m playing this by ear. If he should call any of you – which is doubtful – try to give only yes or no answers. If he tricks you into saying more, you’ll have to trust me to do damage control.”

 

Heads nodded to indicate understanding. It was time to head to the Courthouse.

 

As usual, Ben and Dallas took their seats at the Defense table. William and Amos sat at the Prosecution table. Adam, Hoss and Joe took their seats behind Dallas and Ben. In came the jury. The bailiff went through his usual formalities as Judge Ellerbee headed to the Bench.

 

Dallas’s jaw dropped open. Ellerbee was wearing a clean and pressed robe. Not only had he had a hair cut, but it was combed neatly. His face was washed and he was smiling! 

 

“Thank you,” he said to the standing people. “Please be seated.”

 

William and Dallas looked at each other, surprise written on their faces. The Judge had changed his appearance overnight!

 

William rose. “The Prosecution calls Gordon Nolan to the stand.” He was sworn in and sat down on the stand.

 

Dallas crossed this name off her list. William had actually paid attention to the names on her list and had chosen this man after interviewing him.

 

“Mister Nolan, do you know the Defendant?”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“Is he a friend of yours?”

 

“Certainly not!”

 

“And why is that?”

 

He sold me ten acres of land. I planned to grow crops on it. But greedy ole Cartwright sold me a pig in a poke.”

 

“How so is that?”

 

“Five acres of that ‘good land’ is under water at the time of the Spring that. It’s unusable at planting time. When I asked for my money back, he refused. He’s a cheat and a liar.”

 

With a delighted smile on his face, William turned to Dallas. “Cross examine, Counselor?”

 

“Indeed,” Dallas responded. “You say you purchased land from Mister Cartwright.”

 

“I did.”

 

Dallas shuffled through her papers until she found the one she wanted.

 

“Isn’t it true that you paid less money than the land was worth because Mister Cartwright informed you of the Spring flooding?”

 

“No, he never did.”

 

“Well, that’s rather odd. In the deed on the bill of sale, it specifically is stipulated that you were in full understanding of the flooding issue but you wanted that land and could work around the flooding problem. It also reflects Mister Cartwright’s acknowledgment that his asking price was based on the acreage that was arable all year ’round. The Defendant sold that property at less than it was worth according to the tax assessor’s notes.”

 

“That’s an outright lie! Lemme see that paper!”

 

Dallas handed it to him and watched his face fall. “I don’t remember this.”

 

“Is that your signature at the bottom of the document?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Your Honor, I offer this document into evidence as Exhibit 8.”

 

“Done,” said the Judge. “Does the Prosecution wish to cross-examine?”

 

“No. Mister Nolan may step down.”

 

Nolan angrily stomped out of the courtroom.

 

William tried his second witness who was duly sworn in. His name was Pete Yates.

 

“Mr. Yates, are you a friend of Ben Cartwright?”

 

“No.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“I was passing through the countryside. I didn’t know I was on Ponderosa property. Mister Cartwright ordered me off his land and pulled a gun on me. I ran for my life. He’s a mean man!”

 

William smirked. “Cross examine, Miz Montgomery?”

 

“Certainly. Mr. Yates, is it true that you camped on the Ponderosa for two days?”

 

“I don’t remember.”

 

“Let’s see if I can jog your memory. On the first day, Mister Cartwright found you – working a trap line on his property. He told you to leave at that time. Does that sound familiar?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“On the second day, you were caught by Mister Cartwright as you were pulling half-dead animals from your traps. They had to be destroyed to end their suffering. Is that not when the Defendant pulled a gun on you, allowed you to collect your traps and then ran you off his land?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Your Honor, I have here in my hand the report that Ben Cartwright made to Sheriff Coffee against Mister Yates. It states very clearly what happened. The report was made on the very day with the trouble with Mister Yates.”

 

“Your Honor, I would like to add this report as Exhibit 9.”

 

“Done. Re-cross, Mister Coleman?

 

William Coleman’s face was ashen. “The Prosecution calls Roger Humphrey to the stand.” The man was sworn in and seated.

 

“Sir, is it true that you were digging for gold on land that you believed to be open range?”

 

“Yes, indeed.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“The Cartwrights came riding up and told me that this was their property and that I was trespassing. They told me to gather my equipment and get gone.”

 

“And did you ‘get gone’?”

 

“Well, I mighta hung around a bit. I knew there had to be gold there…”

 

“And did the Cartwrights return?”

 

“Only the father. He was furious and hollered at me and told me to get off his land right then.”

 

“And did you?”

 

“We had a fight first. He broke my nose. Then I left. He’s a greedy man.”

 

William turned to Dallas. “Cross examine?”

 

“Yes, thank you. Mister Humphrey, you say you think you hung around ‘a bit’. How long a time is ‘a bit’?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe a few hours.”

 

“Did it take that long to gather your equipment?”

 

“Well, no. I sank another coupla test pits first. I found some gold.”

 

“When the Defendant returned, he was angry?”

 

“Furious!”

 

“I have, in my hand, a statement made to both the sheriff and to Doctor Martin. It was filed by Mister Cartwright on that day. It states here that you hit Mister Cartwright with an iron pipe, severely bruising his arm. Did you hit him with a piece of iron pipe before or after your nose was broken?”

 

“I don’t recall.”

 

“It also says here that, in self-defense, Mister Cartwright grabbed the pipe and punched you in the face. There is no mention of a broken nose.”

 

“Well, it weren’t broken bad.”

 

“Did you gather your equipment and leave?”

 

“Yes. I was afraid for my life.”

 

“Were you allowed to take the gold that you found?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No further questions, Your Honor. But I’d like to submit this document written by Sheriff Coffee and signed by Doctor Adams as Exhibit 10.”

 

“Done. Cross-examine?” William shook his head. “No, Your Honor. The Prosecution rests.”

 

Dallas stood up. “We are ready to proceed with the case for the Defense.”

 

“Proceed.” Ellerbee was enjoying this trial.

 

“I call to the stand Mister Sonny Miller.”

 

An elderly black man limped to the stand and was sworn in.

 

“Mister Miller, are you a friend of Ben Cartwright’s?”

 

“Yes, ma’am. At least I hope he considers me a friend. He’s a good man.”

 

“What makes you say that he’s a ‘good man’?”

 

“It’s kind of a long story.”

 

“Take your time. We want to hear what you have to say.”

 

“I come to Virginia City more’n fifteen years ago. I was a runaway slave, but I was good with horses. I had me a dream of opening a livery stable. I can shoe horses quicker than anybody I know. I keep ’em brushed and clean and well-fed and watered several times a day. But I needed money to build the stable and get the supplies I needed. Nobody would lend me money. Not even the banks.”

 

“Why do you think that was?”

 

“Because I wore raggedy clothes. I had no collateral. And my skin is black.”

 

“What did you do then?”

 

“Mister Cartwright was at one of the banks and heard that I couldn’t get a loan. He told me to come to the Ponderosa and we’d discuss a loan from him personally.”

 

“And did you go to the Ponderosa?”

 

Sonny smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I did. I was afraid, but I went anyway.”

 

“Why were you afraid?”

 

“Ma’am, I was a runaway slave. I could’ve been shot.”

 

“But you weren’t?”

 

“I wasn’t. Mister Ben, he sat me down at his big table and fed me good. First time I’d eat in two days. Then we talked about the livery stable, how big it would be, where a good location would be. Mister Hoss took me outside and had me show him that I could shoe a horse. He gave me one with a real mean streak, but I got shoes on him anyway. I didn’t hurt the horse none in the process. Mister Hoss, he told me that I done a real good job. When we went back in the house, Mister Adam was already drawing his idea of what the livery stable would look like. And it weren’t no teensy shack, neither! There was a place to store wagons and buggies, a big hayloft, and fourteen stalls for the horses. There was a place for the fire, the bellows, and the hammer and anvil.” Sonny stopped for a moment to get his emotions under control.

 

“Continue when you’re ready,” Dallas said gently.

 

“Mister Ben, he aksed me did I have any money at all. I told him that I had only three dollars in my pocket. Then he and Mister Adam wrote down a whole bunch of numbers. They told me how much my dream would cost. It was a lot of money, and I had to tell them that there was no way that I could get my hands on even a little bit of that. Mister Ben looked me in the eye for a minute and then went somewhere in the house and came back with a whole wad of money in his hands. I ain’t never seed that much money before! And he gave it to me!”

 

“And what did he ask for in return?”

 

“He aksed for one quarter of one percent of what I made.”

 

“Do you really mean that he asked for one and one quarter percent?”

 

“No, ma’am. It’s just like I said.”

 

“And in what time period was this loan to be paid back?”

 

“In ten years.”

 

“Why do you think he took such a chance on you?”

 

“He said he could tell an honest face when he saw one. He said that Virginia City needed a livery stable run by a man who knew horses.”

 

“So you took the money and built the livery stable.”

 

“Yes, ma’am, I did. But Mister Ben and his sons were in town every day, hauling lumber, hammers, nails and other things. Mister Adam made sure that we built it right. Mister Hoss and Mister Joe, they helped build that livery stable. Even Mister Ben helped.”

 

“And did your livery stable make money?”

 

“It was kinda slow at first. But then business picked up real good, bit by bit.”

 

“Did you pay Mister Cartwright the money you owed for the loan?”

 

Sonny sat up proudly. “I did indeed. It only took me two years. Mister Ben is a good man. He believed in me and, even when I thought I was too tired to go on, I didn’t want to let him down. He never came after me asking for money. When I had money, I gave it to him bit by bit.”

 

“And do you have the deed showing that the loan was satisfied?”

 

“I don’t understand the question.”

 

“Do you now have the deed that shows you paid Mister Cartwright in full?”

 

“I have a piece of paper with a lot of writing on it. I can’t read, but I can do my numbers.”

 

“Your Honor, I submit – as Exhibit 11 – a deed to Miller Livery Stable showing that the loan for the stable, provided by Ben Cartwright as lien holder, was completely satisfied. The date is on there and is signed by Ben Cartwright. There’s an ‘X’ on the line where Sonny made his mark.”

 

“Done. Do you have more questions for Mister Miller?”

 

“No, Your Honor. I have no more questions.”

 

“Mister Coleman, do you want to cross-examine?”

 

William sighed. “No questions, Your Honor.”

 

Ellerbee looked at Sonny and thanked him for his testimony. “You may step down now. And this Court will now take an hour’s recess!” The gavel went bang and Sonny stopped to shake Ben’s hand. I know you ain’t killed nobody,” he said. “I pray for you ever’ night.”

 

“Thank you, Sonny. I appreciate that.”

 

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

 

After the recess, Judge Ellerbee took his place with the usual formalities. He appeared to have learned how to use a napkin because there were no stains on his face or robe.

 

Dallas rose. “The Defense calls Pablo Martinez to the stand.”

 

After the usual formalities, Dallas began her questioning.

 

“Mister Martinez, do you consider Ben Cartwright to be a friend.”

 

“He is a good friend to me and my family for many years. He is a friend to everybody.”

 

“What is it about him that makes him a good friend to you and your family?”

 

“My wife and I own small restaurant. We serve Mexican food because we are, as you see, Mexicans ourselves. Our business was good until very bad winter that killed lot of cattle. The price of beef was too high and we could not buy any beef. Mister Ben, he come into our place one day and wanted steak fajitas. We could not serve him that. He wanted to know why that was. I told him that I could not afford to pay so much money. He ate frijoles and beans and chimichangas with cheese. That was all we could serve him. He smiled at us and said he knew where we could get beef for free. I think this is joke. But not joke! He say to come to Ponderosa and get what we need. So I go to Ponderosa. Mister Ben take me to place where cattle are and tell me pick which ones I want. I not greedy, so I pick one skinny one. Mister Ben look at me and shake head. He hold up four fingers and say to get good ones. I feel bad in choosing, but I have five children and wife to feed. Customers too. So I pick four which look best. Mister Ben not bat an eye. He help herd them to house, help butcher them. The weather was very cold. When people hear I have beef, they come running to eat. If not for Mister Ben, we would starve. But we did not starve. He asked for no money. He just gave even when he lose so much cattle himself. That is the way he is. A good man. A kind man. A generous man. When another son be borned, I name him ‘Benjamin’. He call Mister Ben ‘Uncle’. Mister Ben, he smile big at this! Mister Ben never kill Mister Bondurant. Not ever!”

 

Dallas deliberately kept quiet for a moment so that Pablo’s words would sink in. Then she thanked him for telling his story.

 

“Nothing further, Your Honor. Thank you, Pablo.”

 

Ellerbee looked at Pablo and then at William Coleman. “Cross-examine?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“Mister Martinez, thank you for your testimony. You may step down now.” Ellerbee was beginning to like Dallas’s legal tactics more and more.

 

“The Defense calls Mister Wayra Black Eagle to the stand.” 

 

He was sworn in and was seated. His shiny black hair was drawn back with a leather thong. But he was wearing the clothing of a born-and-bred cowboy. 

 

Dallas began. “Mister Black Eagle, you are a member of the Apache tribe, are you not?”

 

“I am.”

 

“And you work for Mister Cartwright presently?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Tell me how that came about.”

 

In perfect English, Black Eagle began his story.

 

“I was arrested and thrown into prison for killing my father. I was only sixteen at the time. My father was a very abusive man and we were banned from living with my people. We lived on the outskirts of a white man’s town. One night, my father got drunk and beat my mother so badly that she had broken bones in her arm and in her hand. I picked up my knife and I killed him. When the sheriff heard about this, he locked me up. There was no jury – only a judge. He wasn’t interested in what I had to say. He wasn’t interested in anything except to sentence me to prison for life.” Pause. “Mister Cartwright was on the Prison Board Committee during the time that I was incarcerated. As luck would have it, in order to show that the prisoners were well-treated, the warden of the prison let us put on a show for the visiting committee. Because I learned to ride when I was very young, I was one of the best riders and put on a good show. Afterward, I was locked up again. Apparently Mister Cartwright liked what he saw because he asked the warden to bring me up to the office so that we could talk. He asked me why I was so young and in prison, so I told him. He listened to my story – he really listened. But I was foolish and was rude to this fine man.” Another pause. “To make a long story short, I found out that Mister Cartwright had written a letter to the judge, appealing my conviction. I was released from prison because of that letter. But I had no place to go. I wasn’t allowed to return to my tribe. It’s very difficult for an Indian to find work in the white man’s world – especially an Indian who killed his own father and had been in prison for ten years. I sought out Mister Cartwright and asked him for a job. That was one year ago. He remembered me and said he could use a good man to break horses for him. But I had to prove that I could do it. And I did. I rode every bronc that he gave me. He told me that I was hired and sealed the deal with a handshake. I learned later on that his handshake and his word were his legal bond – he always keeps his word because he is a man of honor. When the other ranch hands taunted me, he threatened to fire them. Some were fired. But I have learned that the white man can be trusted and there have been great changes in my attitude. When I changed for the better – as Mister Cartwright told me many times – the people around me changed for the better, too. I would gladly lay down my life for this man rather than see him convicted for something he didn’t do – couldn’t do.”

 

Dallas bowed her head slightly and blinked hard. “Thank you very much, Wayra Black Eagle. I have no questions.”

 

Ellerbee looked at William Coleman. Cross-examine?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“You may step down, Mister Black Eagle. The Court wishes to thank you for your testimony. Perhaps we’ve all learned something today from the telling of your story.”

 

Wayra Black Eagle walked straight to Ben and clasped his arm. “I will pray to my god and to your God that the men on the jury reach the correct verdict of ‘Not Guilty’.”

 

“Thank you, Wayra.” Ben could say no more.

 

Ellerbee broke the silence. “This Court is adjourned until tomorrow at nine in the morning.” He rushed out of the courtroom and sat down in his chambers. And he wept softly. Three different men, three different ethnicities, and three different situations – all of these men were helped by one man: Ben Cartwright.

 

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

 

Dallas was slow in getting her papers off the Defense table and the look on her face was odd.

 

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked, concern showing on his face.

 

Everybody had left the building by now, so Adam, Hoss and Joe stood around the table.

 

“I shot myself in the foot,” Dallas said sadly.

 

“What does that mean? I thought everything went very well!” Joe said, not understanding.

 

“That’s the problem. Everything went too well. Your father, for all intents and purposes, has now become ‘Saint Benjamin’. He’s too perfect. He’s not ‘human’. He is all things to all people and, the next thing we know, he’ll be walking on water.” Dallas sighed unhappily.

 

“I didn’t get that impression,” Adam countered.

 

“And you’re not an attorney!” Dallas snapped. “I’ve left the door wide open for William to dig up dirt on your father these last two days – things I don’t know about, things that your father and I haven’t discussed. I was lucky that Gordon Nolan, Pete Yates and Roger Humphrey were on my list. I knew just what to ask. But I don’t have time to go back into your father’s life to show that he has human foibles, just like the rest of us. Ben, I’m going to have to play two roles when I question you: one will be the Devil’s Advocate and the other will be your defender. I don’t think you’re going to be happy with how I handle things.”

 

“Just do your best,” Ben said gently, touching Dallas’s shoulder lightly.

 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my office. I won’t see any of you until tomorrow in court. I’ll eat breakfast in my office. I have to get my head in the right place before we start in the morning. Now, I’ve really got to leave.” 

 

Dallas gathered all her paperwork, slipped by the startled Cartwrights and headed out the door. She actually looked afraid…

 

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

 

Nobody missed Dallas at breakfast more than Ben, though he tried to seem upbeat and positive. Adam, Hoss and Joe made small talk until it was time to go to the Courthouse.

 

Judge Ellerbee once again had an unwrinkled, untattered robe on. He had combed his hair. His eyes were bright. After the usual formalities, he took the Bench and looked at Dallas. She had dark circles under her eyes – she looked like she hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. In fact, she hadn’t.

 

“Miz Montgomery, are you ready?” Ellerbee asked.

 

“I am. I call Ben Cartwright to the stand.”

 

Ben was sworn in and took his seat.

 

Dallas paced, then turned in a whirl. “Mister Cartwright? Are you human?”

 

Ben looked confused. So did Ellerbee and William Coleman.

 

“I don’t understand the question,” Ben replied.

 

“Those were fine character witnesses on your behalf yesterday. They had many good things to say about you. It seems that you should be wearing a halo and wings according to what they said.”

 

“Move to strike, Your Honor!” William had jumped up.

 

Judge Ellerbee stared at Dallas. “You’re being hostile to your own client! Objection sustained!”

 

“Mister Cartwright, have you ever told a lie in your life.”

 

“Of course I have. Everybody has told lies in their lives.”

 

“’Everybody’ is not on trial here. You are! How many lies have you told in your life?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“More than fifty?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Less than fifty?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Did you kill Marcus Bondurant?”

 

“I did not.”

 

“Are you telling me a lie now?”

 

“I am not!”

 

Have you ever been in a physical fight using your fists?”

 

“Yes, I have.”

 

“Did you start any fights?”

 

“I don’t know for sure. Probably.”

 

“Did you hurt anyone physically during a fight?”

 

“If I was fighting, then I was trying to hurt somebody.”

 

“How many fights have you been involved in?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“More than fifty?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Less than twenty?”

 

“Probably more than that.”

 

“And did your temper cause you to start any of these fights?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did your temper cause you to kill Marcus Bondurant?”

 

“No! I didn’t kill Marcus.”

 

“So you say…” Dallas turned away from Ben and found herself looking at Ben’s three sons. They were not happy with this line of questioning.

 

Dallas turned back to Ben. “Have you ever killed a man?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“With your fists?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“With a gun?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Under what circumstances did you use your fists or your gun to kill someone.”

 

“I was defending either myself, my sons, or the Ponderosa.”

 

“Did you ever not fight a man in the heat of temper, think about it later, and go back and take his life?”

 

“No! Are you talking about premeditated murder?”

 

“Mister Cartwright. You don’t ask me questions. I ask them of you!

 

“Objection. Counsel is badgering the witness.” Coleman looked gleeful.

 

“Sustained. Miz Montgomery, would you like to take a moment to compose yourself?”

 

“I’m quite composed, Your Honor. With your permission, I will continue.”

 

Ellerbee looked at Dallas. “Fine. But you can’t badger your own witness.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

Dallas changed tactics – not because of the Judge’s admonition but because she was ready to do so on her own.

 

“So you’re human after all. You have lied, you have fought, and you’ve killed. But you appear to be in the good graces of at least some of the citizens of Virginia City. You’re on the School Board. You’re the Head of the Cattlemen’s Association. You have more money in the bank than anyone else. You’re a wealthy man. How did you become so wealthy?”

 

“By hard work. By physical labor. I don’t ask my sons or any of my ranch hands to do something that I, myself, won’t do. I started my life at the Ponderosa with little money. I bought a few of the best cattle and horses that I could afford. The ranch began to grow because other people helped me. That’s a reason to offer a helping hand to other people. My first timber contract was a nightmare, but I managed to learn from it and come out on the good end of the deal. I invested my money wisely and used some of it to expand what land I owned.”

 

“Did you have to kill anyone in order to keep what you had?”

 

“No, but I had to fight by whatever means to defend it.”

 

“So, you don’t walk on water?”

 

William rose to object. But Dallas quickly stated that she withdrew the question.

 

Dallas changed tactics again. “Do you still fight with your fists?”

 

“On occasion.”

 

“Did you have a physical altercation with Marcus Bondurant?”

 

“No. But we came close. I left before things got to that point.”

 

“Did you go back and kill Mister Bondurant?”

 

“Absolutely not!”

 

“It would appear that you have an honest streak running through your veins. Why is that?”

 

Ben thought for a moment and then looked at Adam, Hoss and Joe. “Because of my sons.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Children learn by what they see and what they hear. I wanted to set a good example for my sons, so I had to be aware of what I said and did. I had to mean what I said. And I had to say what I meant.”

 

“So your sons never lied or got into fights as they were growing up?”

 

Ben almost laughed. “Oh, yes they did!”

 

“How did you handle that?”

 

“By telling them that they would forever have bad reputations – that nobody would ever believe them. I told them that I did not intend on raising three bullies who thought that fighting was the answer to everything. Sometimes it takes more to be a man and walk away from a fight than it takes to do the actual fighting. I promised them, as long as they told the truth, that they would still be punished, but that the punishment would be less than if they lied. We had several trips to the woodshed before that concept hit home. I taught them that my word was my bond. And they learned that their word is their bond. If one tells the truth all the time, then one doesn’t get confused when having to repeat it. A person who lies will get confused every time because that person doesn’t remember what lie he told to begin with.”

 

“Your Honor, I have more questions, but it’s time for lunch. I request a recess and then to resume in an hour.”

 

“Granted. Everybody be back in one hour.” Ellerbee left the Bench and headed to his chambers. He couldn’t figure out what Dallas had up her sleeve but he couldn’t wait to hear more from her.

 

When the courtroom emptied, Dallas sank into her chair. “I’m sorry, Ben.:

 

“About what? ‘Badgering’ me?”

 

She nodded her head. “I hated doing that, but I had to. We’ll have to wait and see if Coleman has anything to say on cross-examination. I hope that I took away any ammunition that he might have.”

 

Adam grinned. “You’ve managed to do it so far.”

 

“So far. Now go on and eat lunch. Herman and I are sharing lunch while going over what’s been said. I may have left something out.”

 

Joe giggled. “You didn’t mention cheating.”

 

Dallas looked at Ben. “Do you cheat folks?”

 

Ben gave a low chuckle. “Only when I’m bluffing at poker.”

 

Dallas shook her head with a smile tugging at her lips. Ben wasn’t mad at her! And neither were Adam, Hoss or Joe. “Go eat!”

 

“Yes, ma’am!” four voices replied in unison.

 

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

 

Court was now back in session. Ben had taken the stand, and Dallas had begun her questioning.

 

“Amos Bondurant testified that his father and you didn’t always disagree. Is that true?”

 

“Yes.

 

“When did things between the two of you change?”

 

“It started, I think, on the day that Marcus was panning for gold.”

 

“On your side of Red Fern Creek?”

 

“No. The creek was on his side.”

 

“Other than the water itself having moved, what proof did either of you have as to where the land was marked?”

 

“The surveyor drove a large iron pipe into the ground in late summer about five years ago when Marcus bought that parcel of land. It has stayed in its place almost all the time since then.”

 

“What if the creek flooded so bad that the marker washed away?”

 

“That’s happened. We just have the surveyor come out and perform another survey.”

 

“How do you know if it’s correct?”

 

“The surveyor uses a scientific method known as ‘triangulation’. By looking at the stakes on either my land or on Marcus’s land, measuring the distances there, it can be ascertained where the creek marker is supposed to be.”

 

“Is Red Fern Creek a little creek or is it more of a river?”

 

“It’s a cross between the two. Except during the Spring when the snow melts. Then it’s more of a river.”

 

“Okay, so now you find Mister Bondurant panning for gold on what is his land because the creek has moved. Did he find gold?”

 

“A very small amount. But he was very excited. He panned for gold for several years, perfectly content to find what he could no matter if the creek was on my side or his.”

 

“Didn’t you mind that?”

 

“No. The gold he found was so small and made him so happy. I had no desire to go into the gold-mining business for myself. Keeping the Ponderosa going takes all my time.”

 

“So why was there an argument?”

 

“He very suddenly became interested in mining. He had drilled some test holes into the outcropping of rocks that runs very near the creek. It showed more gold. He found a good-sized nugget which he showed me with great delight. He was adamant about wanting to buy my side of Red Fern Creek.”

 

“Why didn’t you sell?”

 

“Because the mining operation he wanted to implement would entail clear-cutting and hydraulic mining.”

 

“Explain to me what ‘clear cutting’ is.”

 

“Clear cutting involves clearing an area of trees, regardless of their size or of their possible usefulness. The scrub brush is burned in large piles.”

 

“What’s so bad about that. You said earlier that you had timber contracts so you obviously cut down your own trees. Why should it bother you if Marcus did the same thing?”

 

“I am selective as to which trees can be cut and in which area they can be cut. You see, trees and shrubs and grass hold the soil in place and stop erosion of the land. They also help trap and retain water. I never cut whole acres of trees down and leave nothing but loose dirt behind. And, for every tree that’s cut, I plant a new seedling to replace the tree that is gone. Burning the shrubs and brush in huge piles causes a smoky haze over the area, sometimes for several days. The very air that we breathe is tainted. And then the logging roads leave scars on the land that make take years before they disappear.”

 

“Don’t you have logging roads?”

 

“Yes, I do. But, when the logging is done, we plant more seedlings and sow grass seed to hide the tracks left by the loggers.”

 

“I see that’s important. But it can be fixed. What’s ‘hydraulic mining?”

 

“A scourge on the land! In a nutshell, water under very high pressure, is aimed at cliff areas. The pressure of the water causes the rocks to crumble and to expose gravel layers, behind which one can often find large deposits of gold. Miners have used this process to expose those gravel layers covering larger and larger areas very quickly. The more gravel that can be processed, the more gold that can be found.”

 

“Can you expound on this a little more? I’m not sure that I see all the negative possibilities of hydraulic mining.”

 

“In this case, water would be directed from the waterfalls at Red Fern Creek through a large canvas hose and then out through a giant nozzle. The very high pressure of the stream through the hose washes away entire hillsides and then runs downhill into the streams and the aquifers of neighboring towns. It ruins the quality of the water. Then there’s the fact that, wherever there is hydraulic mining, there are hundreds of workers who live in the area. Unsanitary conditions prevail. Everything runs downhill. It is now a medical fact that typhoid fever and cholera – and probably other afflictions – run rampant in towns that use the aquifer for their source of drinking water. And we all know that typhoid fever or cholera can wipe out whole towns within a short amount of time.”

 

“Objection, Your Honor! The witness is not a physician and is therefore speculating!”

 

“Counselor?” Ellerbee looked at Dallas.

 

“I have a medical book here, Your Honor. The very newest edition which I borrowed from Doctor Trevor Davis here in Carson City. He underlined specific medical facts about typhoid fever and cholera. I can read those passages to you or I can call Doctor Davis as a witness. Which would you prefer?” Dallas’s voice was challenging. Ellerbee intuited that she knew she was on firm ground.

 

“Go ahead and read what Doctor Davis has marked,” the judge said after a moment’s thought.

 

“I object!” William hollered. “Miz Montgomery can make up anything she likes and can therefore pretend that’s what she’s reading!”

 

“Very well, Counselor. I’ll read from the medical book. You will take my words for the truth, won’t you?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” William Coleman was not happy but he could do nothing.

 

Dallas handed Judge Ellerbee the book with the passages marked by a ribbon. Ellerbee then read aloud from the book while Herman kept on writing down every word. Dallas stood quietly while the judge read. William ran his hands through his hair. He was afraid of what would come next.

 

The book was handed back to Dallas but not before Judge Ellerbee asked William if he’d like to read the passages himself. William blushed to the roots of his hair and declined.

 

Dallas put the medical book on her table. Then she turned to face Ben.

 

“Would this tainted water affect Virginia City’s aquifer?”

 

“Most certainly. And Carson City and Reno as well.”

 

“So you were trying to protect the land and the towns by not selling your land to Mister Bondurant. Is that right, Mister Cartwright?”

 

“Yes. That’s exactly what I had in mind. But I was almost too late. Marcus had already hired a company to begin almost immediately. The name of the company is ‘Gold Mining, Incorporated’ out of San Francisco and is run by a man named Eugene Hamby. Marcus told me that nearly fifty Chinese workmen were hired to do the job. The foreman’s name is Marshall Akers. That’s what Marcus told me the day before he died. That’s what we were arguing about so vehemently.”

 

“Objection Your Honor. Hearsay!” William was almost chortling.

 

Judge Ellerbee glared but ruled. “Objection sustained. Strike that from the record.”

 

Dallas frowned. In order to subpoena Hamby and Akers, she’d have to wire them. Then they’d have to travel to Carson City from San Francisco – a trip which would just make the trial take longer. She made a judgment call.

 

“You and Mister Bondurant argued vehemently on his method of mining. Is that correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Fisticuffs were never involved?”

 

“No. It was my choice to leave and to try to think of a way I could get the mining at least slowed down some before it started. Marcus told me that he would sue me. I told him that it would make me very happy to see him in court.”

 

“Objection! Hearsay!” William was on his feet again.

 

“I’ll allow it,” Ellerbee answered. “You’re overruled, Counselor.”

 

The hands of the clock showed that the hour was growing later than usual. Ellerbee stood and announced that this was the ending of the day’s proceedings. Court would reconvene the next day at the usual time. William stomped out the door, practically dragging Amos with him – even before the people in the gallery could leave.

 

Dallas used her oft-worded phrase. “That went well, don’t you think?”

 

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

 

Ben looked at Dallas, his eyes soft. “We didn’t have the pleasure of your company at dinner last night or for breakfast this morning either. Please come dine with us tonight.”

 

“Ben, I just can’t! I have only a few more things to wrap up and then I have my Closing Argument to work on. Forgive me, but we’re so close to the end of the trial.”

 

Ben felt bitter disappointment but tried not to let it show. He knew that he had strong feelings for Dallas but had no idea if she had the same feelings for him. “Maybe tomorrow night, then?”

 

“That all depends on how much I get done tonight,” Dallas responded, her eyes searching Ben’s for a sign of…what?

 

“Try to get some sleep tonight,” Ben added as he steered Dallas to her office. “I worry about you. We worry about you.”

 

“I’ll try. But don’t be worried. I’ll be fine.”

 

Famous last words. That night, with the window open to allow the light breeze to cool the office, Dallas felt as though she were being watched. Swiftly through the window came a silver object, sharp with points at regular intervals. The object imbedded itself in her shoulder. Had she not turned her body at a fortuitous moment, the object would have landed squarely in her neck! There was a rustling of the bushes outside the window, but Dallas couldn’t see the fleeing figure. 

 

Then she pulled the object from her shoulder – it was a painful thing – but she smiled. She had been right several days ago! Off she sped to Doctor Davis’s office to have the wound tended to. She showed the object to the doctor, but he didn’t know what it was. She made him pull her wound open and sketch what he saw there. Then she went to the Hotel.

 

Hoss opened the door and drew back in surprise when he saw the blood on Dallas’s blouse. “Pa!” he shouted. “It’s Dallas and she’s hurt!”

 

In an instant, all four Cartwrights were gathered around the wounded attorney. Ben’s arm, strong and protective, guided her to the sofa. Adam brought brandy. Hoss brought a wet cloth and draped it across Dallas’s pale forehead. Joe brought a blanket.

 

“Joseph, get the doctor,” Ben said quietly.

 

“I’ve seen the doctor already!” Dallas protested. “He’s already put stitches in my shoulder and says I’ll be fine. I guess it looks worse than it is. I came straight here afterwards.”

 

“Pa,” Hoss said. “Somebody’s after Dallas. But why?”

 

Dallas smiled. “Because I’m on the right trail of evidence. I know too much. That’s why I got hurt and Ben didn’t!” She took a big sip of brandy. “Here’s the weapon. I am quite sure what it is. Have you seen anything like it before? Doctor Davis drew a picture of my wound. See? It’s a slice like a knife would make but, at the bottom, there are regularly-spaced deeper wounds. Where have you heard a description like that before?”

 

“Doc Martin described Marcus’s wound like that.” Adam looked at the picture that Doctor Davis had drawn. “It would appear that your wound and Marcus’s wound were made by similar objects. What are they?”

 

“I can’t tell you right now. But I’m pretty sure that I already know. I need to be able to prove it before I bring it up in court. Right now, I need to go back to the office. I still have work to do and, if I drink any more brandy, I’ll be too light-headed to get anything done.”

 

Ben, who had been brought to Carson City without his gun, spoke in his no-nonsense voice. “I’m going with you. Adam, give me your gun.”

 

Adam shook his head. Ben repeated his request. “No, Pa. I’ll need it. I’m going with you!”

 

“But Ben’s life may be in danger!” Dallas protested.

 

“My life is already on the line for murder. If we don’t prevail in the trial, I’ll end up dead anyway.”

 

“We’ll all go with you,” Joe interrupted.

 

“Then I’ll never get any work done!” Dallas was feeling embarrassed at all this fuss. But she hadn’t lost her feistiness.

 

“Joe, you and Hoss stay here. Keep a watchful eye out the window so you can see the office. You two have guns. If you spot anything unusual, fire two shots in the air. We haven’t had a guard outside our door for two days, so neither of you will get shot by a guard by accident.”

 

“Dallas, are you feeling well enough to walk?” Ben’s face showed great concern.

 

“Don’t be silly. I’m just fine. It’s just a cut.” Dallas stood up and immediately fainted.

 

Ben scooped her up into his arms and headed toward the door. Adam, gun in hand, was already looking down the hall. “All clear,” he whispered.

 

Halfway to Dallas’s office, she woke up and found herself staring into Ben’s face. What a kind, gentle, handsome face. And what strong arms I’ve found myself in. Under any other circumstances, I’d feel…loved?

 

Evil eyes saw her in Ben’s arms while she was still passed out. Her body was limp. Good! Maybe I killed her after all! But those same eyes saw her stir in Ben’s arms, watched as Adam scrutinized everywhere up and down the street. The owner of the evil eyes cursed silently. Dallas wasn’t dead, but maybe she was close to death. That’s all that could be hoped for.

 

Dallas had left her office door unlocked when she ran to Doctor Davis’s office. Papers were strewn everywhere and drawers had been pulled out and dumped on the floor. The whole office was a mess!

But Dallas smiled from the safety and comfort of Ben’s arms. “Nobody could’ve found anything important. I have a hidden safe that sometimes even I can’t find!” She giggled. “Now put me down, Ben.”

 

“You’re going straight to bed. No arguments.”

 

“But I have work to do still!”

 

“Well, it’ll just have to wait!”

 

“Alpha?” Dallas asked. The brandy and loss of blood had made her sleepy.

 

“Alpha!” Ben growled as he strode into her tiny bedroom and pulled back the covers. 

 

“I need to get out of these clothes,” Dallas protested.

 

“Only if you promise to let me know when you’re in bed.” Ben was stern.

 

“Okay,” Dallas said meekly.

 

Adam had been closing the curtains in the whole office – and the windows except for a crack to allow the air to circulate. He had watched his father’s face and saw an expression that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. Ben was falling in love with Dallas! 

 

While father and son cleaned up the office, Dallas changed into her nightgown. If she tried hard, she could remember the feel of Ben’s strong arms. Her heart beat faster. She crawled into bed and forced herself to sound cranky. “I’m in bed now!”

 

Adam sat in the office while Ben went into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. “Are you all right?”

 

“I am now,” came the whispered response.

 

Ben tenderly tucked the covers around Dallas’s shoulders. “Adam and I will be here all night. You sleep now.”

 

“If I wake up, I’m going to work on my questions.” Dallas was stubborn.

 

“If you wake up, I won’t stop you.” Ben smiled as he unexpectedly leaned down and kissed Dallas’s forehead. Then he got up and left the room. Neither he nor Adam slept for the rest of the night. But Dallas did.

 

Hoss and Joe didn’t sleep either. They kept their vigil all night long.

 

CHAPTER FORTY SIX

 

Dallas stretched as the day dawned. The pain in her shoulder made the cobwebs in her brain go away quickly. She had no time to think about anything other than to take the drawing and the metal object to court with her. But she smelled breakfast, and her tummy growled. She dressed in a hurry and went into the office to find Adam and Ben eating breakfast with Hoss and Joe. Rosalita was standing there with her hands on her broad hips. She and Dallas shared a rush of conversation in Spanish, ending with Rosalita shoving a plate of eggs, ham, fried potatoes, coffee and milk further towards the chair behind the cleaned-up desk.

 

Dallas sighed and dug in. “I’m being chastised for not eating supper last night. I’m being chastised for insisting on going to court today. I think I said it before: Hop Sing and Rosalita would get along fine if they could communicate with each other!”

 

Dallas tried unsuccessfully to glare at Ben. “You said you’d wake me up.”

 

“No, I didn’t. I said, if you woke up, I wouldn’t stop you from working. You never woke up during the night. How’s your shoulder today?”

 

“Sore, but not sore enough to deter me from going to court. Ben, you’ll be taking the stand again right away. Then Adam, Hoss and Joe – and Hop Sing.”

 

“Hop Sing is in town? Where is he?” Hoss asked.

 

“Obviously in a safe place from what Rosalita tells me. And, from my talks with him, he’s been running back and forth to Virginia City, finding out invaluable information. Don’t ask me to tell you what he’s discovered, though, because I’m not telling!”

 

When breakfast was over, Rosalita carried the dishes back to the restaurant. The Cartwrights and Dallas proceeded to the courthouse. There they found Judge Ellerbee already on the Bench. His face showed his anger.

 

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Dallas said quietly. “Is there something amiss?”

 

“Two of our jurors haven’t shown up. I won’t tolerate tardiness in my Court. I’m swearing in John Blackfeather and Mose Drury, our alternates. Not only that, but Amos Bondurant is not here. And I just heard, moments ago, that an attempt was made on your life last night! I have half a mind to put off this trial until a later date!”

 

This was one instance where William Coleman and Dallas agreed. “There’s no need to delay the trial. Thank goodness we have our two alternates. William doesn’t need Amos here right now – he probably just slept late. And I’m fine. A sore shoulder won’t interfere with my questions.”

 

“Are you two in agreement with that decision?”

 

“We are, Your Honor.” William was standing straight and tall.

 

“I wish to re-call Ben Cartwright to the stand,” Dallas said quietly.

 

“The Defendant will take the stand,” Ellerbee growled.

 

Dallas wasted no time in wondering about the two missing jurors. She started right in with her questions.

 

“Mister Cartwright, when you left Mister Bondurant’s house after the argument, where did you go?”

 

“To my house.”

 

“What did you do when you got there?”

 

“I sat out on the porch and drank a glass of brandy. I wanted to sort things out in my mind.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“Hop Sing served our evening meal.”

 

“Who is Hop Sing?”

 

“He started out as our cook. Then he began taking on household duties – cleaning, washing, making sure the pantry was stocked. He’s been with us for so long that we see him as a member of the family. We couldn’t get along without him.”

 

“After you ate, what did you do?”

 

“I sat at my desk and tried to go over some timber contracts, but I couldn’t concentrate. I tried working with the ledger books but eventually gave up on those also. Then I went upstairs to bed.”

 

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?”

 

“My sons did.”

 

“What happened next?”

 

“I woke up in the middle of the night and was hungry. Without a lantern, I went downstairs into the kitchen and found a cake that Hop Sing had made and frosted earlier. I took a knife out of the knife-holder and cut a big slice for myself. But Hop Sing heard me bumping around in the dark and, not knowing who was in his kitchen, he appeared with his favorite weapon – a meat cleaver. We were both startled. The frosting on the cake was on my hand, and it made the knife slip through my hand. I knew I was in trouble!”

 

“You were afraid of your cook?”

 

“You’ve never faced an angry Hop Sing armed with a meat cleaver in the dark! He didn’t know if the noise he heard was one of us or if it was a stranger. Hop Sing is very protective of us and of the house.”

 

“What happened then?”

 

“Hop Sing lit the kitchen lantern and chastised me for cutting the cake. It was supposed to be for dessert the next night. I saw that my hand, the palm of my hand, was bleeding. Hop Sing cleaned the cut and wrapped it up in gauze.”

 

“And then?”

 

“I went to bed. Hop Sing said, in a snit, that he was going to bed also.”

 

“About what time of the morning was this?”

 

“At three.”

 

“And how can you be so sure?”

 

“Because the grandfather clock was chiming the time. Three chimes.”

 

“Continue, please.”

 

“I went to bed. I got up at our usual hour of six o’clock. My sons and I ate breakfast. They began their morning chores while I sat back down to look over my bookwork again. Sheriff Coffee arrived around noon or so and said that I was under arrest as a suspect in the death of Marcus Bondurant. He took me to jail until the Inquest had sufficient reason to rule that a murder had been committed.”

 

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

 

“You may step down, Mister Cartwright. Thank you for your testimony. Mister Coleman, do you wish to cross-examine Mister Cartwright.

 

“No, Your Honor. Not at this time.”

 

Miz Montgomery, call your next witness.”

 

“The Defense calls Adam Cartwright.”

 

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

 

Adam was sworn in and stated his name for the Record. He waited for Dallas’s questions with no idea what she would ask.

 

“You’re Ben Cartwright’s eldest son. Is that correct?’

 

“Yes.”

 

“Would you lie to save your father’s life?”

 

Adam was taken aback. The question left him stunned.

 

“No, I wouldn’t,” he finally answered. “Absolutely not!”

 

“He’s your father! Wouldn’t it be something to consider?”

 

“No. I wasn’t raised that way. It’s a moot point anyway because I don’t have to tell a lie to begin with. My father didn’t kill Marcus.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“Because I know my father. That’s not something that he would do.”

 

“On the evening before your father was arrested, did your father appear to be upset about anything?”

 

“Objection. Speculation.” William didn’t even sound intense.

 

“Your Honor, I’m asking Adam’s personal opinion as to his father’s state of mind after having had a heated argument.”

 

“Objection overruled. You may answer the question.”

 

“Pa seemed preoccupied. He said that he and Marcus had a heated argument over Marcus’s mining plans. He seemed to lack his normal appetite when we ate. He later said that he was tired and was going to bed.”

 

“Did you see him go, as he testified, ‘upstairs’?”

 

“I did.”

 

“And what were you doing at the time?”

 

“Reading a book.”

 

“About what time did your father leave the room?”

 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at the clock.”

 

“What time did you go to bed?”

 

“Probably around eleven o’clock.”

 

“When you went to your room, did you check to see if your father was asleep?”

 

“No. I can’t imagine why I would ever do that. He’s a grown man!”

 

“Was his door open or shut?”

 

“Shut. It always is. Hoss snores so loud that we all sleep with out doors shut.”

 

“Is the front door the only entrance and exit to the house?”

 

“No. We can go down the hall, down the back stairs, and exit through the kitchen.”

 

“Would your father have to go by your bedroom to use those stairs?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did you hear your father get up in the night to go to the kitchen?”

 

“No.”

 

“In the morning, at breakfast, did you see your father’s bandaged hand?”

 

“Yes. He told us what had happened. He admitted to being hungry and attempting to sneak a piece of Hop Sing’s cake. We teased him about barely missing Hop Sing’s meat cleaver.”

 

“Is it possible that your father went down the back stairs, exited through the kitchen and rode to Marcus Bondurant’s house to kill that man?”

 

Adam leaned forward, his eyes blazing. “Absolutely not!”

 

Dallas looked at Ellerbee. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

 

Ellerbee looked at William Coleman. “Cross examine?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“You may step down now. Call your next witness, Miz Montgomery.”

 

“The Defense calls Eric Cartwright, hereinafter referred to as ‘Hoss’.” He was sworn in and sat down.

 

“You’re Ben Cartwright’s middle son, is that right?”

 

“Yes’m.”

 

“Would you lie to save your father’s life?”

 

“No, ma’am! My Pa didn’t raise me to be a liar!”

 

“How do you know that your father didn’t kill Marcus Bondurant?”

 

“’Cause he ain’t that kind of man. He’d much ruther fight with words than fists or weapons.”

 

“On the evening before your father was arrested, did your father appear to be upset about anything?”

 

William didn’t even bother to object to the question. He knew what the answer would be.

 

“He jest weren’t hisself. Seems like he jest couldn’t concentrate. He said he argued with Marcus about hydraulic mining.”

 

“Did you see him go upstairs to his bedroom?”

 

“I seen him go upstairs. He said he was goin’ to bed.”

 

“About what time was that?”

 

“I don’t know. I kin guess if’n you want me to.”

 

“No. Don’t guess. What were you doing when your father went upstairs?”

 

“Playin’ checkers with Joe.”

 

“What time did you go to bed?”

 

“I don’t know. Before Adam went to bed.”

 

“When you went to your room, did you check to see if your father was asleep?”

 

“Why would I do that, ma’am? We don’t do no bed check – never have, never will.”

 

“Was his door open or shut?”

 

“Shut, like always.”

 

“Would your father have to go by your bedroom to use the back stairs?”

 

“Yes’m.”

 

“Was your door open or shut?”

 

“Shut.”

 

“At any time during the night, did you hear any sounds outside your door?”

 

“No’m.”

 

“In the morning, at breakfast, did you see your father’s bandaged hand?”

 

“Yes’m. He told us what happened – about the cake and the knife slipping in his hand. You done asked Adam that question.”

 

“Is it possible that your father went down the back stairs, exited through the kitchen and rode to Marcus Bondurant’s house to kill that man?”

 

“No, ma’am. It ain’t possible a’tall!”

 

Dallas looked at Ellerbee. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

 

Ellerbee looked at William Coleman. “Cross examine?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“You may step down now. Call your next witness, Miz Montgomery.”

 

“The Defense calls Joseph Cartwright.” He was sworn in and sat down.

 

Dallas asked Joe exactly the same questions that she had asked Hoss. Joe’s answers were basically the same as Hoss’s.

 

Dallas looked at Ellerbee. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

 

Ellerbee looked at William Coleman. “Cross examine?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“You may step down now. Call your next witness, Miz Montgomery.”

 

“The Defense calls Hop Sing.” He was sworn in and took his seat.

 

“Hop Sing, you have been employed by Ben Cartwright for approximately twenty years. Is that right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What are your duties?”

 

“Not understand.”

 

“What is it that you do for the Cartwrights to earn your pay?”

 

“Cook. Keep house neat. Wash dirty crothes [sic]. Sometimes be doctor. Sometimes be fliend [sic] and use ears to risten [sic]. Sometimes give advice.”

 

“You’re more than just an employee. You’re family. Is that how you see it?”

 

“Yes.

 

“When Mister Cartwright arrived home the day before Mister Bondurant’s death, did he seem upset?”

 

“Mistah Ben, he velly sad. Tell Hop Sing about problem about mining. He no eat much food. He be unhappy.”

 

“What did you do after the meal was over?”

 

“Wash dishes. Make nice big cake for Mistah Ben. Maybe make happy.”

 

“What time did you go to bed?”

 

“Don’t know. Mistah Adam still awake looking at book.”

 

“Is your bedroom close to the kitchen?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“In the night, did you hear a noise?”

 

“Footsteps in kitchen. Soft sound. Maybe bad man. Hop Sing grab weapon and tippy-toe in dark to see.”

 

“What time was this?”

 

“Don’t know.”

 

“And, in the kitchen, who did you see?”

 

“Mistah Ben cut cake. Bad Mistah Ben! Hop Sink make noise. Mistah Ben cut self with knife. Hand bleed. Hop Sing make bandage for cut. No cake for Mistah Ben! Go bed!”

 

Dallas bent her head to try to hide the smile on her face. Ben looked sheepish. Adam, Hoss and Joe chuckled. Judge Ellerbee covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his smile.

 

“Do you think that Mister Cartwright had been to the Bondurant ranch and had just returned?”

 

“No! Mistah Ben still in sleeping clothes!”

 

“Is it possible that Mister Cartwright went upstairs, changed clothes and went to the Bondurant ranch?”

 

“No. Hop Sing up before sun. Collect eggs in barn. Mistah Ben horse in barn. No sweat on back.”

 

“Do you believe that Mister Cartwright killed Mister Bondurant?”

 

Hop Sing’s highly-insulted facial expression said it all. “Mistah Ben not kill. Take Hop Sing pigtail if that not be so!”

 

Dallas turned to the jurors. “That’s the strongest oath that Hop Sing can give. The Chinese believe, if they die without their pigtail, that they will be immediately doomed to eternal Hellfire.”

 

Dallas looked at Ellerbee. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

 

Ellerbee looked at William Coleman. “Cross examine?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“You may step down now. Call your next witness, Miz Montgomery.”

 

“The Defense calls Zhong Chinn to the stand.”

 

But Zhong Chinn was nowhere to be found.

 

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

 

“Never mind, Your Honor. I can call Jiang Chinn instead. Amos Bondurant says they were in love. The Defense calls Jiang Chinn to the stand.”

 

Dallas looked around. No Jiang Chinn was present either.

 

Judge Ellerbee roared! “What’s going on here? Two jury members haven’t shown up. Three witnesses haven’t shown up! Where in the world are they? I won’t tolerate this kind of lack of respect for this Court! William Coleman, where is Amos Bondurant?”

 

“I don’t know, Sir. The last time I saw him was when court adjourned yesterday.”

 

“Miz Montgomery, where are your two witnesses? It’s important that they testify that Amos was with them on the night that Marcus Bondurant was killed.”

 

Dallas shook her head. “I took their Depositions during the weekend. I told them to be here on the first day in court whether I put them on the stand or not. They both speak very good English, and I know they understood me.”

 

Ellerbee shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair – completely frustrated. He asked Rex to send some men out to search for the missing young people.

 

Dallas spoke. “In the meantime, Your Honor, I’d like to call Mingyu Chinn to the stand. She can attest to the fact that Amos was – or wasn’t – at her home on the evening in question. She has brought a friend who can translate for her because she doesn’t speak English. May I proceed?”

 

Ellerbee sighed. “Proceed.”

 

“The Defense calls Mingyu Chinn to the stand.”

 

Mingyu, her face fearful, and her translator friend, Lien Kao, approached the stand. Mingyu wouldn’t swear on an American Bible but relented when Lien Kao produced a Chinese Bible. Mingyu took the stand.

 

“Please state your name for the Record. And please spell it.”

 

Lien translated. Mingyu said her name and then spelled it. Lien translated what was said into English.

 

“You are the mother of Zhong Chinn and Jiang Chinn?” Dallas made a deliberate effort to speak slowly.

 

The answer turned out to be, “Yes.”

 

“Do you know where your children are right now?”

 

The answer was, “No.”

 

“I took your Deposition during the weekend. Is that correct?”

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“You are familiar with Marcus Bondurant’s death?”

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“The night before Mister Bondurant’s death, did Amos Bondurant come to your home?”

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“At what time did he arrive there?”

 

The answer was, “I don’t know. It was after dark.”

 

“Why did he come to your home?”

 

The answer was, “To see my daughter and son. Amos and my daughter were in love. Amos and my son were good friends.”

 

“In your personal opinion, did Amos appear to be upset?”

 

Dallas saw Mingyu eyes dart furtively into the gallery – it was a very quick thing but Dallas decided to be on her toes.

 

The answer was, “No.”

 

“So this was simply a friendly visit?”

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“How long did Amos stay at your home?”

 

Mingyu looked very uncomfortable. The answer was, “I don’t know. I went to sleep early. When I rose, Amos was gone.”

 

“Have you heard of the ‘Tong’ before?”

 

Mingyu’s face drained of color. But the answer was, “No.”

 

Dallas knew then that she wouldn’t get a truthful answer from this witness. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

 

“The witness may step down. Do you have another witness to call, Miz Montgomery?”

 

“I do. My next witness will be Hai Chinn, husband of Mingyu and father of Zhong and Jiang. Will you allow Lien Kao to continue to translate?”

 

“I will. Proceed.”

 

“The Defense calls Hai Chinn to the stand.”

 

Hai Chinn also swore in on the Chinese Bible and was seated.

 

“Please state your name and its spelling for the Record.” The translation took place and was entered by Herman into the books.

 

As fearful as Mingyu had appeared, Hai appeared differently. He looked confident and relaxed.

 

“You are the father of Zhong Chinn and Jiang Chinn?” Once again, Dallas spoke very slowly.

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“And you are married to their mother, Mingyu?”

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“Do you know where your children are now?”

 

The answer was, “No.”

 

“On the weekend, I took your Deposition. Your children were present. There was a translator present. Was it understood that all of you would be in court on the first day it reconvened after the weekend?”

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“Can you explain why your children are not here?”

 

The answer was, “No.”

 

“You are familiar with Marcus Bondurant’s death?”

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“The night before Mister Bondurant’s death, did Amos Bondurant come to your home?”

 

The answer was, “Yes.”

 

“At what time did he arrive there?”

 

The answer was, “I don’t know. Perhaps it was early evening. Around dark, maybe.”

 

“Why did he come to your home?”

 

The answer was the same as Mingyu’s. “To visit with my son, his friend. And to visit with my daughter, his sweetheart.”

 

“How long did Amos stay at your home?”

 

The answer was, “I don’t know. I went to visit friends for a while. I returned home late and went straight to sleep.”

 

“Have you heard of the ‘Tong’ before?”

 

The answer was, “No.”

 

“Let me refresh your memory a bit. The ‘Tong’ is a secret society for Orientals. It is composed of men only, or it used to be.”

 

There was no answer, so Dallas continued.

 

“The ‘Tong’ are often tied to highly criminal activity. Are you sure that you never heard of it?”

 

The answer was, “I am sure. My wife and I lead very quiet lives and mind our own business.”

 

Dallas picked up several sheets of paper. “These papers are proof that, not only are you familiar with the ‘Tong’, but that you are the head of the ‘Tong’ society here in Carson City. Shall I read them aloud?”

 

The answer was, “Perhaps I was mistaken. I know of that organization by a different name.”

 

“These papers also say that you report directly to the ‘Tong’ leader in San Francisco. A man by the name of ‘Bing Kang Tong’. He’s the kingpin of Chinese-run mining operations from California all the way up to Montana. Shall I read more?”

 

The answer was, “I do not know anything of which you speak. I am far away from San Francisco. I am a good man, with a good wife and good children.”

 

With fury, Dallas turned to face Judge Ellerbee. “I move that the testimonies of the Chinns be stricken from the Record, Your Honor! They are both lying! The sentence for perjury is five years in prison!”

 

Hai Chinn’s face blanched. But how could that be if he didn’t understand English?

 

“Calm down, Miz Montgomery. How do you know that perjury is being committed?”

 

“Because, when I was young and had no mother or father, a Chinese family took me in until I was old enough to go to college. I speak flawless, fluent Mandarin Chinese – the same Mandarin that the Chinns speak.”

 

The courtroom went absolutely silent.

 

“You know I can’t just take your word for it, Counselor.” Judge Ellerbee looked almost unhappy. “You haven’t taken any notes to show me proof of perjury.”

 

Dallas’s eyes gleamed. “Your Honor, I have a confession to make. You won’t be happy, but it’s proof of what I’m telling you. The translator and Record Keeper at the Depositions was Dorothea Tidwell’s niece, Miss Chey Cooper. She is currently on sabbatical from her temporary job with the head of the railroad and is writing her Doctorate Degree thesis. Her duties for her employer require the ability of taking dictation and also the ability to speak Mandarin Chinese. She has studied Mandarin Chinese extensively and speaks it flawlessly, so much so that she is the chief translator from the various heads of the railroad directly to the Chinese workmen. She is sitting in the back of this courtroom and has written down every word that’s been said by the Chinns. I assume that you would like to question her yourself?”

 

“Indeed I would!” Ellerbee almost chortled. “Miss Chey Cooper, please approach the Bench. Mister Coleman, I would like you to approach also.”

 

Heads turned to watch Chey as she made her way to Judge Ellerbee’s desk. In her hands, she carried a large notebook and several pencils.

 

“How do you do, Your Honor. My name is Chey Cooper.”

 

“How do you do, Miss Cooper. Have you heard everything that Miz Montgomery has said?”

 

“I have, Sir.”

 

“And, in your opinion, is she correct about this perjury matter?”

 

“There is no doubt that she is correct, Your Honor. Let me show you my notebook.”

 

“I can’t read a thing. This is all written in that crazy mess that Herman makes when he writes down everything.”

 

“Exactly, Your Honor,” Dallas said. “And if that’s true, then Herman should be able to read the words back to you. They should match his shorthand to the letter.”

 

Judge Ellerbee looked at Herman. “Bring your notebook up here.”

 

Herman complied.

 

“Now read what Miss Cooper has written when Miz Chinn testified. Just a few lines will do.”

 

Herman expertly read what Chey had written.

 

“Now show me your notebook. I want to compare this chicken-scratch.”

 

Except for an occasional cough or sneeze, the gallery remained silent.

 

“These ‘characters’ that you make are basically the same.” The Judge continued looking at them.

 

“That’s because Pittman shorthand is the same in all English-speaking areas of the world,” Dallas said proudly. “The rules of Pittman shorthand do not change, nor do the individual characters that you see on the paper.”

 

“Now, Miz Montgomery, explain what this has to do with perjury.” Ellerbee was confused.

 

“Please, Sir,” Chey broke in, “let me explain. As Lien Kao translated Dallas’s questions to the Chinns, I wrote each question down in English and in Mandarin. And when Lien translated from Chinese to English, I wrote the answers down in both languages. In important places, neither the questions nor the answers relate to anything that has to do with this case. I can give you examples.”

 

“Please do!” The Judge looked totally baffled.

 

Chey began. “Dallas asked Mingyu Chinn this question: ‘Have you heard of the ‘Tong’ before?’ What Lien said to Mingyu was, ‘Watch your step when you answer this. She wants to know if you’ve ever heard of the Tong.’ Mingyu’s answer was, ‘No.’”

 

Judge Ellerbee shook his head. “I can’t hang my hat on that. The answer was still the same.”

 

“Then let me go a little farther. Dallas’s question to Hai Chinn was, ‘The ‘Tong are often tied to highly criminal activity. Are you sure that you never heard of it?’” What Lien said was, ‘The cow is getting too close for comfort. How are you going to handle this?’ Hai’s response was, ‘She is a cow. But I don’t think she knows anything. Tell her, ‘I am sure. My wife and I lead very quiet lives and mind our own business.’”

 

Up went Ellerbee’s eyebrows. “Tell me more.”

 

“This is from Dallas. ‘These papers are proof that, not only are you familiar with the ‘Tong’, but that you are the head of the ‘Tong’ society here in Carson City. Shall I read them aloud?’ Lien said to Hai, ‘She’s got proof. What do we do?’ Hai’s response? ‘Just keep on doing what you’re doing. You look like a scared rabbit.’ Tell her, ‘Perhaps I was mistaken. I know of that organization by a different name.’”

 

“Another thing from Dallas. ‘These papers also say that you report directly to the ‘Tong’ leader in San Francisco. A man by the name of ‘Bing Kang Tong’. He’s the kingpin of Chinese-run mining operations from California all the way up to Montana. Shall I read more?’ Lien said to Hai, “I’m leaving town after this session is over. She may know enough to put nooses around both our necks!’ Hai said, ‘Keep calm. She can’t possibly know how deep in this I really am.’ His response? ‘I do not know anything of which you speak. I am far away from San Francisco. I am a good man, with a good wife and good children.’”

 

At that point, Lien tried to run from her place at the witness stand to the door to the courtroom. Adam caught her and pinned her arms securely. She gave up and began to whimper. 

 

Mingyu hid her face in her hands and wept. Hai Chinn tried to look defiant but failed. Herman took his seat, ready to take more notes. Chey Cooper waved at Dallas and left the courtroom.

 

Judge Ellerbee banged his gavel. “All three will be held in jail until this trial is over. Only then will I decide what sentence to impose on them!”

 

Rex, Adam and Hoss took the three people to jail.

 

“Miz Montgomery, I haven’t dealt with you yet. I find you in contempt of Court and sentence you to thirty days in jail. You could have asked me to let Miss Cooper be a ‘plant’ in the gallery, but you didn’t. You took matters into your own hands.”

 

“Yes, Sir. I did. But it turned out to be a good thing. However, I do apologize for the deception.”

 

Ellerbee sighed. “I have the authority to mete our justice. And justice will not be served by putting you in jail. Therefore, I rescind the infliction of jail time. But you owe the Court the amount of fifty dollars – just because you were conniving.”

 

Dallas reached into her pocket and pulled out some money. She counted out fifty dollars and handed it to the Judge.

 

“You knew what I would do?” Ellerbee was astounded.

 

“I had an idea. I thought you’d ask for more so I came prepared.” Dallas smiled and sat down at the Defense table next to Ben. 

 

“Miz Montgomery,” the Judge sighed, “do you have any other witnesses to call to the stand?”

 

“No, Sir. In light of the fact that three young people – my three witnesses – have failed to show up, and in light of the fact that Amos’s alibi was true, the Defense rests.”

 

“Closing Arguments tomorrow!” growled the Judge who stalked into his chambers and immediately drank three glasses of whiskey. He proposed a toast to thin air: “Here’s to a damn good defense attorney.”

 

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

 

Outside the Courthouse, Dallas winced as she accidentally bumped shoulders with Ben. 

 

“Why don’t we swing by Doc Davis’s office before we do anything else. You’ve had a long day after last night’s trauma.”

 

Dallas wanted to disagree. But her shoulder throbbed and she felt slightly feverish. Originally she had thought that the warmth of her face and behind her eyes came from the last few minutes in court. Now she wasn’t so sure. But she didn’t want to seem like a simpering female either. She made up her mind.

 

“Okay,” she agreed blithely. “That’s not a bad idea. The dressing hasn’t been changed all day anyway. Let’s let Trevor tend to it.” Then she looked around at four concerned faces. “My Lord! I can go by myself, you know!”

 

“Not when somebody tried to kill you last night. Consider us your bodyguards until the trial is over.” Dallas was surprised that Adam used the same no-nonsense tone that his father used when he was “playing alpha.”

 

Actually, Dallas was glad these four men were with her. In fact, she was a wee bit paranoid and found herself looking in alleyways and corners, wondering if the assailant would jump out and hurt her. So she smiled and walked briskly to Trevor’s office knowing that she was protected.

 

In order to get to the doctor’s office, it was necessary to cross the street. Just by happenstance, Dallas put one hand into the pocket of her skirt – not the pocket that she had put money into for the Judge as a “just-in-case” thing – but into her other pocket. Out came her hand in a hurry, and she stopped abruptly to investigate one of her fingers.

 

“Oh, crap!” she muttered. “I forgot all about this thing.” Carefully she pulled out the throwing star that had wounded her the night before. “I meant to add this to the Exhibits in court.” She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to do it before Closing Arguments tomorrow if Judge Ellerbee will let me.”

 

“Is it important?” Ben asked.

 

“I’ll answer that question only if you all swear that you won’t repeat this.”

 

Four heads nodded.

 

“I found a piece of metal at the Bondurant ranch. It’s already on the Exhibit Table. It looked very familiar to me but I wasn’t sure that it meant anything. Last night, Trevor saw it and made a sketch of my wound – the very bottom of it that shows puncture marks along with the cutting of my skin. I showed you the object last night. I have reason to believe that this ‘throwing star’ is the weapon that killed Marcus. In the column on the front porch is a scar in the wood itself that looks like one of these things hit the column, stuck and then broke. Or it broke when it hit the column and ricocheted into Marcus’s neck. I made not of it on my sketch pad at the Bondurant ranch.”

 

Adam, whom Ben had described as “the dreamer” was also very much a thinker. “That would give us the murder weapon – something that none of us is familiar with. But who would use it?”

 

“One doesn’t use such a weapon, per se. One throws it. I have a black sash in Kung fu. I can easily throw it and maim or kill somebody because I was trained to do so. It takes much more skill than throwing a knife and sticking the blade into something.”

 

“And who would be trained in such a manner?” Adam’s mind already knew where Dallas’s thoughts were headed.

 

“Somebody well-versed in the martial arts. A member, perhaps, of the Tong?”

 

“And Mister Chinn lied on the stand a while ago when he said he’d never heard of the Tong.” Joe’s mind was working hard.

 

“Say, how’d you know that Chinn was in cahoots with that Tong man in San Francisco? Hoss’s mind was trying to put things into perspective. “Where’d you get those papers from anyhow?”

 

“Why, from Hop Sing, of course! He’s Chinese, by his own admission he knows more about the goings-on in Virginia City than any other people, and he appears to have cousins everywhere! Hop Sing says that a Chinese person can sneeze and, in two minutes, the whole Chinese population of a town knows who is catching a cold.”

 

Ben had a question. “Did he write down all this information for you? You were referring to some papers when you were questioning Chinn.”

 

“Well,” Dallas said as she wrinkled her nose and tried to look innocent, “not exactly. Um, those papers were given to me by Hop Sing, that’s the truth. But Cousin Number 1 had carefully written a poem about the sky and clouds on the papers that I was referring to. There was nothing there about the Tong.”

 

“You mean you bluffed Chinn into lying?” Ben was astounded. 

 

“Uh-huh. Let’s go on to Trevor’s office now.” Dallas strode so quickly across the street that all four Cartwrights were hard-pressed to keep up with her. 

 

Joe, somewhat out of breath, managed one question before Dallas opened Trevor’s door. “What woulda happened if’n the Judge wanted to read those papers?”

 

Dallas sighed. “I’d be in jail. And your father would’ve had to find an attorney for me!”

 

“Oh, Lordy!” Hoss moaned.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY

Trevor greeted Dallas with a big smile and shook hands as he was introduced to the Cartwrights. Then he took a good look at Dallas’s flushed cheeks. “Got a little fever, huh?

“A little, I s’pose.”

“Shoulder hurt?”

“Some.”

“Tell the truth, Dallas. As deep as that wound was, and as many stitches as I put in it, the correct answer would be, ‘It really hurts!”

“Well, it does. Kinda… Sorta…”

“Hop up on the table and let me look at it.”

Dallas hesitated for a split second, then climbed up onto the examination table and began unbuttoning her blouse.

Four Cartwrights looked at each other, at Trevor, at Dallas, and then back at each other. Should they leave? Turn their backs? What should they do?

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Dallas snorted. “I’m not naked! And if none of you has ever seen a woman in a camisole at this stage of your lives, then it’s high time that you were educated!” Off came her blouse revealing a lacy camisole with a pink ribbon at the top. Soft, feminine curves were obvious below the bow.

The Cartwrights, in all fairness, did try to look elsewhere, but their eyes always went back to Dallas’s face and the devilish light that twinkled in her eyes.

Trevor even smirked. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Dallas grinned. Then, “Ouch! That hurts!”

“Yeah, well, the dang thing is showing signs of infection. Did you change the dressing like I told you to?”

“I didn’t have time. I slept all night and was almost late arriving in court today.”

Ben stepped over close to Dallas. “You didn’t tell me that you had stitches or that the dressing needed changing! You may be my attorney, but I have half a mind to take you over my knee…”

Dallas’s chin jutted out. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

Trevor looked concerned. “Dallas, some of these stitches need to come out so I can clean that wound again. And I’ll give you some pills to take to make you feel better and to help get rid of that fever. I’ll need to put you to sleep, though.”

“Nope! You didn’t put me to sleep last night and you won’t now! I have things that need to be done before tomorrow morning. And I need to be clear-headed.”

“Dallas, this is not going to be pleasant,” Trevor stated.

“Just do it!” Dallas commanded.

The stitches coming out really didn’t hurt that bad. Dallas kept talking through this process. “Trevor, you drew a picture of what the wound looks like from top to bottom. I have that picture. Will you please show the Cartwrights what it looks like in real life?”

Five heads all peered into the affected area of Dallas’s shoulder as Trevor began rinsing it with a solution of alcohol and iodine. Dallas yelped and then grit her teeth.

“Sorry, Dallas, but I warned you,” Trevor said sympathetically. “This will help the healing process better than anything else.”

“That won’t help it heal if the patient dies!” came Dallas’s snarled answer. Sweat began dripping down from her hairline.

“I’m through with that part. I want for it to settle a few minutes before we look at it again.” Trevor fetched a cool cloth and his magnifying glass while the Cartwrights stood by Dallas and watched her, helpless to alleviate her pain.

Hoss fanned her shoulder with his hat. He didn’t know what else to do. Ben took the cloth from Trevor and, ever so gently, wiped the sweat from Dallas’s forehead. Adam looked at Joe; Joe looked at Hoss. There was a look on Ben’s face that defied description. It wasn’t just a sympathetic look – it was more than that. Something that seemed to come from deep within Ben’s heart and soul. It was a tender, gentle, warm, loving look. Up went Adam’s eyebrow; Hoss and Joe grinned. They understood.

“Show them what it looks like,” Dallas said as she took a deep breath.

“Is it all right?” Trevor asked. “I mean, Ben is the Defendant. Can he testify to what he’s seen here? Is this even legal?”

“Of course it’s illegal! Show him!” Dallas snapped. “Let Adam, Hoss and Joe see it, too! If Ben can’t testify – should I be able to use this information at all – then they can testify that this mark is identical to the one on Marcus’s neck. Doctor Martin drew a picture just like you did. But seeing it in real life on a  real person will make a difference.”

Trevor went into “teaching” mode as four Cartwright faces focused on what was being pointed out.

“Right here, the whole thing looks like it was made by a very sharp knife. It’s a very clean slice with no ragged edges. But look deeper.” Here he separated the two edges of skin, trying to ignore Dallas’s sharp intake of breath at the unexpected discomfort. With his magnifying glass in the right position, he said, “Tell me what you see at the very bottom of the slice mark.”

Hoss, the tracker, was the first to speak. “There’s a few li’l dents down deep. They look kinda like somebody rolled spurs through there.”

Adam shifted his vantage point to see better through the magnifying glass. “It looks as though something was stuck deeper into the skin – something with a regular track.”

Joe added, “Hoss is right. It looks like spur marks. From very sharp spurs.”

Ben summed it up. “Dallas is right. It looks very similar to the picture Doc Martin drew. And bears the same resemblance to the one Trevor drew.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Dallas snapped. “It’s the same kind of throwing wheel that was used on Marcus! But…”

Trevor was busy threading his needle and distracted Dallas momentarily from her train of thought. Suddenly she felt a big hand close around hers. A warm hand. A strong hand. Looking down, she recognized the hand as belonging to Ben. His eyes were as warm as his hand was. “Keep talking. Finish what you were saying.”

So Dallas talked, sometimes between clenched teeth, as Trevor began closing the wound. “There are many kinds of throwing knives. Some are made from bamboo and are meant to splinter on contact. Some are made of other kinds of material that are equally unpleasant. Most, nowadays, are made of metal – light and easy to throw and very deadly in the hands of an expert.”

Dallas made herself breath deep while she squeezed Ben’s hand harder and harder.

“Keep talking, Dallas. He’s almost done.” Ben was now sweating.

“The points on the throwing star are varied. There are some with three points, some with four points, some with six points and some with eight points. The points go deeper into the skin than the interim spaces between points.” Dallas’s face was pale. She began to lean into Ben’s chest and could feel his chin resting gently on the top of her head.

“Trevor, what kind of animal has skin closest to human skin?” Dallas had an idea.

“Hmm… I would imagine a pig does,” Trevor answered.

“A pig!” Joe almost shouted.

“Not a wild pig. A tame one. They git sunburned if’n they cain’t roll in the mud and cover theirselves. Or they gotta find some shade to stand in.” This was spoken, of course, by Hoss – the animal expert of the family.

“All done except for the bandage,” Trevor announced. “And you’re right about the domesticated pig, by the way. They can get badly sunburned.”

As the bandage was applied, Dallas – still leaning against Ben’s chest and still holding tightly to his hand – almost smiled. “I have an idea. It will prove a very important point if Ellerbee will allow it. Don’t ask what it is. I’ll get Hop Sing to tend to it.”

Trevor handed Dallas her blouse, but it was Ben who helped her put it on. At this point, nobody was embarrassed at seeing Dallas in her camisole – it seemed just like any other regular piece of clothing. Dallas grudgingly let go of Ben’s hand, accepted the pills that Trevor gave her, made sure that she still had the throwing star in her pocket – along with Trevor’s newest sketch of her wound – and promised to change the dressing at least twice a day. To be sure that would happen, Trevor gave Ben the bandages and gauze.

“I think you’ll be much better tomorrow. If you need me to testify, come get me!” Trevor called as the group left the office.

“Wait! I haven’t paid the bill!” Dallas called back over her shoulder.

“Yes, you have.” Trevor grinned. “I got to practice my locking mattress stitches on you! Just don’t make it a habit or I’ll have to start charging you!”

Dallas actually laughed out loud.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

While Dallas and the Cartwrights walked back to Dallas’s office, a new and different pair of eyes watched in interest. Obviously, the attorney wasn’t dead – only wounded. But to what extent? The three kids and the two jurors had been taken care of. What to do now? Killing the attorney would have no effect on the jury’s decision, so that was out of the question. Ben was a scapegoat who would probably be found guilty. Too bad. The owner of the eyes slipped away.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

Dallas sank gratefully into her chair behind her desk and glared at the paperwork in front of her. She took out the throwing star and Trevor’s newest sketch and glared at them with an equally intense look.

Ben poured a glass of water. “Take your pills.”

Dallas made a face. “Later. I don’t know how those pills will affect me.”

 

“Now! You will take them now! And you’d better swallow them because I’m going to check your mouth to make sure that they’re gone!” Ben was insistent.

Dallas grudgingly took the pills and opened her mouth, waggling her tongue around. Yep, she had swallowed them and made a face as she did so. Ben was satisfied.

“Ben, do you know what you need? You need a brand new baby to coddle and make a fuss over.”

Ben looked at his sons. “If these three ever get married, I’m hoping to have a household  full of babies. Right now, I’m taking care of you!

Dallas sighed. “Try to remember that I’m your attorney. Don’t look at me as a woman.”

Ben dead-panned his answer. “Then don’t stand in front of me in profile any more!”

Dallas’s jaw dropped open but no words came out. Adam, Hoss and Joe laughed – they had never heard Ben spar in such a way. His answer had been quite impressive and on-target.

Rosalita, Francine and Jacques magically appeared, bearing platter upon platter of food. And none of them would leave until every bit of food had been eaten. They asked no questions but sat quietly as their meals disappeared. They gathered up the dishes and left.

Now came Hop Sing, a broad smile on his face. “Missee Dallas feel good now? Hop Sing make Chinese medicine to put on wound. Stop fever. Wound get well quick! Use tonight at bandage change. Skin happy in little time.”

“And I will be here to change the dressing. Dallas can’t be trusted to follow the doctor’s orders.” Ben was adamant.

Pulling a dreadful-looking poultice from a brown bag, Hop Sing showed Ben. “This go on top of stitches. Then use bandage. It work. You see!”

Adam, leaning unchastised against the wall, spoke. “Hop Sing, it seems that you’ve been the greatest help in this whole case. How can we ever thank you?”

“Mistah Ben not kill. Hop Sing have no doubt. Hop Sing do velly best to give Missee Dallas all news.”

“Hop Sing, can you handle a throwing star?” Dallas was covering all her bases.

“Oh, no, Missee Dallas. Hop Sing cannot! Use chop-chop as best weapon!”

Dallas knew that Hop Sing was referring to the meat clever, his favorite weapon. “Just asking.” Then she looked at four Cartwright faces and one Chinese face. “I’ve got work to do. And I need to have Hop Sing stay here for a little while. The rest of you are excused.” This was not said unkindly but as a matter of fact.

Ben’s deep voice rumbled. “Lock your doors. If you must open the windows, don’t open them all the way. Try to keep the curtains closed. I’ll be back later to change that dressing.”

“Yes, Sir!” Dallas saluted Ben and smiled.

“I’ll have Adam, Hoss and Joe watching your office tonight, but they’ll be careful to stay in the shadows.

“I don’t expect any more trouble. We start Closing Arguments tomorrow. It’s too late to stop the trial. And Hai Chinn, Mingyu, and Lien Kao are in jail. But, if it makes you feel better, I won’t turn down these bodyguards. Is that acceptable?”

“Quite,” came Ben’s response. “I’ll see you later.” All four Cartwrights exited the office. Dallas told Hop Sing about her plan. “Good one. Hop Sing see to all things.” Then, he too, left the office.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

Ben knocked on the door long after darkness had fallen. Dallas looked weary with fever-flushed cheeks but smiled when she saw his face.

“Do come in, Ben! I need to take a break from my legal stuff and enjoy myself for a little while.”

“You’re forgetting that I am your ‘legal stuff’,” Ben replied.

“How odd that I would say that. Must’ve been a Freudian slip. I don’t think of you as a client any more – you’re more like a…a…friend.” Dallas was visibly flustered.

“Well, I am a friend also. And, in that capacity, I’ve come to make sure that you take your pills and change that dressing. If Hop Sing finds out that I didn’t put the poultice on that wound, he’ll chase me down with the cleaver!”

“Can’t we do without the pills and the bandage-change?”

“Absolutely not! Where’s the poultice?”

Dallas pointed. “On that shelf over there. Nasty looking stuff, isn’t it?

Ben looked at it. “I don’t know whether to eat it, smoke it, or shoot it.”

“Ahhhh, Ben! You’re like a breath of fresh air!” Dallas smiled brightly.

“That’s good to hear. You know, you’re quite beautiful when you smile.”

Dallas felt delicious shivers all through her body. She got flustered again. “Well, let’s get to the pills first. They have a bitter flavor, but I saved some of Rosalita’s Flan for a snack tonight. I think she pretended not to notice. That Flan will take away the pills’ bitter taste. And I’ll share with you. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Dallas threw the pills into her mouth, tilted back her head and drank a glass of water. “Ewww! Flan! Flan!” She pointed to a big bowl next to the sofa. Near it was a spoon. Ben grabbed both, spooned up a glob of of the egg-and-caramel custard and slid it into Dallas’s mouth.

“Better?”

“More!” Dallas opened her mouth to receive the second spoonful.

“Are the pills that bad?” Ben asked.

“No. I just like having you spoon it into my mouth.”

Ben chuckled. “You’re a vixen, you know.”

“Am not. Here, let me feed you some. You’ll want me to do it again. Wait and see! Open your mouth and close your eyes.”

Ben did as he was told. The creaminess and sweetness of the dessert did have an effect on him.

“More?” he asked.

“Just one more. I need to save some to eat on later tonight. It looks like I’ll be working on my Closing Arguments for a while.”

“Just a little taste?” Ben had a twinkle in his own eyes. He liked this game.

“Oink,” Dallas said as she slipped the Flan into Ben’s mouth.

Joe and Hoss were looking through the same window. They would be keeping vigil all night, along with Adam who was walking around the office’s outer perimeter.

“What’re they doin’?” Hoss asked as he watched.

“Eating some kind of custardy-looking thing.”

“They’re feedin’ each other. Ain’t that a li’l odd?”

Joe grinned. “Haven’t you been noticing the changes in Pa? I think he’s in love and doesn’t know it.”

“And so is she!” Adam said abruptly as he grabbed both brothers by their shirt collars. “Now stop peeping in the window and start keeping your eyes open for any signs of trouble!”

 

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

Ben found himself quite flustered – a feeling that he wasn’t used to. But he decided it was quite pleasant, so he smiled and received a smile in return.

Dallas’s smile turned into a slight frown, causing Ben to ask, “What’s the matter?”

“It goes against all legal ethics, but I want to tell you what I’m thinking is going on. Will you listen and let me talk things out?”

“Of course I will!”

The two sat on the sofa. Dallas curled her legs up under her and faced Ben. “I know that Amos is lying about some things. At first I thought he might be the killer, but I’ve changed my mind. I think he’s covering up for somebody or trying to protect somebody. Hai Chinn and Lien Kao are proven liars – they certainly know more than they are going to tell. Mingyu knows something but is afraid to tell. I think she’s afraid of her husband. Now we’ve got three young people plus two jurors who are missing. We have two alternates to still retain a jury of twelve. Is there a spy who is an alternate? Or two spies who can work together to sway votes toward your guilt? Why? Why would someone want to frame you? Why would someone want to kill Marcus? Why would someone want to kill me unless they feel that I’m getting way to close to blowing something wide open. I have a very strong feeling that Hai Chinn and the local Tong and the San Francisco Tong are all related to the sudden interest in Marcus’s wanting to find gold in such a hurry. But I can’t figure out how! I’m so frustrated!”

Ben was quiet for a minute. “What does Hop Sing know or think? He has his ears to the ground apparently.”

“He knows only what you heard me say in court. And he’s taking a very big chance. If the Tong find out that he’s feeding me information – or that his cousins are passing on things to him – then his life is in danger.”

Ben stood up and fetched the poultice which he put down on the table in front of the sofa. He pulled gauze and a wad of cotton batting out of a bag in his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Dallas looked confused.

“Changing your dressing. Off with your blouse.”

Dallas was angry. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? Don’t you care? This is your life we’re talking about, and all you can do is think about my pills and bandages?” Dallas stood up and looked intensely into Ben’s eyes.

“Oh, I care very much,” he said softly. “I don’t want to be hanged for something I didn’t do. I don’t want my sons to be fatherless. I especially don’t want for you to be killed. But I’ve learned something about myself. And that is, when faced with a major crisis, to step away from it for a short time and clear my mind. Then go back and re-visit the problem. Often I can get a different slant on the problem that’s cluttering my mind.”

Dallas hesitated. “Let’s do the dressing change then.” She sat down on the sofa, unbuttoned and removed her blouse, feeling very self-conscious. She looked once again at Ben as he picked up the poultice – and she realized that she could’ve been naked and not gotten any more attention.

Off came the old cotton batting.

“I’m sorry that I was so angry with you,” she said. “I didn’t understand.”

On went the poultice. It was cold, making Dallas shiver.

“Did that hurt?” Ben asked.

“No. It just feels weird. Do you suppose that little tiny creatures will crawl out of it and take over the country?”

Ben laughed out loud. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I don’t know where Hop Sing comes up with this stuff. I just know that it works!”

Gauze held the cotton batting in place. Dallas put her blouse back on as Ben threw away the old bandages and then washed his hands in the ewer of water. “I think you’re right on target in everything you said. I’m a scapegoat for the real killer. Marcus was only interested in panning for gold for a long time. All of a sudden, he wanted to clear-cut and start hydraulic mining. He never had that kind of money for such an operation. Who was backing him? Why was he being so adamant about wanting to get this done his way? Because he felt sorry for the community of Chinese and wanted to give them jobs? Or was he being railroaded by someone who already had a large Chinese crew or could get a Chinese crew?”

Dallas stood up and headed for the bowl of Flan. “Let’s back away for a minute. Concentrate on the taste and texture of this dessert for a minute.”

They didn’t feed each other. They passed the spoon back and forth and ate until the custard was gone. Dallas reached up to wipe off a bit of Flan from Ben’s chin. Her finger rested there and they locked eyes. The kiss that ensued took them both by surprise! It was a quick but gentle kiss. And then Ben’s arms went around Dallas’s shoulders, pulling her close to him. His lips on hers were tender but forceful. Her lips answered the question in his as she stood on her tip-toes. Both of them were trembling slightly when the kiss ended.

Ben ran a finger softly over Dallas’s cheek. “You taste like caramel.”

“I could get addicted to this kind of attention, you know,” Dallas said in a half-tease. Then she jumped. “That’s it!”

“What’s ‘it’!”

“Addiction! Opium dens? Slave trade? The money gleaned from either one?”

“The need for more money to keep one or the other or both going?” Ben was thinking hard along the same lines as Dallas.

“We need Hop Sing!” Dallas said. “But I don’t know where to find him. Where does Cousin Number 3 live?”

Ben hollered for Joe. “Joseph, you took a note from Rosalita to Hop Sing. Do you remember where you went?”

“What’s the matter, Pa?”

“Just answer me!”

“I remember. It’s down the…”

“Go get Hop Sing and bring him back here. And hurry!”

 

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

While most of the residents of Carson City slept, some were sneaking about, gathering information and passing it on and some were rushing from one place to another. Just as the sun was beginning to rise, Dallas took a deep breath, fixed her hair, and put on her prettiest but most-businesslike blouse, skirt and jacket. She gathered everything she needed and headed first to William Coleman’s house to wake him up. Then she banged on Judge Ellerbee’s door at his house. He was not happy. But he was no fool. He could tell by the look on Dallas’s face that she had important news to share. Over breakfast, which Dallas cooked, they waited for William. Upon his arrival, Dallas told everything she knew. The wheels of Justice rolled quietly into motion.

At the Hotel, Ben shaved twice and so did Adam. Hoss and Joe paced the floor. Though Rosalita brought breakfast, it remained uneaten. Nerves were frayed and stomachs revolted at anything other than coffee. Dallas had told the Cartwrights to meet her in the courtroom at nine sharp – nobody wanted to be late.

With the usual formalities, Judge Ellerbee entered, the jury was seated, both Counsels were present, and Ben took his usual place beside Dallas. Adam, Hoss and Joe sat in their seats, tense and alert.

The bailiff called the court to order, and immediately Dallas stood up. “Your Honor, I regret to inform you that I was in error yesterday when I stated that we rested our case. I have two things that are important to add to the Exhibits.

“This is highly unusual, Miz Montgomery. They had better be important.”

“I request that this piece of metal, called a ‘throwing star’ by those who practice the martial arts, be received as Defense Exhibit 6A. And this sketch, drawn by Doctor Trevor Davis, be received as Defense Exhibit 6B.”

“Before I make a ruling on whether you may or may not place these things into evidence, you’d better explain their importance or you’re wasting our time!”

Dallas looked at the Judge, then William, then the jury. “You may or may not be aware of the fact that an attempt on my life was made a few nights ago. Thankfully, my injury was minor. This,” she picked up the throwing star, “was the instrument used to injure me. In a moment, I will pass it to the Judge to scrutinize. Exhibit 6 shows a piece of metal that I found at the Bondurant ranch. Though it is only a piece of metal, it matches exactly with the complete throwing star that struck me. In the Inquest Report, Doctor Martin found Mister Bondurant’s wound to be unusual, so he drew a sketch of the wound during the autopsy. And Doctor Davis drew a sketch of my wound just from my first visit and my second visit. The patterns of the points of the throwing star match the deep skin punctures exactly. As a person trained in the martial arts to the elite level of ‘black sash’ and therefore trained in the use of the throwing star, this is solid proof that Marcus Bondurant was killed by a replica of this very throwing star. Ben Cartwright has never been trained in the martial arts. He has no idea what to do with this object.”

Ellerbee extended his hand for the star, the metal piece, and the sketches. He took his time looking at them. William was called up to look at them. Then they were all passed to the members of the jury. The large clock ticked away the time, and people in the gallery stood up or on chairs to try to see better.

“Miz Montgomery,” Ellerbee began, “I see a definite pattern here. But I need more proof. Can you provide it?”

“I certainly can! But, I will need to throw this object at something. If I should miss my target in here, someone could be seriously hurt. We need to go to the livery stable where I have a ‘target’ all set up in case you needed more solid evidence.”

“The jury, and Herman, will follow me to the livery stable. Nobody in the gallery is to leave this building. Anybody who attempts to leave will be found in contempt of court and will not be fined but will go to jail. Male or female! Mister Cartwright, you will stay in the building also. Now, Counsels, come along.”

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

Thanks to Hop Sing, the target had been provided. Thanks to Hoss, the target was mounted on a thick sheet of wood secured to a far column in the stable. The horses had been moved into the corral. Doctor Davis had been waiting there. Dallas instructed everyone, including Ellerbee, where to safely stand. Also thanks to Hop Sing’s poultice, Dallas’s throwing arm was no longer throbbing. She hoped it would be strong enough to propel the star to a distance of about thirty feet.

The target was one-half of a domesticated pig, obtained from the butcher shop in the middle of the night. It was exactly one whole side of the pig from nose to the end of the tail.

“I was told by Doctor Davis, who is here now and will testify in court, if need be, that a domesticated pig has skin that is the closest match to human skin. What I propose to do is to throw the star at the board first and to try to break it. I have an identical second star to match it to. I now give the star to Judge Ellerbee to inspect.”

The Judge looked at it – hard – and then made several lines through it with a piece of chalk. “This is to keep you honest, Counsel. No magic tricks today.”

Dallas focused on the thick wood and concentrated as she turned sideways. Holding the star parallel to the ground in her right hand, she brought her hand to her chest and in a sudden movement sent the star flying through the air. It missed the board completely but did hit the column above the board. The star broke into two pieces. Judge Ellerbee walked the thirty feet to pick up the pieces – both of which had his chalk marks on them. They fit together perfectly, but Dallas was now afraid. She had missed the board altogether. Could she hit the pig?

Trying to look confident, Dallas took several deep breaths as she announced that she could accurately hit the pig dead-center. More deep breaths. Her shoulder protested. She had one chance. With a shout, she hurled the star as hard as she could and as accurately as she could. The star hit the pig with a loud “thunk” and stuck there. It didn’t hit the pig dead center but rather closer to the shoulder. Dallas’s shoulder slumped. She had missed.

Ellerbee strode up to the target and had to make several attempts at getting the star dislodged. Doctor Davis stood by him, and they talked quietly as they looked and poked and prodded at the pigskin.

“Miz Montgomery, your request to submit the throwing star into Defense’s Exhibit is allowed. Just as you said, just as Doctor Martin sketched, and just as Doctor Davis attested to just now, the wound in the pigskin is identical to the wound that killed Marcus Bondurant.”

Dallas sat down on a bale of hay while the members of the jury went to look at the target and the wound made by the throwing star. Trevor left Ellerbee to explain things to the jurors and knelt by Dallas’s side. “You did just fine.”

“But I missed being dead-center.”

“If you had hit dead-center, the star wouldn’t have had flesh deep enough to leave the impression that it did. Be thankful your aim was off. Had it hit a rib, the flesh would’ve torn instead of being sliced.”

Dallas gulped in a big breath of air. Trevor looked concerned. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Very sore.”

“I’ll tell the Judge that I need to check it before you go back to the courtroom. I won’t keep you long, I promise.”

Dallas nodded her assent.

Herman, William and the jurors were sent back to the courthouse. The Judge, uncharacteristically kind, allowed Trevor to take Dallas back to his office to inspect her shoulder. Trevor took a minute to ask if his testimony would be needed. It wouldn’t be because Herman had taken down every word that had been spoken since the arrival at the livery stable. Rolf, the owner of the livery stable and a man as big as Hoss, threw the pig and the board over his shoulder and toted it back to the butcher shop. Ellerbee went back to sit on the Bench.

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

As he was seated, Judge Ellerbee spoke. “I beg everyone’s indulgence. Defense Counsel had a medical issue and is being checked out by Doctor Davis. We will sit – quietly – until Miz Montgomery returns. In the meantime, Herman will note for the Record, that the ‘throwing star’ is entered into Evidence as Defense Exhibit 6A. Also submitted into Evidence as Defense Exhibit 6B is a sketch drawn by Doctor Davis. His testimony at Rolf’s Livery Stable was taken down for the Record and was spoken on-site to the jury.”

 

Ben, who should have been worried about his own life, was now frantically worrying about Dallas’s life. Was she injured by someone? Was her shoulder-wound badly infected? Ben knew what she had planned to do with the throwing star and the target, but had something gone wrong? Had it just been hours ago that he had kissed her, felt his blood run hot, felt the tenderness and intense emotions of his heart? Her total response to that kiss told him that she was more than just physically attracted to him. He wished that they had had more time – but, on the other hand, some very important matters were put into play. He looked back at his sons – three fine, strong men whose faces reflected the same nervous edginess that Ben knew was on his face.

The door squeaked open, and Dallas entered with her arm in a sling. She walked to the Defense table and stood beside Ben as she addressed Judge Ellerbee.

“I wish to thank the Court for its indulgence. The Defense now rests its case and is ready for Closing Arguments.” She sat down.

Ben wrote a note: Are you all right?

She wrote: I’m fine. Arm needs to rest. No problem.

He wrote back: Nothing’s happened.

She wrote: William’s Closing will take a while. There’s still time.

Ben felt Dallas’s knee press into his knee. He pressed back but kept his eyes straight ahead.

William Coleman approached the jury and began his long-winded Closing Arguments. Dallas deliberately paid very little attention as her mind whirled. William was reading from sheets of paper. Dallas wouldn’t be reading – she’d be speaking from the heart.

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

After forty minutes, William was finally finished and was thanking the jury for its attention. Now it was Dallas’s turn.

Standing before twelve men, Dallas let her eyes sweep over each man. She began to speak.

“Gentlemen, you are well aware that this is a murder trial. A man’s life is at stake. His fate rests in your hands. It’s up to the Prosecution to prove that Ben Cartwright took the life of Marcus Bondurant. The key word here is prove their case beyond all reasonable doubt. Let’s look at the facts. Did Ben Cartwright and Marcus Bondurant have an argument so heated that Amos, son of the deceased, actually feared what was about to happen and then fled in panic. This is a fact. Did Ben Cartwright have a motive for taking Marcus Bondurant’s life? The answer to this is not very clear. Though it’s true that Ben Cartwright was completely against clear-cutting and hydraulic mining, he didn’t care if Marcus Bondurant panned for gold, no matter what side of Red Fern Creek was utilized. Therefore a motive has not been established as a fact.. Did Marcus Bondurant, at the time his body was found, have a knife on or near him? Yes. This is a fact. Did Ben Cartwright sustain a knife wound on the palm of his hand? Yes, this is a fact. But was the wound caused by Marcus Bondurant’s knife? We don’t know that for sure, so you must not consider this as true evidence of Ben Cartwright’s guilt. Is Marcus Bondurant dead. Yes. This is a fact. Was his death deemed an act of murder? Yes. This is a fact. Were there any eye witnesses to the murder? No. This is a fact. Was the murder weapon actually found? No, it wasn’t. But my demonstration, plus what you saw with your own eyes, plus the sketches from Doctors Martin and Davis, prove that the weapon was a throwing star used only by someone well-trained in martial arts. And it takes years of training to use this weapon to its best capacity. This, gentlemen, is a fact. Amos Bondurant’s testimony in this Court was not entirely truthful. This is a fact. You will have access to every Exhibit that has been presented here. You can read his testimony for yourselves. You will see the parts where he was untruthful. These are facts. Through Doctor Martin’s testimony, you learned of Marcus Bondurant’s time of death. The time mentioned is approximate but, as Doctor Martin pointed out, lividity and rigor mortis – and their times of appearance – aremedical facts. Did Ben Cartwright’s three sons hear their father announce that he was ‘going upstairs to bed’? Yes, so this is a fact. Did Ben Cartwright actually go to bed and did he sneak down the back stairs, in his nightclothes, to cut a freshly-baked cake? Testimony from the cook, Hop Sing, indicates that this took place during the time that Marcus Bondurant was killed. This is a fact. Did Ben Cartwright slice his hand accidentally on the knife when he was startled by the appearance of Hop Sing, in the dark, brandishing a meat cleaver? Hop Sing testified that this was so. I take it as fact. You, as members of the jury, are not allowed the luxury of speculation. You must base your judgment on facts that have been proven. And there is nothing that the Prosecution has presented that proves that Ben Cartwright committed murder.”

Dallas paused and hoped that she had covered everything. She glanced at the courtroom door, but it remained closed. She sighed and watched as the jurors finished their note-taking.

“Who is the most important person in the courtroom today? Is it the Prosecutor? No. Is it me? No. Is it the Judge? No. It is each one of you as an individual.” Dallas pointed and paused at each juror. Then she continued. “Judge Ellerbee will give you some instructions before you go to deliberate. One of these instructions is known as ‘Reasonable Doubt’. It’s very simple. When you go over the facts and the evidence in this case, you must ask yourselves if you believe the few facts or if you have doubts that tug at your minds. You aren’t dim-witted men or you wouldn’t have been selected to sit on this jury. If your doubts outweigh the few facts, then you must come back with a verdict of ‘Not Guilty’ to the charge of ‘Murder’ on the part of Ben Cartwright. I said it earlier, and I will say it again. The fate of a man lies solely in your hands. Either he is guilty beyond Reasonable Doubt or he is not guilty at all. Thank you for your patience and your undivided attention.”

Dallas returned to her table and sat down. Ben’s whole leg bumped hers and remained there. She maintained the pressure throughout the Judge’s “Instructions to the Jury.” The courtroom door remained closed.

“Bang!” went the gavel, and the jurors filed off to go to the Deliberation Room. With the usual formalities, Ellerbee headed to his chambers.

“What now?” Ben asked as his sons leaned forward.

“We wait. Ellerbee has men who will find us when the jury comes back in. There is a sheet of paper near Herman’s desk that the bailiff will check. Every time we go anywhere, we write down where we can be found.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Adam asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Dallas answered truthfully. “Let’s go get some lunch at Rosalita’s. It’s close by. We can keep our eyes peeled for what I had hoped would have happened much earlier than now.”

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

After an hour, while Dallas and the Cartwrights were still at The Royal Diner, Dallas watched as a young man ran towards the restaurant. “It’s too soon,” Dallas said as the young man opened the door. He spotted Dallas and handed her a note which was written by Judge Ellerbee. It read: Jury has asked to see all Exhibits.

“Luke?” Dallas asked the young man. “Is this the only thing that Judge Ellerbee gave you?”

“Yes’m.”

“Thank you. Will you please tell the bailiff that we’ll be in my office until further notice?”

“Yes’m. I’ll do that.”

“Thank you.”

“What does the note mean?” Joe asked.

“It means that the jury members are trying very hard to use their brains. They’re seeking clarification about some things.”

“Is it a good sign or a bad sign?” Joe was impatient.

“It could be either one,” Dallas answered with a sigh. “Let’s go to my office.”

 

CHAPTER SIXTY

Inside her office, Dallas sat at her desk and readjusted her sling.

“Does it hurt? Do I need to get Trevor?” Ben asked.

“No,” Dallas smiled. “My shoulder is less sore. I’m just fidgety.”

“Aren’t we all,” Adam stated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess things didn’t work out like we had hoped.”

Dallas knew what Adam was referring to. “But we tried. We did our best.”

Another hour had almost passed when Luke, breathless, opened the door to the office. “Jury’s back and ready!”

Dallas walked over to Ben. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready. I’m more than ready!”

Dallas smiled. “Let’s go then.”

William Coleman arrived at the courthouse at the same time and walked in with them. “Good luck,” he said. His expression was genuine. Dallas nodded but didn’t wish him “Good luck.”

Judge Ellerbee was already on the Bench and the jurors were already seated. They didn’t look at Ben as he sat down with Dallas at the Defense table. Dallas feared that this wasn’t a good sign. Adam, Hoss and Joe sat down behind Ben and Dallas, their nerves severely frayed. Ben’s face displayed a calm that he didn’t feel.

Judge Ellerbee spoke. “Has the jury reached a verdict in this Case?”

A man stood – Dallas recognized him as John Blackfeather, the Apache Indian who was one of the alternates. “We have, Your Honor.”

“Was the vote unanimous?”

“It was.”

“Please hand the verdict sheet to the bailiff. He will then hand it to me to read before I return it to you.”

Ellerbee’s expression was inscrutable. Back went the paper to John Blackfeather.

“Will the Defendant please stand?” Ellerbee directed.

Dallas and Ben rose to their feet. Dallas nervously adjusted her sling.

John Blackfeather read from the sheet of paper. “We, the jurors, in the Case of Amos Bondurant and the Territory of Nevada versus Benjamin Cartwright, accused of the murder of Marcus Bondurant, find the Defendant….” There was a pause due to some noise outside. “We find the Defendant Not Guilty!”

There was a moment of stunned silence and then there was thunderous applause. William Coleman actually smiled, and so did Judge Ellerbee.

Adam, Hoss and Joe all talked to Ben at once as they shared hugs and slaps on the back. Dallas had backed away a little bit, knowing that Ben and his sons needed this time together. Then Ben realized that Dallas was beaming at him. He threw his arms around her and whispered in a husky voice filled with emotion, “Thank you, Dallas. You’re an angel.”

“Am not,” Dallas laughed.

“You’re my angel,” Ben continued to whisper in a voice that made Dallas shiver with delight.

People in the gallery began stampeding out of the courtroom but ran into resistance by people pushing to come into the courtroom. One voice shouted over the cacophony of voices, “Judge! I lied! I lied!”

To quiet things down, Rex had to fire his gun into the ceiling.

Ellerbee was banging his gavel and shouting, “Order in the Court. Order in the Court!”

People stood still and there was dead silence. Amos Bondurant pushed his way forward. “Before you read the verdict, I know that Mister Cartwright is innocent!”

“Amos,” the Judge began, “the verdict has been read already.” He excused the jurors with his thanks.

This was the moment that Dallas and the Cartwrights had hoped would come earlier. It was part of the plan that she and William had discussed with the Judge early that morning.

“I know who killed my Pa!” Amos almost shouted. “It wasn’t Mister Cartwright. He’s innocent!”

“Who killed your father and how do you know it to be true?” Ellerbee asked.

Amos turned and pointed a finger at a man in handcuffs standing behind him. A man with flat, black eyes and an angry expression. “He killed my Pa! I was there and saw him do it!”

“Amos, you can rest your mind. Ben Cartwright has already been found Not Guilty.”

Amos, his skin and clothes covered in dirt, fell to his knees and wept. “Thank God! Thank God!”

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

Pushing their way toward Amos were the two missing jurors with a deputy at their sides and Mingyu with her children, Zhong and Jiang. They stood in silence amid the chaos around them.

“Order! Order!” shouted Ellerbee above the din of voices from the gallery. “This trial has been adjourned. All people in the gallery are to leave at once! Now move!”

Nobody wanted to leave but they were made to. Even the jurors had to leave. Dallas, Ben, his sons and William, plus the bailiff, were allowed to stay.

Judge Ellerbee looked at Dallas. “Miz Montgomery, it would appear that your instincts or conclusions or whatever you want to call them were correct. I don’t know what I would’ve done if the jury had returned a verdict against your client. Fortunately, that didn’t happen.” He turned to look at the two missing-now-found jurors. “What happened?”

“We were kidnapped from our hotel room by that man.” A finger pointed at the snake-eyed man.

“Do you know why the two of you were taken and not any of the others?”

“Because we have no family who would report us gone, Sir. At least, that’s what we assume.”

Ellerbee realized that there was a second man in handcuffs. “And who are you?”

“Only the snitch, Sir. And the one who guarded the captives. I was afraid not to. The lives of my wife and children were threatened by that man – I don’t even know his name.” Another finger pointed at the snake-eyed man. “I spied on Miz Montgomery and reported to him what I heard or saw.”

“Did you, at any time, attempt to hurt Miz Montgomery or to frighten her in any way?”

“No, Sir. My duties were only to watch and listen. I ain’t never hurt nobody in my life! And my wife was threatened anyway. If she told the sheriff what was going on, then my children would die.”

“Take off his handcuffs, deputy. Go home to your wife and children. Rest assured that you will be threatened no more, even when you are called to testify against the kidnapper. Oh, you two jurors may be excused. If I were you, I’d have several drinks and then a bath!”

Ellerbee watched as the three men left and then turned his gaze toward Mingyu Chinn. “It is my understanding that you were questioned outside of your jail cell last night. Is this true?”

Jiang translated for her mother. “Yes.”

“Is it true that your husband, Hai Chinn, is the head of the Tong here in Carson City and also in Virginia City?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you lie on the stand?”

“Because my husband threatened to sell Zhong and Jiang into slavery if I told anything. When I knew they had disappeared, my husband told me where they were but that they would stay there until after the trial. He told me to keep my mouth shut until the verdict was in. Then my children would be returned home but faced being sold into slavery if they ever said anything about their father’s connections to the Tong. Miz Montgomery promised me safety for myself and my children if I would lead deputies to where they were hidden.” Mingyu wept softly.

“Bailiff, please bring Miz Chinn some water and help her to sit down in a seat.” Ellerbee’s voice was gentle. “Now, I want to hear the whole story from one person right now. I may ask more later. Who knows the entire truth?”

“I do, Your Honor. I found out everything after Mister Cartwright left our ranch. After the argument. But I was too much of a coward to tell what I knew because I was told by that man that Jiang would become a slave in an opium den in San Francisco. I was willing to let Mister Cartwright die to save Jiang. I’m not much of a man, am I?” It was a rhetorical question, so nobody answered.

“Sit down, Zhong and Jiang. This is a story I need to hear with no interruptions unless I specifically ask you something. Bailiff, they need water and so will Amos. We’ll wait for you to bring it.”

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO

“Amos, sit up here in the witness seat. Start from the beginning as best you can.” Ellerbee propped his chin on his fingertips.

Amos sat ramrod-straight in his seat. Dallas had always referred to him as a man and it was time for him to act like one. This is the story he told:

“Pa was addicted to opium. While Ma was so sick, old Doc Brady gave her opium for the pain. When she died, Pa started using it and couldn’t stop. But, when it was gone, he didn’t know where to get more. So he went to Hai Chinn to ask. And he got his answer. But it cost us dearly. Pa started hanging around opium dens a lot. To pay for that and to pay for the opium he got on the Black Market, he started panning for gold really hard. But we just got further into debt with the Chinese distributors. Pa found out about the slave trade that Hai Chinn ran and said he’d tell. Hai Chinn threatened him and said he’d kill me if Pa didn’t pay up. Pa knew that there was gold up by Red Fern Creek, so he made a deal with Hai Chinn and his henchmen. He would let the San Francisco Tong dig for gold on our property, but they pushed him hard and wanted to get to it faster than by tunneling. They wanted to clear-cut the land and then begin hydraulic mining. Pa hated that idea but feared for my life even more. So he agreed.” Amos stopped and took a long sip of water. Then he continued.

“The day before Pa was murdered, I heard him and Mister Cartwright having a horrible shouting match over the hydraulic mining. I told the truth – that I was scared and ran away into the woods. But I watched the house and saw Mister Cartwright leave. I went back home, and that’s when Hai Chinn arrived and said that the clear-cutting had to start immediately – the Tong wouldn’t wait any longer. Pa had made me hide, but I heard the whole thing. Pa threatened to tell about the slave trade, but Hai Chinn just laughed in his face and threatened to kill Pa instead of me. Jiang had told her father, and so had I, that we wanted to get married. Hai Chinn didn’t consider me a threat because he figured I didn’t know anything about the opium, the money spent on it, or the slave trade. He thought I would be easily-manageable once Jiang and I were married because I would be the sole heir to the ranch. After Hai Chinn left, Pa explained the whole story to me, and now I’m telling you. Pa and I had the first honest talk that I can remember. I left to go see Zhong and Jiang to see what they knew and to see if they could help me.” Amos sighed.

“When I got to the Chinn house, Jiang was almost hysterical. Her father was going to spread the word around that she was going to have my child and that we needed to get married very quickly. She heard this as Hai explained it to Mingyu. He threatened Mingyu by saying that he’d sell Jiang if Mingyu opened her mouth. Jiang also heard that Hai had hired a Tong man to go kill my Pa. So we decided to go warn him. But we got there too late. Pa was sitting in the kitchen, eating cornbread and drinking buttermilk, when that man-with-no-name called to Pa and said to hurry and come outside. Pa grabbed the lantern but didn’t light it – Zhong, Jiang and I could see very well through the window. Pa stood on the front step and called out to the figure in the shadows, asking his identity and what did he want. Something whizzed by – we could hear it but not see it – but it hit the porch column and fell on the porch. Pa stepped off the porch, and we saw something whiz by. It reflected the moonlight. It hit Pa in the neck, but Pa managed to throw his knife and we could see that it stuck in the man’s shoulder. Jiang screamed and the man came runnig after us. We jumped on our horses and ran away. But not before I got a real good look at the killer. It was that man in the handcuffs. The last look I got of my father was when he was on the ground, holding his neck and struggling to breathe. I left my father to die in the dirt…” Amos wept again.

When he gained control of himself, Amos continued. “We went back after about two hours. The knife was on the ground and the murderer was gone. We thought. I ran to Pa, but he was already dead. We couldn’t do anything for him. I pulled the metal thing out of Pa’s neck and threw it as far as I could. I don’t know where it landed. As it turned out, that man came out of the house holding a big piece of cloth to his shoulder – and he told us that we were in deep trouble. He’d hunt us down wherever we went and would see to it that we were tortured and then killed. He picked up the broken part of the metal thing and was furious that he couldn’t find all of it. He rode away, presumably to get help for his wound. Zhong and I carried Pa onto the porch while Jiang cleaned up any traces of blood in the dirt and on the steps. Judging by the sketch Miz Montgomery made, there were some blood smudges that were on the steps We knew rigor mortis had set in, but we didn’t know about lividity. I picked the lantern up and must have left blood marks on it. I also forgot to turn the lantern light out. I was relieved that nobody seemed to find an empty lantern odd. We rode back to Chinn place, and then I rode home and waited for a decent amount of time to pass before I went back to our ranch. Please, Your Honor, Zhong and Jiang had nothing to do with the murder – please don’t arrest them!”

“What about the kidnapping of the jurors and the three of you?” Ellerbee asked.

“That man-with-no-name took Zhong and Jiang and the two jurors first. After I had testified in Court, I couldn’t be trusted to keep my mouth shut. I had already been caught lying on the stand after I had sworn to tell the truth. I saw ‘that man’ in the gallery and, when I left the courthouse, he snatched me up and took me with him. We were all in some sort of cave. Mingyu brought us food. The other guy, the snitch, kept an eye on Miz Montgomery and reported back – there was no news to tell other than the fact that she had survived the attempt on her life. Mingyu, after talking with Miz Montgomery, decided to work with the law and led them to us. And now we’re here.”

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

“Why do you call the prisoner ‘the man with no name’?” Ellerbee asked.

“Because we don’t know his name, who he is or where he comes from. I’m assuming that he is a member of the Tong.” Amos shook his head.

“Rex, bring the prisoner in front of me.”

Rex did as he was told to do.

“Tell me your name.”

Silence.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Tell me your name or I’ll throw you in jail!”

Silence.

Dallas spoke. “Um, Your Honor? Don’t throw him in jail. Let him walk out of here.”

“I beg your pardon!” came Ellerbee’s reply.

“The Tong deal with their own in their own way. Interesting methods of killing someone who might have loose lips. The prisoner probably would rather go to jail than to face the Tong.”

The prisoners eyes showed fear. He knew that his life would come to an end not fifty feet out of the courthouse if he walked out alone.

“Chou Chang. My name is Chou Chang.”

“Well, Chou Chang. You’ll go to jail right now. Rex, make sure he has a cell with no windows. We wouldn’t want any throwing stars to hit their mark, would we?”

“Not under my watch, Sir.”

Rex escorted the prisoner, by the back way, out of the courthouse.

Ellerbee looked at Amos, then Jiang, then Zhong, them Mingyu. “You all should be in jail for various and assorted charges: perjury under oath, knowledge of kidnapping, giving false information to the law, covering up of evidence pertaining to a criminal proceeding – and I’m sure that I can find more things to throw in.” He paused as Zhong translated to Mingyu.

“However, the Judge has a certain amount of leeway. The law leaves punishment to the discretion of the Judge. If I let you go, will you promise to come back tomorrow? There will be no jury trial. It’s not necessary because I see extenuating circumstances behind everything that’s been said and done. Do I have your promise to return in the morning?”

There was a chorus of Amos, Zhong, Jiang and Mingyu’s voices. “Yes!”

“Then you are free to go. Miz Montgomery? Attorney Coleman? I’ll need you here in the morning also. Mister Cartwright, you are free to go – a man judged Not Guilty by a jury of your peers. Good luck to you.”

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR

“We need to go back to my office for a moment,” Dallas said, a happy smile on her face. “Ben, you’re a free man! How do you feel?”

“Thankful. Relieved. Like a weight’s been taken off my shoulders! I don’t know how to begin to thank you.” There was deep emotion in Ben’s voice.

“Thank my uterus.” Dallas looked devilish. “It told me that you were innocent to begin with. And your money gave me wiggle room to pay for information gleaned by Hop Sing.”

“Where is Hop Sing?” Joe asked. “He should be here. We couldn’t have done this without him!”

Hoss shrugged and looked at Adam. “Maybe with Cousin Number Three? Maybe he doesn’t know the verdict yet?”

All five people stopped as they neared Dallas’s office. The door was slightly ajar. Dallas stated the obvious: “That is not a good sign.” A look of fear swept across her face.

Hoss strode to the door. He was unarmed and would make a very large target. He looked perplexed as he swung the door open and moved quickly to the side.

“Ya gotta see this,” he said after a moment.

Pushing Dallas behind him, Ben led Adam and Joe to the now-opened door. They stared in stunned silence.

“What is it? What is it?” was all Dallas could say because she couldn’t see past the Cartwrights. She pushed her way in front of them.

Her office was filled with serving trays, laden with food that was still warm. Some of it came from Chez Ami and some came from The Royal Diner. In several buckets were bottles of wine. The sign above the desk read “Not Guilty” in big letters.

“Oh. My. God!” Dallas couldn’t say anything else. And then, like a child, she clapped her hands and laughed hard. “Would you just look at all this food? Somebody find Hop Sing! We might not be celebrating if it weren’t for him and his cousins!”

A figure emerged from Dallas’s bedroom. A figure with an enormous smile. “Hop Sing not miss this!” He ran up to Ben and pumped his hand in glee. “Mistah Ben innocent!”

Heading straight for the champagne, Adam expertly popped the cork and poured glasses for everyone. “Here’s to Pa – a free man!”

“And here’s to Dallas, the best attorney anywhere!” said Joe.

“And here’s to the jury. The used their brains!” exclaimed Hoss.

Ben smirked as he made his own toast. “And here’s to Dallas’s uterus. It was right from the beginning!”

Glasses were raised high. “To Dallas’s uterus!”

Dallas laughed. “I have a toast of my own to make. Here’s to our as yet unsung hero – Hop Sing. Without his tenacity, his contacts here and in Virginia City, without his unfailing belief in Ben, without his taking chances that could have meant his life, without his love and devotion, where would we be? To Hop Sing!”

“To Hop Sing!”

Hop Sing’s eyes filled with tears for a moment. “Now we eat. Food get cold! Eat! Eat!”

Under the platters were everything from lobsters to chicken, various selections of vegetables, fresh fruit and four different kinds of cheeses.”

Dallas looked pointedly at Ben. “Look! There’s Flan too!”

“What’s so special about Flan?” Joe asked.

Dallas snorted. “Obviously you aren’t aware that some folks should be seen but not <i>heard</i>!”

Ben waggled his eyebrows. Adam shoved a lobster claw into Joe’s hand. “Just shut up and eat.”

Dallas hid some Flan behind the desk. It might come in handy later…

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE

After every bit of food had been eaten, the champagne bottles emptied, and no wine left, Francine and Jacques and Rosalita appeared to take the platters and trays and dishes and empty bottles away. Dallas hugged them all and thanked them profusely. So did the Cartwrights and Hop Sing. After the door was closed, Dallas sank into a chair. “I ate too much. I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again.”

Hoss sighed. Joe’s eyes were half-closed. Adam leaned back in his chair and picked his teeth with a chicken bone.

“I hope you fall over,” Dallas smirked. “You’ll have to stay there all night on the floor because we’re all too full to pick you up.”

“Will you at least throw a blanket over me?” Adam grinned in repartee.

“No.” Ben said as he let his belt out a notch. “We’ll let you lie there and get moldy.”

“Well, if that’s the way it is, then I’m going back to the Hotel,” Adam growled. “Come on, Hoss. Get up, Joe.”

“But we ain’t ready to go,” Hoss answered.

“Uh-uh. Not ready,” Joe echoed.

“Yes you are” Adam’s no-nonsense voice as he cut his eyes toward Ben who was looking warmly at Dallas.

Pause. Hop Sing muttered in Chinese, shot Hoss and Joe withering glances and left the room to go to Cousin Number Three’s house.

“Oh! Yeah! We’re tired!” Hoss announced.

“Fat, dumb and happy. That’s us!” Joe added quickly.

Adam practically pushed his brothers out the door. “What’s wrong with you two? Couldn’t you see the looks between Pa and Dallas? They want some alone time!”

“Oh” and “Ohhhhh” from Hoss and Joe, each grinning.

CHAPTER SIXTY SIX

Dallas stood up and rubbed her full tummy. “Adam’s not only a dreamer and a thinker, he’s intuitive.”

“How’s that?”

Dallas sat on the sofa next to Ben. “He knew we needed some time together.” Cautiously, she moved her arm out of its sling and leaned into Ben’s shoulder.

Ben kissed the top of her head, jostled her as he moved his arm to where it encircled Dallas’s shoulders. “How do you feel?”

“Physically, mentally or emotionally?”

“Take your pick.”

“Physically, I feel stuffed from all that food!”

“What about mentally or emotionally.”

“Uh-uh. You have to pick one.”

“I’ll pick both of them.” Ben shifted position on the sofa and drew Dallas into his arms, her head nestled against his chest. “I haven’t felt this happy or this  for a very long time.”

“Well, you should! The trial is over and the outcome was a complete success!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it!”

“Yes, I do know it, Ben.” Dallas lifted her face up to look into Ben’s eyes.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s like finding someone that you’ve dreamed about for years but that person had no face. Now there’s a face.”

“It’s only been a little over a week, Ben. It’s too soon…” Dallas whispered.

Ben’s lips stopped Dallas’s speech. Unlike the night before, this kiss was different. It seemed to hold a promise. There was passion in both their lips, heat in both their lips, hunger in both their lips, and there was a feeling of love.

Dallas drew away first. “I saved some Flan for us. Looks like we don’t need it.” She reached up and traced the outline of Ben’s lips.

“Flan must be an aphrodisiac,” Ben said with a smile. “Just mentioning it makes me want to kiss you and never stop.”

“Mmmm,” Dallas purred. “But, Ben, it’s too soon.”

“Who’s to say what’s too soon or what’s too late or what the right time is? I think that two reasonably-intelligent, mature people can make up their own minds.”

Dallas snorted. “Reasonably-intelligent?”

“Well, we’re being reasonably-intelligent right now, aren’t we?”

“I guess. But we’ve been thrown together, morning, noon and night for all these days. Maybe you’re just feeling grateful. Maybe I’m just happy at the verdict.”

Ben drew away a bit. “Is that what you believe? If that’s true, then I’m way out of line. It’s time for me to go.”

“No! Don’t go! I’m trying to find a good reason to explain what’s happening to me. I’m afraid. I think I know all there is to know about you. But I’m still afraid.”

“This business of the heart – it’s enough to make anybody a little scared. But I know everything that I need to know about you.” Ben settled back into the sofa, relaxed, and rubbed Dallas’s back. “We didn’t change your bandage!” he said suddenly.

Dallas laughed so hard that her eyes teared. “Forget the stupid bandage! I swear, Ben Cartwright, you need a baby to coddle!”

Ben laughed too. “I’m probably too old.”

Dallas giggled. “I doubt it. But if you can father a baby, then I guess I’m not too old to mother one. Or two…”

There was a companionable silence. Then Ben spoke. “Come back to the Ponderosa with me. Come ‘home’. I love you. Marry me.”

There it was – out in the open.

Dallas nuzzled Ben’s neck. “I love you, too. But give me some time to think this through. And you need to talk this over with your sons. That’s non-negotiable! I think Hoss and Joe would accept me, but would Adam? I’m not that much older than he is. You’ve maintained a men-only family for quite a while. Would a woman be accepted? And what about Hop Sing? I certainly don’t want for him to be displaced! He’s such a gem and such a part of your family!”

“Don’t worry. I know my sons. They want for me to be happy. So does Hop Sing.”

“Ben?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’ve worked a long time to be a good attorney. I don’t know if I’m ready to give that up.”

“So? Who’s asking you to give it up?”

“You wouldn’t mind if I worked? People will say you married me for my money.” Dallas giggled.

“And I’d admit to it,” Ben chuckled. And then kissed Dallas again. Sweet, tender, lingering kisses.

“Give me some time,” Dallas murmured between kisses.

“I’ll give you all the time you need,” Ben answered. And then his lips sought hers again.

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

The four Cartwrights traveled the familiar road home. Ben was deep in thought and a furrow across his brow showed something was bothering him.

“Pa, she had legal work to do. Loose ends to tie up. She’ll be here.”

“I hope so, son. We didn’t get much of a chance to say goodbye. She’s so busy…”

“She’ll have you on her mind.” This from Joe.

“She loves ya, Pa!” This from Hoss who got sidetracked by the aroma of fresh pork roast that nobody else could smell yet. “Dadburned if that Hop Sing ain’t already in the kitchen. Pork roast for dinner tonight!” He urged Chubb into a gallop, making a beeline for the house.

Ben had to smile. “Well, if we plan to have anything to eat tonight, we’d better hurry and get there before Hoss eats it all!” He spurred Buck into a gallop in hot pursuit of his middle son.

“Adam? What if Dallas doesn’t marry Pa? It’ll break his heart.” Joe looked concerned.

“All we can do is to hope that she loves him enough,” Adam replied, his own brow furrowed. “He’s survived lost loves before. He’ll do it again if he has to.”

But a week went by. No word from Dallas. Ben wasn’t himself – he had unpredictable moods. He ate little. He stared into space a lot. He had trouble making decisions. At the end of ten days, his mood changed. He had stopped grieving and waiting and watching. He knew that Dallas had made her decision.

This particular night was a rainy one but the thunder didn’t disguise the fact that a horse could be heard approaching the house. Ben didn’t even look up from his book. There was a knock at the door which was opened by Hop Sing.

“Somebody to see you, Mistah Ben.”

“Who is it? Let him in.”

“No come in. You come to door.” Hop Sing stood by the door, his face inscrutable.

Hoss and Joe continued their game of checkers. Hoss was trying hard to catch Joe cheating. Adam was strumming a new song.

With a sigh, Ben got up and went to the door, glaring at Hop Sing.

“Do you still want for me to come ‘home’?” the voice asked.

“Who are…” Ben stopped in mid-question as the hood of a raincoat came away from a familiar face.

“Tell me that you’ve come home,” Ben whispered, barely able to breathe.

Rain and tears mixed together on Dallas’s face. And then she reached up and threw her arms around Ben’s neck and kissed him hard on the lips. Ben gave a loud whoop and picked Dallas up in his arms, swinging her around and around and into the house, his lips on hers once again.

Startled at their father’s whoop, Hoss and Joe stood up quickly, the checkerboard overturning. Adam stood up with his fingers still on the chord he had been playing on his guitar.

Laughing, Dallas looked around and then looked at Ben. “I think that went well, don’t you?”

 

The End