Paris McKenna, an old friend of the Cartwright family, suddenly falls ill on her way to San Francisco and a new job. She reluctantly accepts Ben\u2019s invitation to rest and regain her strength at the Ponderosa. However, she also carries the burden of a devastating secret that could rip the close-knit Cartwright Family to shreds.<\/p>\n
\u201cBloodlines\u201d is the first story in a series. Fair warning: this story includes the addition of a non-cannon character.<\/p>\n
Rating MA \u00a0WC \u00a0133,000<\/p>\n
Bloodlines Series:<\/strong><\/p>\n Bloodlines<\/a> Bloodlines<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cCareful, Ma\u2019am, watch your step.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Mister Dawson,\u201d Paris McKenna said politely. Though the Irish lilt in her voice had diminished considerably after just over two decades of living in the United States, a trace yet lingered. She accepted the driver\u2019s proffered hand, and stepped gingerly from the stagecoach down to the dusty street. \u201cHow long will we be in Virginia City?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe coach leaves at half past three, Ma\u2019am,\u201d Angus Dawson, the driver, quietly replied.<\/p>\n Though aged in her late thirties, virtually everyone she encountered assumed her to be much older. She wore a plain white blouse and modest dark blue traveling suit that was long out of style when she purchased it second hand from a thrift store in Chicago ten years ago. Her hair, once a rich dark brown almost black, was generously laced with strands of silver gray. She wore it pulled back severely away from her face, and tightly bound into a simple chignon at the nape of her neck. Her cosmetics, a light dusting of powder and rouge, accentuated rather than concealed the lines, indelibly etched into the flesh of her care worn face. She walked slowly, taking small, hesitant steps, her posture slightly stooped.<\/p>\n Angus Dawson wouldn\u2019t have spared her a second glance had it not been for her eyes. Hued the same bright blue as a clear summer sky at its zenith, they were the only striking feature in her otherwise commonplace appearance. \u201cMiss McKenna?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Mister Dawson?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis your first visit to Virginia City?\u201d<\/p>\n Angus\u2019 heart sank the instant his ears picked up a sharp intake of breath. Her mouth opened slightly, as her right hand flew up to that sloping place between throat and bosom.<\/p>\n \u201cMa\u2019am, I\u2019m sorry,\u201d he murmured a quick, yet heartfelt word of apology, while trying hard not to flinch away from the wild look that had suddenly come into her eyes. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to pry, honest! I didn\u2019t! It\u2019s just that . . . well, for some reason, you look kinda familiar to me . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s quite all right,\u201d Paris replied. She closed her eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. \u201cI\u2019m afraid your question took me a little by surprise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t have to answer, Ma\u2019am . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t mind, honest,\u201d she said with a weary smile. \u201cI HAVE been here before . . . once . . . . \u201d A wistful, far away look stole over those bright blue eyes. \u201cI was much younger then . . . and traveling with my family. But, that was a long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan you remember how long ago?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIndeed I can,\u201d she said, her smile fading. \u201cIt was seventeen years ago . . . three months shy of the day.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and you haven\u2019t passed through any time since?\u201d Angus cautiously pressed, half afraid she was going to faint dead away, given her pale face and wavering stance.<\/p>\n Paris silently shook her head.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s those eyes,<\/em>\u201d Angus suddenly, silently realized. \u201cI KNOW I\u2019ve seen those eyes before . . . and not seventeen years ago, either. It was more recent than that . . . a LOT more recent . . . . \u201d<\/em> Yet, try as he might, he couldn\u2019t quite recall where or when.<\/p>\n Paris, meanwhile, stole a quick glance at her elegant gold watch pendant, the only ornamentation amid her spartan attire. It was given to her by a man she once loved more than life itself. Though they had parted company long ago, the watch had become and would always remain a cherished keepsake. The time was a few minutes before noon. \u201cNow, Mister Dawson,\u201d she said, \u201cI think it\u2019s my turn to ask YOU a question.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFair enough, Miss McKenna,\u201d he acquiesced.<\/p>\n \u201cAs I just got through saying, it\u2019s been quite a while since my, ummm . . . last VISIT . . . to Virginia City. Can you tell me where I might go to eat lunch and maybe rest awhile before the stage leaves?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ma\u2019am. The International Hotel has a decent enough restaurant,\u201d he replied, eying her with an apprehensive frown. \u201cI\u2019d be more than happy to escort you there, if you wish.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI appreciate your kind offer, but I can manage,\u201d Paris said in a gentle, yet firm tone. \u201cIf you would be so kind as to direct me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCertainly. Just cross the street here and walk on down to the corner.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you very much, Mister Dawson.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re welcome,\u201d Angus replied, politely tipping his hat.<\/p>\n \u201cNow I\u2019VE got a question for you, Mister Dawson . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Angus turned and found his other passenger, a man from New York by the name of Zachary Hilliard, standing beside him.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . you by chance acquainted with a man named Cartwright?\u201d Zachary asked. \u201cI understand he owns a big spread somewhere hereabouts . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou talking about Ben Cartwright?\u201d Angus queried, with eyebrow slightly upraised. \u201cOf the Ponderosa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Zachary replied. \u201cYou know him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know him enough to speak to in passing, I s\u2019pose,\u201d Angus said with an indifferent shrug. \u201cYou a friend of his?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA friend of the son of an old business acquaintance, actually,\u201d Zachary confessed. \u201cMy friend\u2019s, um, father . . . well, he\u2019s been telling me for a number of years now that if I ever have occasion to visit Virginia City, I should stop in and say hello to Ben Cartwright and his three sons.\u201d He paused. \u201cI trust they\u2019re all well?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright\u2019s doing well enough, so far as I know,\u201d Angus replied. \u201cSo are his younger boys. Adam, though . . . I\u2019ve not seen HIM in a dog\u2019s age.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAdam\u2019s the eldest?\u201d<\/p>\n Angus nodded. \u201cHe left a number of years ago, to seek his own fortune, I imagine,\u201d he said. \u201cI understand he traveled some, then settled himself down with a gal somewhere out in California . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSan Francisco, perhaps?\u201d<\/p>\n Angus frowned. \u201cI\u2019ve heard people say where Adam\u2019s living now, but for the life of me, I can\u2019t recall, exactly,\u201d he said, \u201cbut I DO know it\u2019s not San Francisco.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see,\u201d Zachary murmured softly. \u201cMy friend\u2019s father said something about Mister Cartwright adopting a daughter recently?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, though it\u2019s not been all that recent,\u201d Angus replied. \u201cIt\u2019s been . . . four . . . maybe five years ago, now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and HER name is?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStacy.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary smiled. \u201cYes, that\u2019s right . . . Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI understand Mister Cartwright and his boys, Hoss and Joe that is, met her out at Fort Charlotte,\u201d Angus blithely rambled on.<\/p>\n \u201cFort Charlotte?\u201d Zachary queried with eyebrow slightly upraised.<\/p>\n Angus nodded. \u201cThe fort\u2019s situated a couple of miles or so from a little town called Mormon Springs,\u201d he continued. \u201cYou know it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve heard of it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI heard the girl was raised by a family of Paiutes, but I don\u2019t know anything more than that,\u201d Angus blithely rambled on. \u201cAs far as I can see, she\u2019s a good kid, nice \u2018n polite . . . respectful of her elders, though some of the ladies here in town think she\u2019s too much of a tomboy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou intend to pay him a visit?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo I intend to, uhhh . . . pay . . . WHO a visit?\u201d Zachary queried, taken aback by the stagecoach driver\u2019s question.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright,\u201d Angus replied. \u201cDo you intend to pay him a visit while you\u2019re here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI, uhhh . . . thought I might . . . umm, time permitting, of course,\u201d Zachary replied. Though he looked Angus square in the face, his eyes fell just short of meeting the stagecoach driver\u2019s gaze. \u201cI have some business to take care of first, of course.\u201d Those last words, hastily added as an after thought, tumbled out in a disconcerted rush. \u201cI . . . don\u2019t suppose you could, um . . . tell me the way?\u201d<\/p>\n Angus shook his head. \u201cI don\u2019t live in Virginia City. I live out Carson way, and though I\u2019ve like as not passed through Ponderosa land one time or another, I\u2019ve never had occasion to visit the Cartwrights, so I can\u2019t tell you exactly,\u201d he said apologetically. \u201cBut you just ask anybody who DOES live here. If the first person you ask can\u2019t direct you, chances are he\u2019ll know someone who can.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d Zachary murmured softly. \u201cThank you so much. You\u2019ve been most helpful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. Sure.\u201d For a brief, disconcerting moment, Angus felt a little apprehensive about having rambled on and on and on about the Cartwrights\u2019 business just now. \u201cAwww . . . come off it!\u201d<\/em> he silently castigated himself. \u201cYou\u2019re imagining things! People are ALWAYS asking questions about the Cartwrights . . . why\u2019s now any different?\u201d<\/em> He had no satisfactory answer to that question, yet, try as he might, he couldn\u2019t quite shake that vague, nebulous uneasiness that seemed to have taken hold of him.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Dawson.\u201d<\/p>\n The sound of Zachary Hilliard\u2019s voice, speaking tersely, his syllables clipped, startled Angus from his troubled reverie.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s the third time I\u2019ve called to you,\u201d Zachary admonished, sparing no pains to conceal his annoyance.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, Mister Hilliard,\u201d Angus meekly stammered out an apology. \u201cJust slipped into a bit of wool gathering for a moment. What can I do for you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe lady who got on with me in Freedonia . . . . \u201d Zachary turned to watch Paris McKenna, as she cautiously stepped from the board sidewalk into the street. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I\u2019ve forgotten her name . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s McKenna,\u201d Angus replied. \u201cMiss Paris McKenna.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCould it be?\u201d<\/em> Zachary silently wondered, with an anxious frown. He remembered meeting another woman by the same name, briefly, many years ago.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss McKenna\u2019s traveling on to San Francisco,\u201d Angus blithely rambled on. \u201cHas a job waiting for her, so she says . . . been real anxious to get there, too, what with the delays we\u2019ve had . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I imagine she would be,\u201d Zachary murmured softly, feeling a small measure of relief. \u201cMister Dawson?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Mister Hilliard?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d like you to fetch my luggage down from the top of the stage,\u201d Zachary replied, mollified slightly by the driver\u2019s apology. \u201cI have some business to take care of, as I said before, and I\u2019m thinking better done, sooner rather than later. I\u2019ll be taking another stage to San Francisco in a few days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Angus grunted, before turning to clamber up on top of the stage.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Paris McKenna, in the mean time, made her way across the road, with head bowed, and eyes glued to her feet. \u201cSeventeen years . . . . \u201d she mused silently. \u201cSeventeen years, since I last\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n Memories of another life, long past, began to rise, unwanted and uninvited, to the forefront of her thoughts . . . . \u201cMa\u2019am, are you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris cautiously opened her eyes and found herself staring into the beefy face of a large, muscular man, wearing a white ten-gallon hat. An anxious frown knotted his brow.<\/p>\n \u201cM-Ma\u2019am . . . . ?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . f-fine! I\u2019m fine,\u201d Paris gasped. She shook her head, and took a deep breath. \u201cPlease excuse me . . . it\u2019s MY fault, just a silly bit of wool ga\u2014 \u201d As she glanced up, her words of apology suddenly died in her throat.<\/p>\n \u201cM-Miss Paris?!\u201d His concern for her well being gave way to astonishment. \u201cMiss Paris, is that really you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, uh . . . Eric?\u201d Paris murmured in dismay.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ma\u2019am.\u201d Astonishment, in turn, gave way to a smile of pure delight. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll be danged! When did YOU return to Virginia City?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI-I haven\u2019t actually,\u201d Paris replied. \u201cI\u2019m just passing through . . . on my way to . . . to San Francisco.\u201d<\/p>\n Delight faded into mild disappointment. \u201cI sure hope y\u2019 can get out t\u2019 the Ponderosa while you\u2019re here,\u201d Hoss Cartwright said. \u201cI know Pa \u2018n Joe would love t\u2019 see ya again.\u201d<\/p>\n A cold, heavy lump began to coalesce deep in the pit of her stomach. His pa was the very last person in the world she wanted to see. \u201cOh, Eric, I-I wish I could,\u201d Paris stammered, lying through her teeth. \u201cBut, that won\u2019t be possible. The stage leaves at half past three. I\u2019ll only be here long enough for the driver to change horses, and p-pick up the mail.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, maybe you can come out another time, when you can stay longer,\u201d Hoss said affably. \u201cY\u2019 had lunch yet?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Paris said quietly. \u201cI was just going down to the International Hotel. The driver said they have a good enough restaurant.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat they do,\u201d Hoss agreed. \u201cBut, not as good as Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think ANYBODY\u2019S as good as Hop Sing,\u201d Paris admitted. \u201cEric . . . . \u201d she had always called him by his given name, \u201c . . . why don\u2019t you join me? That way . . . well, the two of US can have a brief visit before I leave.\u201d As she uttered the words of invitation, she had the momentary, disorienting feeling of standing outside her body watching it move and talk like a marionette in the hands of a skilled puppeteer. How could her own voice and lips betray her so cruelly?<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Ma\u2019am, I will,\u201d Hoss accepted the invitation eagerly. He gently took her arm and unobtrusively steered her across the street. Silence, for her strained and unsettling, fell between them.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben Cartwright stepped out of the bank and found his youngest son, Joe, and daughter, Stacy, waiting with the buckboard, its back loaded with enough dry goods to last out the next couple of months.<\/p>\n \u201cReady to go when you are, Pa,\u201d Joe declared with a broad grin.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be ready as soon as we collect Hoss,\u201d Ben said, glancing around. His middle son was nowhere in sight. \u201cDo either of you happen to know where he is?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI saw him crossing the street, down there by the stage depot,\u201d Stacy replied pointing. \u201cHe was with some lady.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah?\u201d Joe queried with a devilish gleam in his eyes. \u201cA lady, eh? Anyone WE know, Stace?\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy shook her head. \u201cI\u2019VE never seen her before,\u201d she said. \u201cIn fact, I\u2019m pretty sure I saw her get off the stage when it came in. She and Hoss were headed in the direction of the hotel.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen was this?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cJust a few minutes ago,\u201d Stacy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cYou want me to go get him, Pa?\u201d Joe asked with a sly grin.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I\u2019LL go,\u201d Ben immediately decided, knowing all too well that the look on Joe\u2019s face and the impish sparkle in those emerald green eyes almost always meant trouble. \u201cYou and Stacy wait here.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cSo. How have you been, Eric? Since we last saw each other?\u201d Paris asked, after she and Hoss had been seated and placed their order. Her words tumbled out in a disconcerted rush.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been fine, Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss replied. His initial delight at running into an old friend literally, had slowly given way to uneasy concern. He had seen more meat on the corpse of a wild animal that had lain for weeks in the desert than his companion had on her bones. Her pale skin, thinned to an alarming translucence, the dark circles under her eyes, the halting step all belonged on a person at least twice her age. Had it not been for the watch pendant she wore around her neck, Hoss doubted he would have recognized her. How had the beautiful, warm, vivacious, loving, and passionate Paris McKenna, he remembered, turned into the old, sad, careworn, distant woman seated across the table from him?<\/p>\n \u201cHow about the banker\u2019s daughter? As I recall, you had a real king sized crush on her when . . . when I was here last. . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou . . . talkin\u2019 \u2018bout Margie Owens?\u201d [1]<\/p>\n \u201cYes. Margie Owens. I couldn\u2019t think of her name just now to save my life.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMargie married someone else,\u201d Hoss replied, with a wistful half smile. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t a happy marriage, I\u2019m afraid. She was lookin\u2019 t\u2019 him t\u2019 show her the world, while he was lookin\u2019 real hard at her pa\u2019s money. She left him . . . \u2018n not long after, she . . . she died givin\u2019 birth t\u2019 their daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Eric, I\u2019m so sorry,\u201d Paris murmured softly, as she reached over and gently placed her gloved hand overtop his. \u201cPlease, forgive me. I didn\u2019t mean to open up old wounds.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou had no way o\u2019 knowin\u2019, Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss said quietly, \u201c \u2018n seein\u2019 as t\u2019 how I WAS real sweet on her when you was here last, I s\u2019pose it\u2019s only natural you\u2019d ask.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019s the rest of the family?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAdam\u2019s livin\u2019 out in Sacramento now,\u201d Hoss replied, as a waiter set a cup of coffee before him, and a cup of hot tea before Paris.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s HE doing with himself these days?\u201d Paris asked, as she reached for the dainty porcelain creamer at the center of the table.<\/p>\n \u201cKeepin\u2019 himself busier \u2018n bee, Ma\u2019am,\u201d Hoss replied. \u201cHe\u2019s an architect . . . he \u2018n another man he went t\u2019 Harvard with have got their own firm, \u2018n from what Adam says in his letters there\u2019s plenty o\u2019 work to do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGrand! That\u2019s grand,\u201d Paris replied, unconsciously lapsing into her old ways of speaking. \u201cWhatever happed to that woman HE was so find of?\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss smiled. \u201cWhich one are y\u2019 talkin\u2019 about, Miss Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019ve been that many?\u201d she queried wryly, without missing a beat.<\/p>\n Hoss grinned. \u201cOl\u2019 Adam can be quite the ladies\u2019 man, when he wants t\u2019 be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Paris said slowly. An errant thought about an apple not falling far from the tree flitted through her mind . . . . She groaned inwardly upon feeling the sudden rush of blood to her face. \u201cYes,\u201d she said very quickly. \u201cYes. I, ummm . . . suppose he can be at that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . \u2018course he ain\u2019t doin\u2019 much o\u2019 that these days,\u201d Hoss continued.<\/p>\n \u201cConfirmed bachelor is he?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Ma\u2019am,\u201d Hoss replied, smiling broadly. \u201cHis wife\u2019d kill him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe . . . didn\u2019t end up marryin\u2019 that young woman he was courtin\u2019 so hot \u2018n heavy while he was attending school in Boston . . . did he?\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss shook his head. \u201cHe met a real fine gal out in Sacramento, \u2018n married HER. She\u2019s not only pretty as a picture, but smart, too . . . just like Adam. I only met her twice . . . first time when Pa, Joe, and me went to Sacramento for their wedding, \u2018n the second time, when she \u2018n Adam came t\u2019 visit before the kids came along. I really liked her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cKids?!\u201d Paris echoed.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow MANY kids?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAdam \u2018n Teresa are the proud pa \u2018n ma o\u2019 two fine, strappin\u2019, energetic young \u2019ns,\u201d Hoss replied.<\/p>\n \u201cIf either one or both, heaven forbid, has a fraction of the energy your youngest brother did . . . I\u2019ll bet they keep Adam on his toes,\u201d Paris remarked. An amused smile tugged hard at the corner of her mouth as she remembered some of Joe Cartwright\u2019s wild escapades at the tender age of ten \u201cgoin\u2019 on thirty-one,\u201d as her paternal grandmother might have said.<\/p>\n \u201cYep. All the time. Leastwise, that\u2019s what Adam says in his letters,\u201d Hoss replied with a chuckle. \u201cThey named the boy Benjamin Eduardo, for his grandpas, \u2018n the girl Dolores Elizabeth for both her grandmas.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s lovely,\u201d Paris said with all sincerity, as she raised the creamer to pour a bit of its contents into her tea. Suddenly, her hand trembled. The creamer slipped from her fingers and crashed onto the table, drenching her dark blue suit with cream.<\/p>\n Hoss immediately grabbed his napkin and began to mop up the table, while Paris sat there, stunned. The waiter discreetly returned to the table with a pitcher of water and a handful of cloth napkins.<\/p>\n \u201cMa\u2019am?\u201d the waiter gently placed his hand on her shoulder.<\/p>\n Paris gasped and started violently, nearly hitting her head against the pitcher of water in his hand.<\/p>\n Hoss took the napkins from the waiter and quietly asked him to leave the pitcher of water. The waiter nodded and complied, then quickly withdrew.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris?!\u201d Hoss frowned. Though she had her head bowed, he could plainly see that she was crying. \u201cMiss Paris . . . you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris swallowed, and sheepishly reached for one of the napkins in his hand. \u201cI\u2019m fine, Eric, really,\u201d she said, forcing a smile. She wiped away the last of her tears, then started to work on her skirt. \u201cI-I\u2019m just tired, that\u2019s all. It\u2019s been a very long, arduous journey.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure that\u2019s all it is?\u201d Hoss queried doubtfully.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I\u2019m sure,\u201d she said wearily.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben Cartwright entered the International Hotel restaurant and approached Gretchen Braun, the restaurant manager and an old friend. She was a buxom woman, about his age. She wore a print dress, of blue flowers and ribbons on top of a field of white, and a fresh, clean white apron. Her salt and pepper hair was styled in a French twist. Since the death of her husband six years ago, she had run the restaurant with an iron hand, transforming it from a greasy spoon to fine dining enjoyed by resident and visitor alike. \u201cGretchen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen Cartwright, long time no see!\u201d Gretchen Braun exclaimed with surprised delight. The soft accent of her native Bavaria remained as it had been when she and her husband first set foot upon American shores four plus decades ago. \u201cWould you like a table?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot today, Gretchen,\u201d Ben declined. \u201cI\u2019m looking for Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe came in a little while ago with a woman,\u201d Gretchen replied. \u201cThey\u2019re right over there, next to the window.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben spotted them immediately. He studied the woman for a moment, frowning. Something about her struck a distressingly familiar chord within. \u201cGretchen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know who that woman is?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n Gretchen shook her head and shrugged. \u201c \u2018Fraid not, Ben.\u201d<\/p>\n He thanked her, then made his way across the room to the table occupied by his middle son, Hoss, and the disconcerting mystery woman. \u201cHoss, I\u2014 \u201d Paris glanced up sharply. Their eyes met. Ben\u2019s voice trailed away to stunned silence.<\/p>\n \u201cP-Pa? Y-You remember M-Miss Paris . . . don\u2019t ya?\u201d Hoss awkwardly tried to break the silence.<\/p>\n \u201cY-yes, yes, of course . . . . \u201d Ben stammered.<\/p>\n Paris rose none too steadily to her feet. \u201cEric, I think I\u2019d better take a rain check on that lunch,\u201d she quickly. \u201cI-I just remembered some things I need to buy before the stage leaves.\u201d She turned and favored Ben with a wan, embarrassed smile. \u201cIt . . . it was good seeing you, too, Ben . . . if only for a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSorry you hafta rush off, Miss Paris. Maybe next time . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-yes, Eric . . . m-maybe next time.\u201d Paris turned, with every intention of walking out of the restaurant and finding a notions shop to hide in until the stage left. As she turned, a wave of dizziness hit. She reached out an arm to steady herself.<\/p>\n Hoss gently stepped over and took her other arm. \u201cMiss Paris, you sure you\u2019re all right? Maybe you\u2019d better sit down, \u2018n\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n Her eyes rolled up under her eyelids. With a soft moan, she collapsed and fell against Hoss in a dead faint.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss, take her up to room number 208.\u201d Gretchen Braun was right there at his elbow. \u201cThe door\u2019s unlocked. Ben, I\u2019ve already sent Luis to fetch the doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Gretchen,\u201d Ben said gratefully. \u201cHoss, you take Miss Paris and go on up. I\u2019ll be back after I let Joe and Stacy know\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet Joe and Stacy know . . . what?\u201d It was Joe.<\/p>\n Ben turned and found himself staring into the anxious eyes of his youngest son and only daughter.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, I know you asked us to wait, but . . . . \u201d Joe began. His eyes moved from Ben\u2019s face to the limp form in Hoss\u2019 arms. \u201cHoss, who\u2014?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris, Joe,\u201d Hoss said.<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s eyes went round with astonishment.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, who\u2019s Miss Paris?\u201d Stacy queried sotto voce, her sky blue eyes riveted to Paris\u2019 face. For some inexplicable reason, she felt afraid.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris is an old friend of the family,\u201d Ben said gently, hoping to quell the sudden anxiety he sensed in his daughter. \u201cIt seems she was passing through on the stage and suddenly took ill.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnything WE can do?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben shook his head. \u201cMrs. Braun\u2019s already sent for the doctor. Why don\u2019t you and Stacy go on home and unload the supplies. Tell Hop Sing that Hoss and I should be home by supper time, and that we\u2019ll more than likely be bringing home a guest.\u201d His eyes strayed over to the still insensate Paris McKenna, and lingered.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSince it looks as if Miss Paris might be stayin\u2019 with us a while . . . would you mind stoppin\u2019 by the stage depot \u2018n pickin\u2019 up her luggage?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo problem,\u201d Joe grunted. \u201cCom\u2019n, Stace.\u201d<\/p>\n No reply. She stood, unmoving, staring down at Paris McKenna\u2019s flaccid face with a morbid fascination.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Kid . . . . \u201d Joe took her by the shoulder and shook her gently.<\/p>\n Stacy started, and turned towards Joe.<\/p>\n \u201cCom\u2019n, let\u2019s go.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Stacy Cartwright rode in the buckboard beside her brother in utter silence, her thoughts fixed on the woman Hoss had identified as Miss Paris. She had never so much as laid eyes on her before this afternoon; never even heard of her. That last, in and of itself, was odd, given that she was supposed to be an old friend of the family. But, there was something beyond all that. Something very compelling that had begun to stir up odd, unsettling feelings. Her fear deepened.<\/p>\n \u201cStacy LOUISE . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n The sound of that hated middle name stirred her abruptly from her troubled musings. \u201cJoseph Francis Cartwright, you know I HATE it when you call me that!\u201d she rounded on him furiously.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with Louise? I kind of like it!\u201d Joe teased. \u201cIn fact, I like it so much, I\u2019m gonna start calling you LOO-WEESE from now on, instead of Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy stuck her tongue out at him, then lapsed into stony silence, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, Stace,\u201d Joe immediately apologized, taken aback by her angry, silent response. \u201cI\u2019ve been trying for the last half mile to get through to you, but you\u2019ve been stuck out there somewhere on cloud nine. It was the only way I could think of to break through.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d she murmured contritely.<\/p>\n \u201cYou all right, Kid?\u201d Joe queried, a worried frown knotting his brow. \u201cYou\u2019ve been awfully quiet . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe, who\u2019s this Miss Paris?\u201d Stacy blurted out the question. \u201cBesides being an old friend of the family?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOur pa met her pa . . . I think it was in Virginia City,\u201d Joe replied, \u201cabout two . . . maybe three years after my ma died. He and a couple of other men from Fort Charlotte\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you say . . . F-Fort Charlotte?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSame place where . . . where you guys m-met me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah!\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy\u2019s sense of foreboding deepened.<\/p>\n \u201cFort Charlotte started buying Ponderosa stock . . . horses AND cattle back when I was a little kid . . . knee high to a grasshopper as Hoss might say,\u201d Joe continued. \u201cThey were regular customers pretty much for the better part of twenty years, at least . . . maybe a little bit more.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey don\u2019t buy stock from us anymore . . . do they.\u201d It was a statement of fact rather than a question.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Joe shook his head. \u201cIf memory serves, they stopped buying from us about a year or so after you came to live with us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid they ever say why?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNope . . . and between you \u2018n me, I STILL don\u2019t understand why,\u201d Joe said with a bewildered frown. \u201cI saw the letter Major Baldwin sent Pa, going on and on and on about how our horses and beef were the finest in the whole state of Nevada . . . but they had found another supplier and would be purchasing from HIM in the future.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat doesn\u2019t make any sense . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re right, Kiddo. It doesn\u2019t make a lick of sense, but . . . . \u201d He shrugged. \u201cGoing back to the matter of Sergeant Gerald McKenna . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris\u2019 father?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYep. He was the man in charge of the horses at Fort Charlotte,\u201d Joe explained. \u201cThe way Pa \u2018n Adam told it later, that man knew good horseflesh when he saw it. He and Pa struck up a deal right then and there. Over time, Pa, Adam, and Hoss became acquainted with Mrs. McKenna and their kids . . . three daughters and a son, if memory serves . . . until Sergeant McKenna left the army.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about you?\u201d Stacy asked. \u201cDidn\u2019t you get to know the McKenna family, too?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot as well as Pa, Adam, and Hoss, being that I\u2019m quite a bit YOUNGER than they are,\u201d Joe replied with a bare hint of a saucy grin. \u201cSergeant McKenna came to the Ponderosa three or four times a year to purchase stock in the company of a couple of men from the fort and about a half dozen civilian drovers, they had hired. He brought his son along a time or two, but his wife and daughters . . . never.\u201d He paused for a moment, then added, \u201cWhen he was here, I made sure I stayed well out of his way as much as possible.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was a little afraid of him,\u201d Joe freely admitted. \u201cHe could turn meaner \u2018n a rattle snake at the drop of a hat, if he was of a mind . . . and most of the time he was around, he . . . WAS . . . of a mind. I don\u2019t think he cared all that much for kids, either.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you ever go to Fort Charlotte with Pa, Adam, and Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot until I was sixteen. That\u2019s when I left school and went to work for Pa full time,\u201d Joe said. \u201cSergeant McKenna had left the army by then . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d Stacy murmured softly. \u201cDo you know what happened to Sergeant McKenna and his family after he left the army?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRight after he left the army, he and his family went out to California to look for gold,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cThere WAS a rush on, if I\u2019m remembering things right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGreenhorn Creek?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. How\u2019d YOU know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe studied about that in school,\u201d Stacy replied. \u201cThat would\u2019ve been about a year or so before I was born . . . whenever THAT was . . . exactly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, Kid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018S ok, Joe. I may not know when my real birthday is, but I have the date Pa gave me,\u201d Stacy said, \u201cand THAT\u2019S plenty good enough for me.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe smiled. \u201cThat\u2019s plenty good enough for me, too, Stace.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid Miss Paris\u2019 pa ever find gold?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . don\u2019t know,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cIf he did, no one ever said. At any rate, Miss Paris and one of her younger sisters ended up stopping over at the Ponderosa on their way out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about her ma and pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey went on to California with their youngest daughter, Elsie.\u201d<\/p>\n A bewildered frown creased the smooth plain of Stacy\u2019s brow. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t THEY stay, too?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI imagine Sergeant McKenna was anxious to reach Greenhorn Creek,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cSo they left Miss Paris and her sister here, with Doc Martin. When Pa found out they were in Virginia City . . . . \u201d He grinned. \u201c . . . well, you know Pa. He insisted they come out to the Ponderosa and stay with us until Mattie was feeling better. Somehow, I don\u2019t think Pa had to work all that hard to convince Miss Paris.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Joe replied with an emphatic nod of his head, \u201cand looking back, Miss Paris\u2019 sister, Matilda\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMatilda?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYep.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy made a face. \u201cYuck! Poor woman! THAT\u2019S even worse than Louise.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe smiled, relieved to see Stacy acting more like herself. \u201cAt any rate, Matilda . . . Mattie, as she preferred to be called . . . didn\u2019t look all that sick, leastwise not to ME, AND she made a real rapid recovery to boot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you saying that Mattie McKenna FAKED being sick?\u201d Stacy was intrigued, despite her growing uneasiness.<\/p>\n \u201cYep.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll GET to why . . . IF you\u2019ll stop interrupting me with questions every two seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy stuck out her tongue.<\/p>\n Joe returned the gesture. \u201cThe why of it all should be obvious, Little Sister! The reason Mattie McKenna suddenly took, ummm \u2018ill\u2019 . . . was, so she and Miss Paris could stay here in Virginia City . . . for a li\u2019l while at least.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThink about it, Kid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDadburn it, Grandpa! If you don\u2019t tell me, I\u2019m gonna tickle you silly,\u201d Stacy threatened.<\/p>\n \u201cBoy! Talk about dense\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe . . . . \u201d She said in a low, menacing tone as she pointed a circling finger towards his abdomen.<\/p>\n \u201cAll right!\u201d Joe snapped, as he dropped his elbow down protectively over the lower portion of his torso. \u201cThere was a special someone she wanted to spend some time with.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Mattie?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo! Miss Paris.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOoohhh-kay . . . who did Miss Paris want to spend some time with?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow just hold your horses, Miss Stacy LOO-WEESE! I\u2019ll get to THAT in my own good time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOk, LITTLE Joe!\u201d she sighed disparagingly. \u201cI\u2019ll TRY to be patient!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat you\u2019ll TRY, Little Sister, is the patience of a saint,\u201d Joe retorted good-naturedly. \u201cNow where was I?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa insisted that Miss Paris and Mattie stay at the Ponderosa while Mattie recovered from an illness that wasn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMattie stayed two weeks,\u201d Joe resumed the tale. \u201cAs for Miss Paris . . . she never made it to California.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe didn\u2019t?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNope.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa and Hoss took Miss Paris and Mattie to the stage depot in Virginia City. Pa said later that Miss Paris insisted they go on about their business . . . that she and Mattie would be all right. So, they did. Miss Paris put her sister on the stage, and came back to the Ponderosa, that very night. Pa . . . Hoss . . . and . . . and Hop Sing, too . . . . \u201d Joe laughed uproariously, \u201c . . . the looks on their f-faces . . . . Oh, Stacy, it was priceless! I wish you could\u2019ve seen it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMe, too,\u201d Stacy said, grinning in spite of the anxiety she felt within. She had found that high-pitched, rapid-fire laughter of his to be highly contagious ever since she had met and joined the Cartwright family almost five years ago. \u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Stace?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the look on Adam\u2019s face?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere wasn\u2019t one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere wasn\u2019t?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNope,\u201d Joe said chuckling. \u201cHe was in Boston by then, attending Harvard University. When Miss Paris and Mattie came to visit, he would have been at the beginning of his senior year.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSpeaking for myself, I was happier than two peas in a pod, to quote our big brother again,\u201d Joe continued, glad to see the smile on Stacy\u2019s face. \u201cI was absolutely besotted with her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?!\u201d Stacy queried, surprised. \u201cYou?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do I have the distinct feeling I\u2019ve just been insulted?\u201d Joe demanded with mock severity.<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to insult you,\u201d Stacy protested. \u201cIt\u2019s just that . . . well, you had to have been nine or ten, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo . . . \u2018way back when you were nine or ten\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhaddya mean \u2018way back when I was nine or ten?\u201d Joe demanded in melodramatic tones of mock outrage. \u201cYOU make it sound as if I\u2019m positively ancient.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou ARE,\u201d Stacy quipped. \u201cI mean . . . face it, GRANDPA! Come next birthday, you\u2019re gonna be all the way up in your LATE middle twenties.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmpf! YOU may be about to turn sixteen, Kiddo, but there\u2019s nothing sweet about it, no siree!\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy smiled and cheerfully stuck out her tongue.<\/p>\n Joe responded by thumbing up his nose.<\/p>\n \u201cSeriously though . . . you told me yourself when you were that age, you thought girls stunk to high heaven,\u201d Stacy said.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . except for Lotus O\u2019Toole,\u201d Joe added, then smiled. \u201cMiss Paris, however, WAS no girl. Not no how . . . not no way! I was definitely smitten.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWith a woman old enough to be your ma?!\u201d<\/p>\n Joe had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud at the astonished look on her face. \u201cShe\u2019s not THAT old, Kiddo,\u201d he said. \u201cOld enough to be my older sister, or babysitter perhaps . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Stacy favored her brother with a withering, jaundiced glare. \u201cYou joshin\u2019 me, Grandpa?\u201d she accused.<\/p>\n Joe shook his head. \u201cNope,\u201d he replied. \u201cShe\u2019s only a year or two younger than Adam . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe LOOKS more like she\u2019s PA\u2019S age.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have to admit that shocked me, too, Stacy,\u201d Joe said quietly. \u201cIf Hoss hadn\u2019t said who she was . . . well, I\u2019d have never recognized her in a million years.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo . . . why did she come back to the Ponderosa . . . after putting her sister on the stage?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cShe was a lady in love.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot with you, of course.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . leastwise, not in the way YOU\u2019RE thinking,\u201d Joe said, smiling at the memory. \u201cShe looked upon me as a \u2018delightfully naughty, yet thoroughly loveable little brother.\u2019 HER words, Kid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmm. Not quite the way I\u2019D describe you,\u201d Stacy quipped.<\/p>\n \u201cAll I gotta say to that is . . . the only thing worse than the way YOU\u2019D describe ME is the way I\u2019D describe YOU,\u201d Joe cheerfully retorted.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and if either one of us said it, Pa would wash our mouths out with some real good, strong lye soap.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe looked over at her, grinned, and stuck out his tongue.<\/p>\n Stacy giggled and returned the gesture. \u201cJoe?\u201d she ventured, as her laughter began to subside.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid she fall in love with Hoss?\u201d Stacy asked, remembering the gentle concern her biggest brother had shown Miss Paris at the hotel restaurant.<\/p>\n \u201cNope.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and she couldn\u2019t have fallen in love with Adam since he was in Boston going to . . . Harvard University . . . is that right?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe grinned. \u201cRight as rain, Kiddo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat means . . . . \u201d Her voice trailed away to stunned silence as revelation suddenly dawned. She slowly turned her head and looked over at her brother, her face a shade or two paler than was the norm, and her eyes round with shocked horror. \u201cY-You mean she . . . she . . . that she actually f-fell in love with . . . with . . . . ?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know YOU don\u2019t see him in that way, but Pa can be quite the ladies\u2019 man himself . . . when he wants to be,\u201d Joe said gently, unable to quite fathom the whys and the wherefores for the horrified look on her face.<\/p>\n \u201cI KNOW that,\u201d Stacy said crossly. \u201cIt\u2019s just that . . . that . . . . \u201d She exhaled a sigh borne of pure and simple frustration. For some odd strange reason, the idea of Pa and Miss Paris having once been in love frightened her. She wished more than anything for the words to explain that to Joe, but . . . how in the world COULD she explain it to him, when she couldn\u2019t even begin to explain it to herself?<\/p>\n \u201cIt . . . actually wasn\u2019t as bad as all that,\u201d Joe continued, treading carefully. \u201cI mean she wasn\u2019t a gold digger out for his money. She honest and truly DID love Pa . . . and he loved her, too. So much, in fact, I thought sure they were going to get married.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cR-Really?\u201d Stacy ventured hesitantly, in a voice barely audible.<\/p>\n Joe nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, uhhh . . . what happened? Why didn\u2019t they?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe shrugged. \u201cI don\u2019t know, Kid. She just, all of a sudden, up and left without a word . . . a warning . . . without even saying good-bye. We woke up one morning and she was gone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d Stacy pressed. \u201cDid she and Pa have a fight or something?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t honestly know WHAT happened between them,\u201d Joe said somberly. \u201cPa never said. All I DO know is that her leaving like she did hurt Pa very badly. It took him a long time to get over her.\u201d He fell silent for a moment. \u201cStacy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t have to worry, Joe,\u201d Stacy said. \u201cI won\u2019t ask Pa any questions about Miss Paris.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPromise?\u201d<\/p>\n A stinging, angry retort sprang to mind, but the earnest look on his face stopped her from uttering it. \u201cI promise,\u201d she said in a voice barely audible.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . .\u201d Hoss said very softly, \u201cshe\u2019s comin\u2019 \u2018round now . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris McKenna sighed contentedly. She was twenty years old again. All of the intervening years, and the grief, the heartbreak, the tragedy that had come with them, all ceased to be, like a bad dream in the face of morning sunshine. Her sister, Mattie, had gone on to California to join their parents and their youngest sister, Elsie. Hoss was out with the foreman and a couple of the hands riding fence. Joe was in school and Hop Sing had gone into town to pick up supplies and visit with his father. That left her all alone in the house with the man she loved more than life . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cParis.\u201d<\/p>\n The happy dream vanished. She was thirty-six years of age, very soon to be thirty-seven. The beautiful twenty year old, so hopeful, so full of life, was gone, as if she had never been. In her place was a woman, filled with bitterness and regret, made old before her time by the hard life circumstance had forced upon her. Most heart wrenching of all, the days . . . the weeks . . . the months, and . . . the years that had passed between then and now, once again stretched between her and Ben Cartwright like an abyss, far too wide and deep to ever be crossed.<\/p>\n Her eyelids flickered, and opened slowly with a resigned reluctance. Looking up, she found herself gazing into the anxious faces of Ben and Eric Cartwright. \u201cW-what happened?\u201d Paris groaned.<\/p>\n \u201cYou and Hoss were about to have lunch when you passed out,\u201d Ben said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Paris murmured softly. \u201cYes. I remember, I was waiting for\u2014 \u201d Suddenly, her eyes went round with horror. \u201cOh my goodness!\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cWhat time is it?\u201d She abruptly sat up, and in so doing set the room spinning before her eyes. With a soft, agonized moan, she collapsed back against the pillows.<\/p>\n \u201cLet that be a lesson to you,\u201d Ben chided her sternly. \u201cWhen you DO get up, you\u2019ll do it slow and easy, unless you want to risk the possibility of fainting again.\u201d He paused, to allow her a moment to absorb the import his words. \u201cAs for the stage, it left an hour and a half ago.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh no!\u201d she moaned.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, don\u2019t you worry none, Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss said. \u201cI asked Joe \u2018n Stacy t\u2019 get your luggage.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTh-thank you, Eric,\u201d she said in a small, barely audible voice. \u201cWhen does the next stage leave?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s one leaving tomorrow morning, but you\u2019re NOT going to be on it,\u201d Ben said firmly.<\/p>\n \u201cBen, I HAVE to get to San Francisco,\u201d she said, \u201cas soon as possible. I have a job waiting, and I\u2019m already two days behind because of unforeseen delays on the stage line.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis, you\u2019re not fit to travel, let alone work,\u201d Ben argued. \u201cThe doctor said\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoctor!\u201d Paris exclaimed weakly. \u201cOh, no! Ben, surely you didn\u2019t call a doctor?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMrs. Braun did,\u201d Ben said. \u201cBut, if she hadn\u2019t, I most certainly would have.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy? I told you I\u2019m just worn out from the trip,\u201d Paris wailed. \u201cThat\u2019s all!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, that\u2019s NOT all,\u201d Ben argued. \u201cThe doctor said, at the very least, you\u2019re suffering from exhaustion and not eating properly. You need a long rest, and plenty of good food.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll have plenty of time to eat and rest when I reach San Francisco.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll have plenty of time to eat and rest right NOW,\u201d Ben countered. \u201cYou\u2019re coming back with us to the Ponderosa.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris\u2019 heart sank. \u201cOh no . . . no! Ben, I can\u2019t!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . it would be too much trouble, for one thing,\u201d Paris argued. There was a desperate edge to her voice. \u201cIt would. I . . . no! No! I c-can\u2019t put you and your boys out like that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNonsense,\u201d Ben countered. \u201cYou won\u2019t be any trouble at all. We have plenty of room\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt would be charity, Ben,\u201d she said adamantly. \u201cI won\u2019t take charity! Never! Never AGAIN!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou and that damnable pride of yours!\u201d Ben swore, his exasperation getting the better of him.<\/p>\n Paris recoiled as if he had struck her.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Ben immediately apologized, his voice filled with remorse. He took a deep breath and continued in a tone of voice more calm and even. \u201cParis, I\u2019m not offering charity. I\u2019m . . . I\u2019m extending an invitation to an old . . . and very dear friend.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, Ben,\u201d Paris acquiesced, her voice cracking on his name. His words and the way he had spoken them had almost thrown open that Pandora\u2019s Box once again. She sternly reminded herself that the time she and Ben Cartwright had together was long past and gone. To try and recapture it now would be monstrously unfair. He had obviously gotten over her and gone on with his life. She felt a measure of relief in that. Maybe, as the years passed, he had even found it within him to forgive her for her abrupt departure in the dead of night.<\/p>\n She, however, would never forgive herself.<\/p>\n Paris silently and firmly resolved that she would to go to the Ponderosa, rest and eat, get back her strength. She would then go on to San Francisco and out of the lives of the Cartwright Family with all haste and speed . . . forever.<\/p>\n \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben glanced up at his second son sharply. He had entirely forgotten that Hoss was still in the room.<\/p>\n \u201cTony Grainger just pulled up in front o\u2019 the hotel with that buggy \u2018n horse we\u2019ve rented . . . . \u201d Hoss announced from his place next to the window. Tony Grainger owned and operated the livery stable closest to the International Hotel. He was a gregarious young man, tall and reed slender, with brown eyes and a full head of startling carrot colored hair.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you see Miss Paris downstairs, and get her settled in the buggy,\u201d Ben suggested, feeling oddly embarrassed. \u201cWe\u2019ll leave for home as soon as I settle up with Mrs. Braun.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen, I have some money,\u201d Paris said, as Hoss gently helped her to sit up. \u201cIt\u2019s squirreled away in my wallet at the bottom of my carpet bag. It w-won\u2019t be . . . enough . . . . \u201d She had almost let slip that the little bit of money was all she had in the world. \u201cI can send whatever I need to make up the difference when I get to San Francisco.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t worry about the money right now, Paris,\u201d Ben said. \u201cI have more than enough to\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI meant what I said about taking charity,\u201d Paris said, her anger rising. The only thing she had left was her pride, damnable though it may be. Perhaps that was all she ever had that she could really and truly call her own. She was bound and determined to hold on to it, no matter what the cost. \u201cBen, I\u2019ve ALWAYS paid my way,\u201d she continued. \u201cALWAYS! I don\u2019t aim to stop now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, Paris, I\u2019ll consider it a loan,\u201d Ben said wearily . . . .<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Paris McKenna lay wide-awake in the dark guestroom, listening to the grandfather\u2019s clock downstairs strike the hour of three a.m. Outside, the moon had risen and set hours ago. A thick blanket of clouds rolled in, obscuring the light from the myriad of stars spread across the backdrop of indigo-black sky. Nearly every joint in her body ached; a sure sign of coming rain.<\/p>\n Paris gingerly rolled over onto her side, and closed her eyes with an exasperated sigh. The stagecoach journey, coupled with her chance meetings with Eric, then Ben, followed by the trip from Virginia City to the Ponderosa, had all taken a far greater toll on her dwindling energy and stamina than she cared to admit. She had almost passed out again when she walked through the door of the Cartwrights\u2019 home, sandwiched between Ben and Eric. Only through a supreme effort of will did she manage to walk the distance between the front door and the settee without collapsing.<\/p>\n Memories of her first evening at the Ponderosa had deteriorated to a hazy blur, something for which she was heartily thankful. She vaguely remembered Hop Sing at her elbow, trying to coerce her to eat. Eric kept up a lively, albeit nervous, stream of chatter about the weather, Adam and his family in Sacramento, and the local gossip. Apart from catching a few names she recognized, Paris remembered nothing of what he had said. Joe was gracious enough, but seemed distant and remote, answering in monosyllables only when addressed. Ben added a word or two once in a while to Eric\u2019s monolog, and occasionally tried to draw Stacy into the conversation to no avail. The absolute worst were the long, strained silences, during the inevitable conversational lulls.<\/p>\n The faces of Eric, Joe, and Ben slowly faded into the face the youngest member of the Cartwright family, Stacy. Apart from acknowledging their introduction, the girl never said another word the entire evening. There was something strange and compelling about her. Paris felt drawn to her, yet terrified of her at the same time. Maybe it was Stacy\u2019s eyes, the same sky blue color as her own. Or maybe it was the fact that Stacy now was around the same age poor Rose Miranda would have been, had SHE lived. Stacy\u2019s face, framed by a thick halo of dark, wavy hair and those big blue eyes, faded into the face of Rose Miranda, as an infant; a pudgy, cherubic face, with red cheeks, and enormous blue eyes, framed by a wispy halo of hair, hued a rich dark brown almost black . . . .<\/p>\n Suddenly, the lid of the Pandora\u2019s Box within flew open with the force of an exploding volcano. All the memories and feelings that she had kept locked inside, washed over her like a raging flash flood. Helpless against the onslaught, Paris turned and buried her face in the softness of the down pillow beneath her head and sobbed herself into a deep, exhausted sleep.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Stacy woke with a jolt, heart pounding and forehead glistening with cold sweat. Her palms were clammy, and her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Sleep had been fitful, interrupted by the continuous replay of a dream filled with strange, shadowy people in a place she couldn\u2019t remember, yet seemed horribly familiar. A glance at the regulator clock, hanging on the wall facing her bed, told her the time was a few minutes past five.<\/p>\n She climbed out of bed, intending to dress and go for a ride before breakfast. A good, brisk ride in the bracing early morning air always worked at clearing troublesome cobwebs out of her head. She turned toward the window, and saw, much to her dismay, that the pouring rain had just squelched her plans.<\/p>\n \u201cReading should help pass the time between now \u2018n breakfast,\u201d<\/em> Stacy mused in silence, as she turned and grabbed her robe from its place on the post at the head of her bed. She fervently hoped a good book would keep her mind well away from the disturbing images in that terrible dream. She slipped on her robe, then stepped silently from her bedroom, pausing briefly to allow her eyes a moment to adjust to the diminished light in the upstairs hallway.<\/p>\n Upon reaching the top landing, Stacy noted with a start that her father was already up, and dressed. He sat on the settee downstairs, staring morosely into the cold, empty depths of the massive gray stone fireplace that dominated the great room. A book lay open on the coffee table before him alongside a glass, half full, of whiskey. \u201cPa?!\u201d<\/p>\n Ben glanced up as Stacy started down the stairs. \u201cGood morning,\u201d he greeted her with a tired smile. \u201cYou\u2019re up early.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t get back to sleep,\u201d she replied, as she hopped down off the last step.<\/p>\n Ben motioned for her to come and sit down beside him. Stacy bounded across the room and dropped down onto the settee next to him. \u201cHmmm. From the look of you, I\u2019d say you didn\u2019t get any sleep at all,\u201d he said, noting her still wet brow with concern. \u201cYou all right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not sick, Pa,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n Ben blotted the sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief and touched it with the back of his hand. He was somewhat relieved to find her forehead cool as a cucumber.<\/p>\n \u201cI SAID I wasn\u2019t sick,\u201d Stacy said irritably.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, SOMETHING kept you awake most of the night,\u201d Ben quietly observed, \u201cand you\u2019re not usually as quiet as you were last night, unless you ARE sick.\u201d He paused. \u201cYou want to talk about it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa, how is it you always seem to know\u2014!?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cExperience that comes from raising three sons and a daughter,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n Stacy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. \u201cYou remember that awful dream I kept having when I first came?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI remember,\u201d Ben said sympathetically.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s back,\u201d she said, her voice breaking, \u201call night long! But, it\u2019s changed.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben wordlessly slipped a reassuring arm around her shoulders. He felt her nestling close in the crook of his arm, the weight of her head dropping down onto his shoulder. \u201cIt\u2019s all right, Stacy . . . it\u2019s all right. I\u2019m here. I\u2019m right here,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, Pa,\u201d Stacy murmured, grateful for the love, the comfort, and reassurance he offered through the strength of his presence, the simple touch of his arm wrapped tight about her shoulders. She closed her eyes once again and fell silent, as she worked to muster her own strength and courage.<\/p>\n \u201cThe dream started out the same way it always has,\u201d Stacy began haltingly, at length. \u201cI see the people . . . but not their faces. I feel like I SHOULD know them . . . but I can\u2019t remember. To be up front and honest? I don\u2019t WANT to remember. I just want to get away from them. Then, all of a sudden, I\u2019m some WHERE, I\u2019ve never been before . . . and yet I know it. I know where the road leads, what lies over the hill, what\u2019s around the next bend all before I get there. That\u2019s scary enough all by itself!\u201d She shuddered.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben agreed. \u201cD\u00e9ja vu can be very disconcerting, to say the least.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cD\u00e9ja . . . what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cD\u00e9ja vu,\u201d Ben repeated the words. \u201cWhat you went through in those dreams, being in a place you\u2019ve never been . . . but knowing it, is called d\u00e9ja vu.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHas it ever happened to you?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben replied, \u201cin dreams.\u201d<\/p>\n That disclosure made Stacy feel a little better. \u201cNext thing I know, I\u2019m running for my life, but I don\u2019t know who or what I\u2019m running from,\u201d she continued.<\/p>\n \u201cHow has the dream changed?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I lived with the Paiutes, Silver Moon taught me to call on her namesake, the moon,\u201d Stacy explained. \u201cThe moon would leave the sky and land on the road in front of me. I\u2019d climb inside, and the moon would rise, taking me away from whoever was chasing me.\u201d She lapsed into a long silence.<\/p>\n Ben waited patiently for her to continue.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, last night . . . last night, the moon didn\u2019t come,\u201d she said finally, her voice breaking. \u201cI called and called, just like Silver Moon taught me . . . but the moon didn\u2019t come!\u201d With that, she buried her face against Ben\u2019s shoulder and wept.<\/p>\n Ben held her, his own heart aching along with her. He wanted so much to take away the fear, the pain, and the grief that had always accompanied the dream, but knew full well he could not.<\/p>\n At length, Stacy\u2019s tears subsided. \u201cP-Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s been so long, I thought the dream had stopped for good,\u201d she said in a melancholy tone. \u201cWhy has it come back?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Ben said quietly, \u201cbut, I think I know why the moon didn\u2019t come this time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy, Pa?\u201d she asked, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.<\/p>\n Ben handed her a handkerchief. \u201cI think the moon didn\u2019t come this time because the moon is Silver Moon. The moon can\u2019t help you anymore because Silver Moon is no longer here to help you.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy was clearly frightened by that prospect. \u201cOh no!\u201d she whispered, her eyes round with horror. \u201cNOW what\u2019ll I do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSooner or later you\u2019re going to have to stop running and face whoever is chasing you,\u201d Ben said quietly. \u201cI think, deep down, you know that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Pa . . . what if I can\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou CAN . . . and you will,\u201d Ben said. \u201cIt\u2019ll take a lot of courage, but I know you have more than enough to see you through.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I\u2019m so courageous, why do I feel like such a \u2018fraidy cat?\u201d Stacy asked dejectedly.<\/p>\n \u201cA long time ago . . . when I was about the same age you are now . . . a wise man told me that courage has nothing to do with not being afraid,\u201d Ben said. \u201cCourage is facing up to something when you ARE afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike . . . facing up to whatever\u2019s chasing me in the dream?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded. \u201cMiss Paris frightens you the same way the dream frightens you, doesn\u2019t she.\u201d It was a statement of fact, not a question.<\/p>\n For an uncertain moment, Stacy thought she was going to faint. \u201cH-how did you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve been edgy ever since you saw her at the restaurant in Virginia City yesterday,\u201d Ben gently answered her question.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know why, Pa,\u201d Stacy said, feeling an almost giddy, guilty sense of relief that he knew. \u201cI\u2019ve never seen Miss Paris before in my life, until yesterday, but I can\u2019t shake this feeling that somehow . . . somewhere I KNOW her. Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou think Miss Paris might be connected with the dream somehow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHer presence seems to have triggered feelings of d\u00e9ja vu like the dreams, but other than that I\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t know,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cI think the only one can really answer that question is you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m scared, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and I\u2019m right here,\u201d Ben said, offering her a reassuring, if weary smile.<\/p>\n Stacy returned his smile, before impulsively throwing her arms around his neck and planting a sound kiss on his cheek. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben\u2019s smile broadened. \u201cFor what?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cFor hearing me out,\u201d she said earnestly, \u201cfor NOT telling me I\u2019m being silly, for not treating me like some kind of cry baby, and . . . most of all . . . for being with me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you\u2019re NOT being silly . . . and you\u2019re hardly what I\u2019d call a cry baby,\u201d Ben hastened to reassure her. He paused briefly, then added, \u201cand I\u2019ll tell you something else. Seeing Miss Paris McKenna yesterday\u2019s had me pretty spooked, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs that why YOU\u2019RE up so early?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, that\u2019s why I\u2019m up so early,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cYou\u2019re very perceptive yourself, Young La\u2013, er Young WOMAN.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou and Silver Moon both say it comes from living with family,\u201d Stacy said. \u201cI wish there was some way you could meet her . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do, too,\u201d Ben said sincerely. \u201cShe sounds like a very wise woman.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmm?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris is sick, isn\u2019t she,\u201d Stacy said, bringing the subject of conversation back to their houseguest.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, she\u2019s not sick, exactly,\u201d Ben explained. \u201cThe doctor said she\u2019s suffering from exhaustion. She\u2019ll be fine after she\u2019s had plenty of rest and plenty to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy shook her head. \u201cNo, Pa. She IS sick. Something\u2019s eating her, from the inside,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ve seen it before . . . twice.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI saw it the second time in the face of my grandfather, Chief Soaring Eagle,\u201d Stacy said sadly. \u201cThe army had us holed up in this box canyon, with . . . with no way out. When my grandfather realized that, he . . . the look on his face . . . it was the same as the look on Miss Paris\u2019 face now.\u201d<\/p>\n Most of the time, by all appearances, Stacy was a typical teenaged girl, who loved horses, delighted in teasing her older brothers, and needed occasional motivation to apply herself to her school work. She had yet to discover the merits of teenaged boys, something for which Ben was heartily thankful, even though he knew that would more than likely change in the very near future. But, occasionally, there were times, like now, when the teenaged girl disappeared into an incredibly wise woman, more ancient than the mountains surrounding the Ponderosa. Ben knew that if he lived to be a hundred, this daughter of his would never cease to amaze him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen was the first time?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cThe first time?!\u201d Stacy echoed, favoring her father with a bewildered frown. \u201cWhat first time?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe first time you saw someone with . . . with the same sickness you see in Miss Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh! It was . . . . \u201d Her face fell as that particular memory and the words, sitting right on the tip of her tongue, suddenly vanished. \u201cI . . . thought there was another time, but . . . all of a sudden, I . . . I can\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe it\u2019ll come back to you later,\u201d Ben suggested, with a hopeful reassuring smile.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe . . . . \u201d she said softly.<\/p>\n \u201cIn the meantime, Young Woman, I think I hear Hop Sing moving about in the kitchen . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Stacy turned a listening ear in the direction of the kitchen. \u201cI think you\u2019re right,\u201d she said, smiling . . . all teenaged girl once again. \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou think . . . maybe . . . if we get up right now, you and I can get to the kitchen first and get OUR share of the bacon before Hoss and Joe wake up?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . then you\u2019d better shake a leg, Miss Stacy LOO-WEESE!\u201d Joe called out from the landing at the top of the stairs, \u201cbecause right now, I\u2019m hungrier than a mean ol\u2019 grizzly bear that just woke up from a long winter\u2019s night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo am I . . . LITTLE Joe!\u201d Stacy retorted, as she leapt to her feet. \u201cLast one to the kitchen forfeits HIS bacon to the first.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLITTLE Joe?! Hey! Where do YOU get off calling me Little Joe, LITTLE Sister?! I\u2019ve got a good mind turn you over my knee, and\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have to catch me first,\u201d Stacy taunted. \u201cExcuse me, Pa . . . . \u201d With the grace and powerful strength of a prowling cougar, she sprang from between the settee and coffee table, and sprinted toward the kitchen as fast as she could.<\/p>\n \u201cWHY YOU LITTLE\u2014! YOU COME BACK HERE!\u201d Joe yelled, giving chase.<\/p>\n \u201cI won!\u201d Stacy crowed triumphantly from the kitchen door. \u201cYour bacon is mine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt is not! You cheated!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid not!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid so!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI most certainly and assuredly did NOT,\u201d Stacy argued. \u201cIf anyone cheated . . . it was YOU!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cME?!\u201d Joe echoed, outraged and indignant.<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . YOU!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did not!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, yes you DID!\u201d<\/p>\n Ben followed at a more leisurely pace, chuckling and shaking his head. A glance out the window told him that the rain had stopped and the clouds were beginning to break up. Soon, the winds would come and scatter the clouds, the way the gray light of this still overcast morning had, for the time being at least, driven away the dark dreams and the uneasiness that seemed to have accompanied Paris McKenna\u2019s unexpected arrival. Out in the kitchen he heard the teasing banter between Joe and Stacy, followed by a peal of the former\u2019s infectious laughter mixed with what had to be some very colorful Chinese from Hop Sing.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Pa,\u201d it was Hoss. \u201cShouldn\u2019t ya tell those two hooligans to quiet down!? Their shenanigans are sure to wake up Miss Paris.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shook his head. \u201cAfter the way Joe and Stacy behaved last night, I\u2019m relieved and thankful to see them back to normal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOUT! OUT OF HOP SING KITCHEN!\u201d Hop Sing yelled, shifting from fluent Chinese to his own unique brand of English. \u201cOUT! RIGHT NOW! CHOP! CHOP!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOn second thought,\u201d Ben said quickening his pace, \u201cI don\u2019t like the sound of that \u2018chop chop.\u2019 Stacy . . . Joseph . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Paris opened her eyes and yawned. Turning toward the window, she saw that the rain had stopped. The sky and remaining wisps of cloud were drenched in a pinkish golden light. Though the pain in her joints had lessened, the muscles in her back and shoulders ached miserably. Her eyes burned, and her entire face felt swollen and tender. She slowly, gingerly eased herself up from prone to sitting. Though the move left her feeling horribly lightheaded, the room stayed firmly anchored on its foundations. She decided to rest a moment, before getting out of bed and finding her way to the washbasin on its stand across the room.<\/p>\n The sound of someone knocking on the door startled her. \u201cWho . . . who is it?\u201d she gasped, shocked at how hoarse her voice sounded in her own ears.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s Ben, Paris. May I come in?\u201d<\/p>\n She automatically straightened, smoothed out the folds of her nightgown, and pushed her hair back behind her ears. \u201cCome in, Ben,\u201d she invited, nervous and wary.<\/p>\n Ben entered the room, carrying a tray. On it was a steaming bowl of Hop Sing\u2019s chicken soup, judging from the delicious, heady aroma. Beside the bowl was a small plate with two biscuits and a slab of butter, along with a mug of steaming hot herbal tea. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Paris,\u201d he said quietly, shocked by her gaunt, haggard appearance. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to wake you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou didn\u2019t,\u201d Paris said in a low, barely audible voice. \u201cI\u2019d just woken up a few minutes before you knocked on the door.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought I\u2019d bring you a little something to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell me something, Ben. Has it become a custom out here to have chicken soup for breakfast?!\u201d<\/p>\n Ben felt a tiny prickle of relief at hearing something of the old Paris McKenna crustiness. \u201cNo,\u201d he shook his head and set the tray down on her lap, \u201cbut we DO have it for dinner or supper occasionally.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGoodness! It\u2019s dinnertime already?\u201d she gasped.<\/p>\n \u201cPast dinner going on supper time, actually,\u201d Ben said quietly. \u201cHop Sing wanted to wake you for breakfast, but I figured you needed the sleep more.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSUPPERtime?!\u201d Paris echoed incredulously. \u201cDo you mean to tell me I\u2019ve slept away the entire day?!\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n Paris scooped up a generous spoonful of broth, vegetables, and chicken, blew on it, then gingerly sipped from the spoon. \u201cGlad to know Hop Sing hasn\u2019t lost his touch,\u201d she murmured.<\/p>\n \u201cMind if I sit with you awhile?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . n-not at all,\u201d she lied.<\/p>\n Ben took the nearest chair and pulled it up beside the bed. \u201cDid you sleep all right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI couldn\u2019t get to sleep right away,\u201d Paris confessed sheepishly, \u201cyou know . . . the usual aches and pains when the rains come.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben frowned. \u201cAren\u2019t you a little young for that?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n Paris placed the spoon on the tray and reached for one of the two buttermilk biscuits. \u201cNot when you haven\u2019t the good sense to get the mumps while you\u2019re still a child,\u201d she sighed. \u201cI caught them two years ago from my employers\u2019 children. My joints have been achy ever since . . . especially when it rains. Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI need to send a wire,\u201d she said briskly, \u201cto my employer in San Francisco. I, uhh . . . think it would be prudent to let him know that I\u2019ve taken ill and . . . am unable to take the job.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, of course,\u201d Ben immediately agreed. He rose and walked over to the secretary, set against the wall directly across the foot of the bed. There, he procured paper and pencil, then turned his attention once again to his houseguest. \u201cThe telegraph office would be closed before anyone could make it into town today, but I\u2019ll have the man who goes in to pick up my mail see to it first thing in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d she murmured, grateful and deeply relieved. \u201cIt wouldn\u2019t be at all seemly for me to not show up without some kind of explanation . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe name of the man who hired me is Barnaby Cunningham,\u201d Paris said. \u201cHe\u2019s the manager of a law firm . . . Collins, Tyler, and Forsythe.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWould the second partner in the law firm happen to be Mark Tyler?\u201d Ben asked, as he dutifully jotted down the information given him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy . . . yes,\u201d Paris replied, mildly surprised. \u201cYou know him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve done business with him a time or two,\u201d Ben replied. He folded the paper and slipped it into the front pocket of his shirt.<\/p>\n \u201cSmall world,\u201d Paris quietly observed, as Ben once again seated himself in the chair next to her bed.<\/p>\n \u201cSo . . . what have you been doing with yourself since you . . . uhh . . . since you and I last saw each other?\u201d Ben asked, suddenly feeling ill at ease.<\/p>\n Paris winced. Her eyes dropped from Ben\u2019s face to her soup like a pair of lead weights. \u201cI\u2019m afraid my life\u2019s been . . . well . . . kind of dull, actually,\u201d she replied, hesitant and apologetic. \u201cI, uhh . . . took ill not long after I . . . after I left. I stayed with Mam, Da, and my sisters until I got back on my feet. After that . . . . \u201d She shrugged. \u201cAfter that, I kinda drifted from one place to another, taking whatever work was available . . . . \u201d She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. \u201cI\u2019ve done well enough for myself for the most part, I s\u2019pose . . . but it\u2019s not been very interesting. I was hoping you\u2019d tell me about Stacy,\u201d she said, hoping against hope to steer the conversation well away from herself. The youngest member of the Cartwright family appeared to be a safe enough topic.<\/p>\n \u201cSure,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cWhat would you like to know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEverything. From the beginning,\u201d Paris immediately replied.<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . Hoss, Joe, and I met Stacy for the first time at Fort Charlotte four . . . going on five years ago now,\u201d Ben began.<\/p>\n Paris glanced over at him sharply. \u201cD-Did you say . . . F-Fort . . . Charlotte?!\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cHm. A VERY small world,\u201d she observed, speaking with a calmness she was very far from feeling.<\/p>\n \u201cSo it would seem,\u201d Ben said with a touch of wryness. \u201cAs you WELL know, Fort Charlotte bought Ponderosa stock for quite a number of years.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . ever since that chance meeting with my father,\u201d Paris said. She gingerly sipped another spoonful of soup. \u201cFor all his faults . . . that man sure knew a fine horse when he saw one, and . . . I remember him saying on more than one occasion that the Ponderosa horses were the best in the whole territory.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHigh praise coming from Gerald McKenna,\u201d Ben said. \u201cWe continued to do business with Fort Charlotte long after your father left the army. The summer we met Stacy, the boys and I had gone there to deliver a string of horses that Sergeant McGuinness\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSergeant DASHEL McGuinness?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. He was horse master at the time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo . . . Dashel decided to follow in his father\u2019s footsteps after all . . . in spite of his many protests to the contrary,\u201d she said quietly, shaking her head in wonder.<\/p>\n \u201cHe had the biggest crush on YOU, as I recall, beginning from the very moment he discovered the existence of girls . . . when? His twelfth birthday?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHis thirteenth,\u201d Paris said tartly. \u201cI, of course, was a sophisticated, worldly woman, all of fifteen years old. My father would have been ecstatic if I had encouraged him, what with HIS father being the fort commander, but . . . I . . . well, I just couldn\u2019t bring myself. To me he was a child, Ben . . . just a little boy, still wet behind the ears, trying to play grown-up . . . and besides . . . MY heart belonged to . . . to another.\u201d As she uttered those last words she once again averted her eyes from his face back to the tray on her lap, deeply chagrined upon feeling the sudden rush of blood to her cheeks and neck.<\/p>\n \u201cSergeant McGuinness came to the Ponderosa in the early spring of that year to look over a string of horses we had just brought in off the range,\u201d Ben continued. \u201cHe purchased them on the spot. That summer the boys and I took \u2018em to Fort Charlotte, saddle broken and trained. The sergeant was at the corral waiting for us when we arrived. Stacy was with him.<\/p>\n \u201cSergeant McGuinness introduced us.\u201d Ben smiled, and a soft, distant gaze clouded his eyes as thought and memory transported him back to that particular time and place. \u201cStacy and the boys hit it off immediately. It seemed the three of \u2018em were thick as thieves before the sergeant could finish making the introductions. If you\u2019d seen them together that day, you would\u2019ve thought they\u2019d known each other their whole lives.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow did Stacy end up at Fort Charlotte of all places?\u201d Paris asked. \u201cWas she an army brat like . . . like my sisters and me?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shook his head. \u201cSergeant McGuinness told me Stacy and about half a dozen other white children were found living with a tribe of Paiute Indians. A patrol heading north spotted \u2018em,\u201d he replied. \u201cThere were no warriors among \u2018em . . . just women . . . children . . . and a handful of old men, including their chief. They knew they were no match for the cavalrymen, so they turned tail and ran. The cavalrymen went after them, and rounded \u2018em up very quickly. The Indians were relocated to a reservation, and the white children taken back to the fort. By the time Hoss, Joe, and I arrived, the other children were gone . . . reunited with their families.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut . . . not Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe had to have come from SOMEWHERE, Ben,\u201d Paris said softly.<\/p>\n \u201cI found out later that Major Baldwin, the fort commander at the time, carried out an extensive search . . . but no one ever came forward to claim her,\u201d Ben explained. \u201cStacy wasn\u2019t able to tell \u2018em anything because she had no memory whatsoever of the life she led before she became part of the Paiute tribe. The only thing she had from that time was a heart shaped pendant and chain, with her name engraved on the heart. In the end, Major Baldwin decided to place her in an orphanage.\u201d The anger, the outrage came through in his voice loud and clear.<\/p>\n \u201cBen, Fort Charlotte IS an army outpost,\u201d Paris reminded him. \u201cAs such, it would hardly have been an appropriate place for a young girl.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, Paris . . . I know,\u201d Ben was forced to concede the point, \u201cbut, hard as life is on a reservation, she would have been better off THERE . . . with a foster mother and family who genuinely cared about her, than at some orphanage out in Ohio, of all places, run by a . . . a monster of a woman who had no damned business looking after children.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris frowned. \u201cOhio? They were going to send her to an orphanage . . . out in Ohio?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris shook her head in complete and utter bewilderment. \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, Paris,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cSending that child all the way out to Ohio didn\u2019t make one bit of sense to me. There\u2019s an orphanage and school right there in Mormon Springs, run by people I know to be kind and decent, who try their best to do what\u2019s right for the children placed in their care. I asked Major Baldwin flat out why he was so hell bent on sending Stacy out to Ohio, but he wouldn\u2019t give me a straight answer. He just kept telling me over and over that the matter was out of his hands.<\/p>\n \u201cThe headmistress of that place in Ohio arrived at the fort the day after WE did. That night\u2014 \u201d Ben abruptly broke off, shocked and dismayed by the intensity of emotion churning within him. He closed his eyes, and took a deep, ragged breath. \u201cParis . . . the way that . . . that woman treated that poor li\u2019l gal . . . well suffice it to say that Hoss was every bit as outraged as I was, and Joe was furious . . . fit to be tied.<\/p>\n \u201cThe next morning, all three of us went to Major Baldwin, and asked his permission to take Stacy with US . . . over and above the protests of that woman from Ohio. He told us that Mrs. Crawleigh, the woman who had come to take Stacy, would have to give consent. SHE made it very clear that she give her consent when hell freezes over.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t understand . . . . \u201d Paris said very softly, with a puzzled frown on her face. \u201cI would\u2019ve thought the headmistress of an orphanage would have been overjoyed at the prospect of you, Hoss, and Joe wanting to provide a home for Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe told me ours wasn\u2019t the proper kind of home with a father, two brothers, and no Mrs. Cartwright to speak of,\u201d Ben replied with a scowl, \u201cand Major Baldwin backed her up all the way . . . until Hoss and Joe changed his mind at the eleventh hour.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow did they manage that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo tell you the honest-to-goodness truth, Paris, to this day, I\u2019m STILL afraid to ask,\u201d Ben said chuckling, as he recalled the odd, almost fearful look that stole over the fort commander\u2019s face, every time he happened to catch sight of Hoss or Joe, after their little chat concerning the welfare of one Miss Stacy Louise. \u201cThe important thing is . . . Major Baldwin forced Mrs. Crawleigh to sign the necessary papers relinquishing custody of Stacy to me. After we arrived home, I was able to legally adopt her almost immediately because Major Baldwin had already carried out the search for possible relatives, as required by Nevada law.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe must be quite a remarkable young lady to have captured your hearts so completely . . . and . . . and so quickly,\u201d Paris said, her voice filled with sadness.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, she is,\u201d Ben agreed, with a proud smile, \u201cbut, Paris . . . a word to the wise?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhatever you do . . . don\u2019t EVER call her a lady, young, old, or otherwise . . . at least not to her face,\u201d Ben warned. \u201cShe\u2019ll tar and feather you first, ask questions later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHoss made the mistake of referring to her as a young lady . . . oh, sometime within the first few days she was with us,\u201d Ben said quietly. \u201cThe end result was . . . well, to hear Joe tell it, Hoss was limping for at least a month of Sundays, and Stacy couldn\u2019t sit down for the better part of a week.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you for the warning, Ben. I\u2019ll try to remember,\u201d Paris dutifully promised. \u201cI\u2019m . . . glad that poor child\u2019s story had a happy ending, though . . . especially after all she\u2019s gone through . . . being abducted by the Paiutes from . . . from wherever she was . . . followed by all the years of living with those savages . . . . \u201d She shuddered.<\/p>\n \u201cAccording to Stacy her life among the Paiutes wasn\u2019t so bad,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded. \u201cStacy\u2019s foster mother and grandfather taught her to ride, to hunt and fish . . . to track just about everything from wild horses and game to people,\u201d he explained. \u201cThey also taught her to swim like a fish, to sing like the birds, to howl like the wolf and the coyote, to walk silent as falling snow, and how to use the stars to find her way in the night. They also passed on to her a love and a reverence for the land the like of which I\u2019ve seen in a white man once . . . a young man, every bit as remarkable . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEric?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . Eric,\u201d Ben replied with a proud smile. \u201cI\u2019ve . . . never thought of this before, but during his growing up years, and still, to this very day, the Ponderosa\u2019s been his classroom, and the sky, the trees, the other plants, and animals were and continue to be his teachers. Since the day Stacy joined our family, he\u2019s taken her under wing and continued the lessons I\u2019m almost certain her Paiute foster mother, Silver Moon, began.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEven so . . . she can\u2019t possibly love the Ponderosa more than YOU do,\u201d Paris said in a voice, more calm and steady. \u201cI don\u2019t think anybody can.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy sons . . . my daughter . . . and I love this place we call home very much,\u201d Ben explained, \u201cthough we love her in different ways . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cI think I\u2019VE come to love this land . . . this home of ours . . . as a man loves a woman,\u201d Ben said slowly, thoughtfully. \u201cOut of that love has come a healthy respect . . . of knowing what we can and can\u2019t do . . . and an equal portion of give and take on both sides.<\/p>\n \u201cHer resources . . . her gifts . . . are many and vast and she\u2019s been very generous with them. But, they are NOT without limit. So . . . I\u2019ve tried to find ways in which I can give back, whether it\u2019s planting a tree for each one we cut down . . . allowing our fields and pasture lands to go fallow every few years, each in their own turn, so that they might rest and replenish themselves . . . or in simply not hunting or fishing for more than we can eat. I\u2019ve done my very best to teach these things to my children.<\/p>\n \u201cNow Joe, on the other hand . . . the Ponderosa is all he\u2019s ever known,\u201d Ben continued. \u201cHe\u2019s the only one of my children who was actually born here. The Ponderosa has in a very real way nurtured and sustained him, and has been for him especially the center that draws and keeps our family together every bit as much as a mother would. He\u2019s grown up into a fine young man, one whom I\u2019ve very proud to call son. I\u2019ve done the best I could to bring that about, but I have to give a large portion of that credit to the kind of life the Ponderosa\u2019s given us . . . individually AND as a family.<\/p>\n \u201cFor Adam, I think the Ponderosa was his teacher . . . his mentor, but in a different way than for Hoss and Stacy. All of the knowledge he learned while attending Harvard University, he brought back and applied here. He honed and sharpened those skills . . . and . . . . \u201d Ben chuckled softly, \u201che learned some hard lessons about the differences between what he read in books and the way things work out in life.\u201d<\/p>\n An amused smile tugged hard at the corner of Paris\u2019 mouth as she took a dainty sip of Hop Sing\u2019s herbal tea.<\/p>\n \u201cFor many years, Adam was very much my right hand man,\u201d Ben continued, with a wistful, nostalgic smile. \u201cAs such, he\u2019s worked with many different people, coming from different backgrounds, with different ways of seeing things . . . and in so doing has learned a lot about human nature. I . . . make a point of visiting him and his family whenever I\u2019m in Sacramento . . . and from what I can see, he\u2019s taken all those things he learned and put into practice here . . . and has applied them to the life he and his wife have made for themselves and their children.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and THAT brings us back again to Eric and Stacy,\u201d Paris said. \u201cYou said that the land has become Eric\u2019s classroom, and the sky, the plants, and the animals his teachers . . . and that he, in turn, is passing his knowledge on to Stacy, but . . . how, exactly do THEY love this wondrous Ponderosa of yours?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEric . . . HOSS . . . and Stacy . . . I believe the two of them see The Creator in the beauty and the majesty of the land they call home,\u201d Ben replied, \u201cand in the plants, the creatures with whom they share their home. Hoss, more than any of us, sees ownership of the Ponderosa as a trust, one that he takes very seriously and I dare say, holds sacred. Silver Moon and her father instilled that same idea in Stacy, and Hoss, over the last few years, has reinforced and solidified those ideas.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and I suppose the NEXT thing you\u2019re going to tell me is that Eric and Stacy love the Ponderosa in the same way people love God,\u201d Paris snorted with a gentle derisiveness.<\/p>\n \u201cI believe they do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and you allow such . . . such . . . blasphemous idolatry in your own house?!\u201d she queried, appalled, yet envious.<\/p>\n Ben smiled and shook his head. \u201cThere\u2019s no more blasphemy in Stacy\u2019s Father Sky and Mother Earth than there is in Hoss\u2019 God, Father and Creator of All Things, or in Saint Francis of Assisi\u2019s Brother Sun and Sister Moon. Sometimes I think if more of us COULD see The Creator in the creation, and remember that when God created, he pronounced it all good . . . maybe this world would be a better place, and the lot of us much healthier . . . and happier.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s certainly not what I was taught . . . but I\u2019d far rather live in the world YOU envision, Ben,\u201d Paris said in a voice barely audible. She sighed and though shaking her head in complete bewilderment, a small ray of delight shone in her deep blue eyes, as well.<\/p>\n \u201cThe greatest gifts Silver Moon, her father, her husband, Jon Running Deer, and the rest of the tribe gave Stacy were unconditional love and acceptance,\u201d Ben continued.<\/p>\n \u201cUnconditional love and acceptance . . . . \u201d Paris murmured softly, shaking her head once more in utter disbelief. \u201cThe idea! The VERY idea . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n The thought of a people, she had always been taught to regard as little better than savage wild animals, accepting a strange white child into their midst and actually loving her, was incomprehensible. She, by contrast, had always lived among her own, yet she had no memory of ever having been loved. As a young child, she was looked upon as an inconvenience, to be seen as little as possible and never heard. When she was older, she worked alongside her mam and da, not as a daughter, but as just another servant, tending to the farm that ironically belonged to her maternal grandfather.<\/p>\n \u201cTimes was hard, Par\u2019een.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n She heard again the voice of her paternal grandmother, a wise and kindly woman, who had never lost the capacity to love, no matter what troubles beset her.<\/p>\n \u201cSHE loved me,<\/em>\u201d Paris silently remembered with a pang of guilt that brought tears to her eyes. \u201cShe LOVED me. Oh, dear God in heaven . . . how could I have forgotten h-how much Grandma McKenna loved me?!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Tis all too easy t\u2019 lose sight o\u2019 the silver linin\u2019 behind the dark cloud, Par\u2019een, when day after day after wearyin\u2019 day, you\u2019re fightin\u2019 an uphill battle to just t\u2019 stay alive . . . \u2018n you, Darlin\u2019, willful li\u2019l thing you were, with that stiff-necked, uncompromisin\u2019 pride about y\u2019. . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Her thoughts drifted back to Ireland 1847, the year that had become known as Black \u201847. . . to the sight of her mother, the disowned and disgraced daughter of the manor lord, on her knees begging the lowliest of her father\u2019s servants for kitchen scraps to feed her starving family . . . .<\/p>\n . . . then, to New York City, a year later, to the sight of her father, a proud man, big, strong, and powerful . . . coming home with his shoulders sagging and his head bowed in humbling defeat, after having spent yet another day looking for work amid a veritable sea of help wanted signs, with the words, \u201cNo Irish need apply here,\u201d splayed prominently across their bottom . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cYou BET I have my pride,\u201d<\/em> Paris silently told her grandmother, with an emphatic, angry nod of her head.<\/p>\n \u201cAt what price, Par\u2019een?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n The price HAD been dear . . . . Very dear indeed. Her pride had cost her the love of the people who had mattered the most: Mam . . . Da . . . John . . . Matilda and Elsie . . . and most heart wrenching of all . . . the big silver haired man now seated in a chair drawn up beside her bed.<\/p>\n . . . and yet, dear as the price had been for her . . . it was poor Rose Miranda who had ended up suffering the consequences.<\/p>\n \u201cParis?\u201d Ben queried, noting the quivering bottom lip and the unusually bright eyes. \u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m f-fine, Ben,\u201d she replied in as steady voice as she could muster.<\/p>\n \u201cYou always were a very poor liar, Paris,\u201d Ben chided her gently.<\/p>\n A single tear slipped over her eyelid and ran down her cheek. His way of reading her like a book was disconcerting enough seventeen years ago. Now, it seemed even more so. \u201cYou . . . you w-were telling me about STACY,\u201d she said pointedly, her voice breaking.<\/p>\n \u201cYes. So I was.\u201d Ben immediately backed off. \u201cYou . . . know much I love my sons.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris nodded. \u201cY-You love . . . Adam . . . Eric . . . and Joe . . . more than just about anything,\u201d she said, her voice shaking. \u201cY-You love them even more than you love this beautiful Ponderosa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI built the Ponderosa for my sons,\u201d Ben said quietly. \u201cI wanted to give them a home . . . and a way of life that would draw us together as a family, bound together by the love of and a mutual respect for one another.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and you have, Ben, you HAVE!\u201d Paris said quietly. \u201cI\u2019ve encountered many families in my travels . . . some wealthy beyond imagining . . . others so destitute they have no roof over their heads, no idea as to where their next meal is coming from . . . the rest lying somewhere between those two extremes. None of them had what you, Adam, Eric, Joe . . . and now Stacy have. A few came close, but the vast majority missed the mark by a wide mile. You have something very special, Ben.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . even if I DO say so myself,\u201d Ben agreed. \u201cAdam, Hoss, and Joe have all grown into fine, decent young men and I\u2019m very proud . . . very proud indeed to call them my sons. I love them . . . and over the years, they\u2019ve earned my respect many, many times over.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and I dare say, you\u2019ve earned their admiration and respect many times over, as well,\u201d Paris added quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cI wouldn\u2019t trade my sons for anything,\u201d Ben declared punctuating his words with an emphatic nod of his head. \u201cBut, sometimes . . . I\u2019ve found myself regretting not having had a daughter, too. From the first moment I laid eyes on Stacy, I knew . . . deep down, I KNEW that she was the daughter I\u2019d always wanted, but never had. No father could possibly love his daughter any more than I love Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris suddenly burst into tears. \u201cBen . . . I . . . I c-can\u2019t eat anymore,\u201d she sobbed pushing the tray back towards him.<\/p>\n The suddenness and the intensity of her grief disturbed and frightened him. \u201cParis, what\u2019s wrong?\u201d he prodded gingerly.<\/p>\n \u201cNothing\u2019s wrong, B-Ben, n-nothing,\u201d she stammered.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s an outright lie, and you know it,\u201d Ben chided her gently. \u201cWe\u2019ve always been able to talk to each other about what\u2019s bothering us. Please, talk to me now, Paris. Maybe I can help.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen, please! Just leave me alone!\u201d she wailed, on the edge of hysteria. \u201cPlease!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right,\u201d Ben said curtly. Her outburst left him feeling helpless, and utterly shaken to the very core of his being. He took the food tray and rose stiffly. \u201cIf you need anything let me know.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Downstairs in the kitchen, Hop Sing shook his head morosely over the almost untouched food on the tray. \u201cMiss Paris not eat, Mister Cartwright,\u201d he chastised Ben severely. \u201cHow she get strong again, if she not eat?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shrugged.<\/p>\n \u201cKnow what Hop Sing think? Hop Sing think Miss Paris NOT tired like doctor say,\u201d Hop Sing stated with an emphatic nod of his head. \u201cHop Sing think Miss Paris SICK! Very, very sick.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re the second person who\u2019s said that today,\u201d Ben said wearily.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris HEART sick, Mister Cartwright,\u201d Hop Sing pressed.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you trying to tell me she has a heart condition?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, no, no, no.\u201d Hop Sing shook his head vigorously. \u201cMister Cartwright think BODY heart. Hop Sing mean SOUL heart. Miss Paris sick in soul heart. Sickness in soul heart worse than sickness in body heart. Much worse!\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The following morning dawned clear and sunny. Though still chilly, there was a hint of the spring warmth soon to come. Ben leaned up against the fence surrounding the field where the horses were trained, watching Hoss and Stacy put Golden Boy, a young palomino gelding, through his paces. Hoss gave the orders; Stacy and Golden Boy flawlessly executed them as one.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . magic,\u201d he murmured softly, his eyes and face shining with pride. \u201cNothing less than pure \u2018n simple magic.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s, uhhh . . . what, Son?\u201d Ben queried, as he turned his head and favored his biggest son with a bewildered frown.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s nothin\u2019 less \u2018n pure \u2018n simple magic?\u201d Hoss queried.<\/p>\n \u201cOh!\u201d Ben murmured softly, aware for the first time of having given voice to his thoughts. \u201cI was referring to the way you and your sister seem to have brought that palomino around.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAww, Pa . . . . \u201d Hoss gently guffawed, his cheeks slightly flushed, \u201cwhat brought Golden Boy around was just a lotta plain, ol\u2019 fashioned love . . . then trust. Ain\u2019t nuthin\u2019 particularly magical \u2018bout either one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow THAT\u2019S where you\u2019re wrong, Hoss,\u201d Ben said quietly. \u201cLove and trust are just about the most magical things there are in this world . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Love and trust.<\/p>\n Ben\u2019s thoughts drifted to Paris McKenna. He had stopped to look in on her before coming down to watch Hoss and Stacy. The visit was strained, and mercifully, very brief. She had adamantly insisted that she slept very well last night, thank you very much; and that she felt much better this morning. He couldn\u2019t help but notice that she had seemed inordinately relieved when he told her he would away from the house most of the day. To be up front and honest, he felt the same deep, profound relief himself.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n The sound of Hoss\u2019 voice drew him away from his troubled musings about Paris.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do y\u2019 think?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI already told ya, Son . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow, Pa . . . .\u201d Hoss groaned and rolled his eyes, \u201cyou ain\u2019t gonna start in on that business about magic again . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA month ago, Hoss, that youngster . . . . \u201d Ben inclined his head toward the young palomino, now trotting along the fence on the other side if the corral, \u201c . . . was the most unruly of the lot. For a while there, I thought sure HE was going to end up breaking Joe before Joe could break him. When you and your sister asked if you could work with him, I honestly didn\u2019t think Golden Boy was going to let the two of ya get within ten feet of him, let alone get him into a bridle or slap a saddle on his back.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss smiled and shook his head. \u201cPa, I don\u2019t know one bit about magic, except for what ya read t\u2019 Joe \u2018n me from that big book o\u2019 faerie tales you read t\u2019 the whole lotta us from when we was little, but, I can tell ya one thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah?\u201d Ben queried. \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know that Stacy \u2018n I make a great team.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure do,\u201d Ben immediately agreed. \u201cHoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow long before he\u2019s ready for delivery to Mister Hansen?\u201d Ben asked. \u201cYou know he\u2019s got his eye on him as a birthday present for his daughter, Rachael.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnother couple of weeks o\u2019 good solid work oughtta do it,\u201d Hoss replied, \u201cbut there\u2019s somethin\u2019 Li\u2019l Sister \u2018n I\u2019ve been meanin\u2019 t\u2019 tell ya . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that, Son?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStacy \u2018n me . . . well, we\u2019re both of the mind that Golden Boy\u2019d be a better gift for Grace than Rachael.\u201d Grace was the eldest of Clay Hansen\u2019s five daughters, and Rachael was next to youngest.<\/p>\n \u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss nodded. \u201cHe\u2019s turnin\u2019 out t\u2019 be a real fine saddle horse, but he\u2019s high spirited. He\u2019s gonna need a rider with a firm hand,\u201d he explained. \u201cI know Rachael rides well enough for a li\u2019l gal just startin\u2019 out \u2018n all\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . but Grace, being the accomplished horse woman she is AND the more experienced rider, is better able to handle a high-spirited mount,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Hoss replied.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll pass your advice along to Mister Hansen,\u201d Ben promised.<\/p>\n Stacy, meanwhile, circled the corral once again, waving at her father and brother in passing.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Stacy,\u201d Hoss turned and called to her across the corral, \u201cy\u2019 can start coolin\u2019 him down now.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy smiled and gave an acknowledging wave. Before she could stop and dismount, however, Golden Boy stumbled. Her quick action prevented him from taking a bad, perhaps even fatal, collapse. In bringing the young gelding to an abrupt stop, however, Stacy felt something give. The saddle beneath her lurched, and began to slide. The next thing she knew, she had rolled off of Golden Boy\u2019s back, and struck the muddy ground hard enough to drive the wind from her lungs.<\/p>\n With heart in mouth, Ben tore across the corral, beating a straight path towards its center, where Stacy lay, unmoving. Hoss followed close at his father\u2019s heels. One of the hands, a young man, recently hired, had the presence of mind to take hold of Golden Boy\u2019s lead and gently coax him well away from Stacy\u2019s ominously still form, allowing Ben and Hoss easy access.<\/p>\n As he dropped down to his knees along side his daughter, Ben saw Joe\u2019s mother, Marie, that terrible day she took a tumble from her horse, lying right out on front of the house, so ominously still, with arms and legs splayed, her head and neck oddly juxtaposed in relation to her shoulders . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d he whispered, vigorously shaking his head in denial. \u201cNo . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cP-Pa?\u201d The sound of Stacy\u2019s voice drew Ben from his terrible reverie, back into the here and now. She tried to sit up.<\/p>\n \u201cStacy, no. Don\u2019t move,\u201d Ben said tersely. He placed his hands down onto her shoulders, effectively restraining her. \u201cNot just yet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . I\u2019m ok, Pa,\u201d Stacy gasped. \u201cFall . . . knocked the w-wind outta me, \u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoes it hurt when you breathe in?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cA little.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow about your back?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt hurts some, but not real b-bad,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n \u201cCan you move your legs?\u201d Ben pressed anxiously.<\/p>\n Stacy very gingerly lifted her right leg, flexing her knee, then her foot and ankle. She lowered her leg back down to the ground, before raising her left leg and flexing her knee. Her attempt to flex her ankle brought forth a cry of pain.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it, Stacy?\u201d Ben snapped out the question.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s m-my ankle, Pa. It hurts like the devil, and . . . and I feel like the boot\u2019s suddenly grown t-too small.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding. He offered a silent, heartfelt prayer of thanks that from all indications, she had no internal injuries . . . she wasn\u2019t paralyzed . . . or worse. So far, her worst injury might be a broken ankle, but given time, that would heal.<\/p>\n Stacy, meanwhile, studied her father\u2019s face with an anxious frown. His complexion was a few shades paler than normal, and his dark eyes were round with alarm. \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre . . . YOU ok?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be alright, Young Woman,\u201d Ben hastened to assure her. \u201cThink you can sit up?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . I don\u2019t see why not,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n Ben carefully eased her from prone to sitting.<\/p>\n Stacy gasped, as she squeezed her eyes shut against an environment that suddenly began to spin and pulsate with nauseating intensity. \u201cPa, I . . . I . . . . \u201d she moaned softly, then collapsed against Ben, her body limp as a rag doll.<\/p>\n \u201cHOSS!\u201d Ben shouted, as he scooped Stacy\u2019s inert form up into his arms, and rose to his feet, all in the same ungainly move.<\/p>\n \u201cRight here, Pa.\u201d Hoss appeared at his elbow, with Stacy\u2019s saddle clasped tight in his arms.<\/p>\n \u201cSend one of the men to town to fetch Doctor Martin,\u201d Ben said tersely . . . .<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cBen, she\u2019s a very lucky young woman,\u201d Paul Martin said candidly, as he stepped out into the upstairs hallway with his young patient\u2019s father. \u201cNo broken ribs as far as I can tell . . . and no internal bleeding. She\u2019s going to be very stiff and sore for the next few days, but the worst of her injuries appear to be a badly sprained ankle, and that knot on the back of her head.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank heaven for small mercies,\u201d Ben murmured gratefully.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve bandaged her ankle,\u201d Paul continued. \u201cAn ice pack three to five times a day, over the course of the next few days will help keep the swelling down. Stacy should also keep her ankle elevated whenever she\u2019s sitting or lying down. If her toes begin to feel cold, or turn blue, loosen the bandage.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m most concerned about that head injury,\u201d Paul said gravely. \u201cHow long was she unconscious?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot long . . . ten minutes perhaps . . . fifteen at the very outside,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cThough she was conscious after she initially fell off the horse. She didn\u2019t pass out until she tried to sit up.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul took a moment to mull over what Ben had just told him. \u201cThat\u2019s good,\u201d he said guardedly. \u201cAt the moment, Stacy\u2019s resting comfortably enough. If she later complains of nausea and vomiting . . . dizziness . . . blurred or double vision, send for me at once. I\u2019ll be at home all this evening and tonight . . . barring any unforeseen emergencies of course . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course,\u201d Ben murmured quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cIf by supper time, she hasn\u2019t suffered any significant bouts of nausea and vomiting, go ahead and give her broth . . . chicken is best, of course, tea, and maybe a slice of toast with jelly,\u201d Paul continued. \u201cIf that stays down tonight, she can have solid food tomorrow, just keep it bland. After that, you can play it by ear.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you for coming out, Paul,\u201d Ben said gratefully. \u201cI\u2019ll see you to the door.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul nodded and fell in step alongside the Cartwright clan patriarch. \u201cHow\u2019s my OTHER patient doing?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cPhysically . . . about the same, near as I can tell,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cShe didn\u2019t sleep well her first night here, but she DID make up for it yesterday. She also has no appetite, much to Hop Sing\u2019s consternation. But . . . that\u2019s not what concerns me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat DOES concern you, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHer state of mind,\u201d Ben replied. He somberly related the details of what had transpired the previous afternoon. \u201cOne minute Paris and I were talking about Stacy, and the next . . . she\u2019s crying, and screaming at me to go away and leave her alone. I . . . I was so shocked, I didn\u2019t know what to do . . . or say.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs I recall, she was something of a mercurial woman,\u201d Paul said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cTrue, but . . . nothing like this, Paul.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow was she today?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis morning, I stopped in long enough to tell her that I would be away from the house most of the day . . . that Hop Sing would be here to look after her,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cShe was very subdued, and . . . it seemed to me she was very relieved.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you\u2019d like, I\u2019ll look in on her, since I\u2019m here,\u201d Paul said.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Paul. I would appreciate that very much,\u201d Ben said gratefully.<\/p>\n \u201cIn the meantime, why don\u2019t you g\u2019won in and see Stacy. I\u2019ll let you know when I\u2019m ready to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n After showing Paul to the guest room, occupied by Paris McKenna, Ben continued on down the hall to his daughter\u2019s room. Stacy was lying under several layers of bedclothes, a sheet, a light blanket, and her favorite quilt, clad in the oversized nightshirt she customarily wore to bed. The bedclothes had been pulled away from her injured ankle, which was propped up on a couple of spare downy pillows. Hoss was seated in a chair on the other side of her bed, facing the door.<\/p>\n As Ben entered the room, Stacy turned and wordlessly held out her hand. Ben quickly crossed the room, and gently took her outstretched hand, as he seated himself on the edge of her bed.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did the doctor say, Pa?\u201d Stacy asked, punctuating her words with a great big yawn.<\/p>\n \u201cHe said with plenty of rest, you\u2019re going to be just fine,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n \u201cIncluding my ankle?\u201d she queried anxiously.<\/p>\n \u201cIncluding your ankle,\u201d Ben said. \u201cIt was sprained, not broken.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy exhaled a long, slow sigh of relief.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re still going to have to take it easy for the next few days,\u201d Ben said gently, yet very firmly. \u201cThe doctor said you\u2019re to keep off of it as much as you can, and keep it elevated, when you\u2019re sitting or lying down as you are now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m just glad it\u2019s not broken,\u201d Stacy said gratefully.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you feel?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI kinda hurt all over . . . especially my head and my ankle, but otherwise I feel ok,\u201d Stacy replied. \u201cI don\u2019t understand how the cinch on my saddle came apart like that, though . . . . I buckled it on tight enough, Pa. I KNOW I did.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know ya did, too, Li\u2019l Sister,\u201d Hoss said grimly.<\/p>\n \u201cThat saddle IS an old one,\u201d Ben said slowly. \u201cThe leather\u2019s worn in some places. Could be the cinch straps were more worn than we realized.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Pa,\u201d Hoss declared, shaking his head in adamant denial. \u201cThat strap didn\u2019t wear out . . . it was deliberately CUT.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHoss, are you sure?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sure, Pa,\u201d Hoss said, with a dark angry scowl. \u201cWhoever did it . . . cut the strap almost all the way through from the side that\u2019s up next t\u2019 the horse. He counted on Stacy ridin\u2019 to work the cut all the way through.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMe?!\u201d Stacy queried.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Fraid so, Li\u2019l Sister.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat makes you think he was after me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Cause you always use that saddle,\u201d Hoss replied, \u201c \u2018n everyone knows it.\u201d<\/p>\n The fear that always accompanied her terrible recurring dream suddenly rose with a ferocious intensity that threatened to inundate her. Her first instinct was to jump up out of bed and run . . . it didn\u2019t matter much where . . . just someplace away . . . FAR away . . . as fast as her legs could carry her. As she struggled to hold her ground, to not give into that first instinct, Stacy slowly became aware of anger rising within her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to embrace that anger, to draw from it the strength, the courage, and the will to stand and fight. \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n She opened her eyes. Neither Ben nor Hoss could ever remember having seen her eyes burn with such raw fury, almost primal in its intensity.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . so HELP me . . . if I EVER find out who cut that strap . . . I\u2019m gonna beat the hell out of him!\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHey, Pa . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Ben started out of his light doze and glanced up sharply, just as the grandfather clock struck the quarter hour past midnight.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . what\u2019re YOU doing up?\u201d<\/p>\n It was Joe. He stepped through the front door, pausing beside the credenza to remove his hat and gun belt.<\/p>\n Candy, the junior foreman and close family friend, followed Joe into the house. He removed his hat, as he moved around Joe, but didn\u2019t stop to remove his gun belt.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s been a long time since I came home in the wee hours of the morning and found you still up,\u201d Joe said with a grin, as he placed his gun belt on the credenza, next to the door, and removed his jacket.<\/p>\n \u201cThe last time was the night before your twenty-first birthday,\u201d Ben said, stifling a yawn. \u201cTonight . . . I was having trouble getting to sleep, so I decided to come down and read for a little while.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOne of the men told us about Stacy,\u201d Joe said, turning serious. \u201cShe all right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe will be,\u201d Ben replied. He, then, filled Joe and Candy in on everything Paul Martin had told him. \u201cI . . . think the danger of concussion has passed. She kept her supper down tonight . . . and hasn\u2019t complained of feeling dizzy, nauseated, or of having any problems with her vision.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank goodness for that,\u201d Joe said, the relief evident in his voice. \u201cShe\u2019s gonna be one stiff \u2018n sore li\u2019l kid for awhile, though . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIndeed she is,\u201d Ben said. \u201cI\u2019m just thankful her injuries weren\u2019t any worse.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAmen to that!\u201d Joe agreed. \u201cAny idea who did it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNone,\u201d Ben shook his head. \u201cHoss questioned everyone who was in the corral today. No one seemed to know anything about it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright, is it possible that whoever cut that strap did it as . . . well . . . as some kind of practical joke?\u201d Candy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cThat practical joke could have very easily killed her,\u201d Ben said coldly. \u201cI, for one, don\u2019t find that the least bit funny.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAgreed,\u201d Joe said grimly, \u201cand if I ever find out who the joker is, I\u2019m gonna to cheerfully wring his neck.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot if Stacy gets to him first,\u201d Ben said soberly, remembering the fury he had seen in his daughter\u2019s eyes earlier. \u201cAll I can say is God help him if she does.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve got that right, Pa,\u201d Joe said gravely. \u201cThat kid can be a real spitfire when she\u2019s of a mind to be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright,\u201d Candy said slowly, \u201cin light of this business concerning Stacy\u2019s saddle, I . . . think there\u2019s something I ought to tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it, Candy?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWhile I was in town yesterday picking up the mail, I found out that someone . . . a stranger . . . spent the better part of the afternoon day BEFORE yesterday asking folks questions about your family in general, Stacy in particular,\u201d Candy reported.<\/p>\n \u201cA stranger?!\u201d Ben found Candy\u2019s news deeply unsettling. \u201cWere you able to find out anything about him? Anything at all?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot much, I\u2019m afraid,\u201d Candy replied apologetically. \u201cThe general consensus was that he came from a big city back east. Sam over at the Silver Dollar said it kinda ran in HIS mind that the man asking questions was from either New York or Philadelphia,\u201d Candy replied, \u201cand Miss Mudgely . . . . \u201d He sighed and sarcastically rolled his eyes heavenward. \u201c . . . Miss Mudgely daggoned near talked my ear off, with her explanation as to why the man could have ONLY come from Boston.\u201d<\/p>\n Miss Clara Mudgely was the church organist. When of a more kindly disposition, her acquaintances and neighbors referred to her as Virginia City\u2019s walking newspaper.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere you able to get the man\u2019s name?\u201d Ben pressed.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir.\u201d Candy ruefully shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and you say this man was asking questions about Stacy in particular?\u201d<\/p>\n Candy nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cNow what possible interest could a . . . a stranger . . . possibly have in an orphaned young girl with no blood kin to speak of?\u201d Ben wondered aloud with an anxious frown.<\/p>\n \u201cCould be a Pinkerton man,\u201d Candy suggested.<\/p>\n \u201cIf so that still begs the question of who hired him . . . and why,\u201d Ben said grimly. He silently resolved to ride into Virginia City first thing in the morning and start making some inquiries of his own.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cGood morning, Young Woman . . . I\u2019m sorry . . . I didn\u2019t mean to wake you,\u201d Ben immediately apologized upon finding his daughter lying in bed, wide-awake, the next morning. He had stopped in to check up on her before going into town.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018S ok, Pa . . . I was already awake,\u201d Stacy said, noting that he was already washed, shaved, and dressed. He held a solid mahogany walking cane in his right hand, and had his jacket draped over his left arm. \u201cWhere are you going?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cInto town,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cI have some business to take care of.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh. When are ya coming back?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI should be home around dinner time,\u201d Ben said, as he walked over to her bed and sat down on the edge. \u201cYou want me to bring you back anything?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo thanks, Pa.\u201d She yawned.<\/p>\n \u201cNot even a bag of lemon drops?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . maybe. But you\u2019d better make that TWO bags of lemon drops,\u201d Stacy said. \u201cHoss loves \u2018em every bit as much as I do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTwo bags of lemon drops it is,\u201d Ben said, \u201cand I\u2019d better pick up a big bag of black licorice for Joe, while I\u2019m at it.\u201d He reached over and gently pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen down into her face. \u201cHow are you feeling this morning?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . think the lump\u2019s gone down, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet me take a look at you. Can you sit up?\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy gingerly eased herself up off the mound of pillows stacked behind her, wincing with each movement. \u201cCareful, Pa . . . it\u2019s still kinda tender back there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be careful,\u201d Ben promised. He examined the back of her head, noting with relief that the bump was indeed all but gone. \u201cYou were right about that lump. How do you feel otherwise?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy head doesn\u2019t hurt very much . . . hardly at all, in fact,\u201d Stacy replied, \u201cbut the rest of me . . . . Pa, I think I know what you mean now when you say you\u2019re hurting in muscles you never knew you had.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe doc said you were going to be stiff and sore for a few days,\u201d Ben said as he rose, and walked over to the other side of her bed. \u201cHow\u2019s the ankle?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt actually hurts worse than it did yesterday,\u201d she said with a puzzled frown.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s the nature of the beast, I\u2019m afraid,\u201d Ben said sympathetically. \u201cWhen you take a tumble like you did yesterday, more often than not you find yourself hurting worse the day after. Mind if I take a look at that ankle?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGo ahead,\u201d she yawned.<\/p>\n Ben carefully moved aside the covers. He noted with satisfaction that, although still very swollen, her skin color was good, and that her toes remained warm to the touch.<\/p>\n \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d Ben asked, as he carefully replaced the bedcovers back over her injured foot.<\/p>\n \u201cDo I have to stay in bed all day today?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben replied, \u201cbut I want you to promise me you\u2019ll take it easy . . . and that you won\u2019t try the steps unless someone\u2019s walking down with you.\u201d<\/p>\n Her face fell.<\/p>\n \u201cStacy, with a head injury like the one you suffered yesterday . . . problems can arise days . . . sometimes even weeks later,\u201d Ben patiently explained. \u201cIf you\u2019re walking down the stairs and happen to suffer a dizzy spell all of a sudden, you could fall and end up hurt a lot worse than you already are.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy silently digested his words, taking into account the possible consequences of not heeding them. She sighed. \u201cOk, Pa . . . I promise I\u2019ll take it easy when I get up . . . AND I won\u2019t use the stairs by myself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and one more thing, Young Woman,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEven though I told you that you can get out of bed, you STILL need to stay off that ankle as much as possible,\u201d Ben said firmly.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI brought you this . . . . \u201d Ben placed the walking cane he had brought into her room over next to her bed, within easy reach.<\/p>\n \u201cIs that the one with the horse head?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben smiled. \u201cYes . . . it\u2019s the one with the horse head,\u201d he replied. \u201cI want you to use it when you\u2019re up walking around. That\u2019ll take some of the weight off your ankle.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOk, Pa,\u201d Stacy said, returning his smile. \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re welcome,\u201d Ben said. \u201cNow I want you to behave yourself while I\u2019m gone, Young Woman. Take things very easy and get some rest.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben sat back down on the edge of her bed, then slipped his arms around her and hugged her close for a moment. \u201cI love you, Li\u2019l Gal,\u201d he whispered, his voice catching on the last word.<\/p>\n It had been a long time since he had called her that . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cI love you, too, Pa,\u201d Stacy said, as she gave him an affectionate squeeze, \u201cand . . . you don\u2019t have to worry about me, I\u2019ll be ok. I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs your pa, it\u2019s my job to worry about ya,\u201d Ben\u2019s tone was gentle, yet firm, \u201cand I\u2019m holding you to that promise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019d better!\u201d<\/p>\n Ben kissed her forehead, then tucked her back in under the covers. \u201cI\u2019ll see you later,\u201d he said in parting.<\/p>\n \u201cOk, Pa . . . . \u201d Stacy yawned again, then drifted off sleep.<\/p>\n Ben quietly let himself out of Stacy\u2019s room and continued on down the hallway toward the stairs. He paused before the door to the guest room, debating as to whether or not he should stop in briefly and check up on Paris. He had neglected her shamefully yesterday, due in part to Stacy\u2019s mishap . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cYou might as well admit it to yourself, Y\u2019 Ol\u2019 Coot!\u201d Ben silently castigated himself. \u201cYour REAL reason for avoiding Paris is . . . you\u2019re afraid!\u201d<\/p>\n Damn straight he was afraid. Her sudden, near hysterical outburst the day before yesterday had completely unnerved him. At his request, Paul Martin had looked in on her yesterday, after he had finished examining Stacy . . . . \u201cHop Sing will be very pleased . . . assuming, of course, she takes it to heart,\u201d Ben had said.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cAs for her emotional state . . . she seemed very subdued to me,\u201d Paul continued, as they walked down the stairs toward the front door, \u201calmost to the point of being depressed.\u201d This last, he had added as an after thought.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cShe was always so full of life, she was bursting at the seams,\u201d Ben said morosely. \u201cI wish I knew what was wrong.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWhen I examined her in town the day she arrived, she wasn\u2019t exactly what I would call forthcoming, but . . . I don\u2019t think life has been very kind to her since we saw her last,\u201d Paul had said. \u201cPhysically . . . she\u2019s in very poor shape. I\u2019m surprised she didn\u2019t collapse somewhere along the way . . . years ago. Poor physical condition CAN push a person to the edge emotionally, but apart from that . . . . \u201d He shrugged helplessly. \u201cMY medical training was strictly in the realm of the physical, Ben. When faced with the mental and emotional, I\u2019m very much like a fish out of water.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing and Stacy both insist she\u2019s heartsick,\u201d Ben said.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u201cCould be there\u2019s something to that,\u201d Paul said thoughtfully. \u201cI\u2019ve dealt with countless patients over the years, whose mental and emotional state made all the difference between whether they got better . . . or not. Now as to what bearing this has on what\u2019s ailing Miss McKenna . . . . \u201d He shrugged. \u201cI just plain don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI appreciate you looking in on her, Paul . . . . \u201d<\/em> <\/p>\n \u201cGood morning, Ben,\u201d Gretchen Braun greeted him warmly, as he stepped into the restaurant at the International Hotel. \u201cCan I get you anything?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI could use a cup of coffee,\u201d Ben replied, managing a weary smile, \u201cand some information.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cComing right up,\u201d Gretchen said, motioning to one of the waiters. She asked him for two cups of coffee and told him to serve them in the dining room. The young man nodded, and moved off. \u201cThis way, Ben,\u201d she said gesturing toward the dining room. \u201cWhat kind of information are you after?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLast night, Candy told me that someone was asking questions about my family two . . . three days ago,\u201d Ben said as he and Gretchen seated themselves at a table near the door. \u201cWe think the man\u2019s from somewhere back east . . . New York or maybe Philadelphia. That\u2019s all we know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, a man from New York DID check into the hotel three days ago,\u201d Gretchen said slowly, \u201cand yes . . . he asked about your family. General questions, Ben . . . how you, your sons, and daughter were doing . . . things of that nature. I didn\u2019t think anything of it at the time, what with him claiming to be a friend of a friend, or some such.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he by chance give you the name of this friend?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, and I didn\u2019t think to ask,\u201d Gretchen said ruefully.<\/p>\n \u201cDid he ask you any questions about Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe asked her age, and how long she\u2019d been living with you and your boys, but that was all,\u201d Gretchen replied. \u201cOh dear! I . . . I hope I haven\u2019t said or done anything wrong . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sure you didn\u2019t, Gretchen . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat Ponderosa of yours is known pretty far and wide, Ben,\u201d she babbled, \u201cmore so than you realize. Now mind, not EVERY Tom, Dick, and Harry, who gets off that stage asks, but occasionally, some do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGretchen . . . Gretchen, please . . . don\u2019t give it another thought,\u201d Ben pleaded, as he reached over and gently patted her hand. \u201cI\u2019m sure there was no harm done.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hope not,\u201d Gretchen said somberly. \u201cI\u2019d never forgive myself if— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sure the man didn\u2019t have any sinister intentions,\u201d Ben hastened to reassure the distraught woman seated across the table from him, speaking with a great deal more confidence that he felt himself, \u201cand . . . seeing that he and I share a mutual friend, whoever that is, I\u2019d thought getting in touch, maybe inviting him out to the Ponderosa for a visit might be the neighborly thing to do. Perhaps I can leave a message?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t see why not, on the off chance he comes back,\u201d Gretchen replied, deeply relieved upon hearing Ben\u2019s words of reassurance.<\/p>\n \u201cOn the, ummm . . . off chance, he . . . that he . . . comes back?\u201d Ben echoed with fast sinking heart.<\/p>\n \u201cHe checked out yesterday morning, Ben,\u201d Gretchen said. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry you missed him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he happen to mention where he was headed?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNot to me,\u201d she replied. \u201cYou might check with Mister Thatcher at the front desk.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will. Can you tell me what this man looked like?\u201d<\/p>\n The waiter discreetly arrived, and served the coffee.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d Gretchen said quietly.<\/p>\n The waiter inclined his head, then withdrew.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s about the same height and build as . . . as your oldest boy, Adam, when last I saw him,\u201d she said slowly. \u201cHe\u2019s also got the same dark, almost coal black hair. I\u2019m almost certain he was a military man . . . perhaps a veteran of the war, judging from his age and the way he carried himself. He always dressed well enough, a suit and tie, white shirt, clothes clean and pressed, but not what I\u2019d call fashionable.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA veteran, eh? How old would you say he was?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe wasn\u2019t a young man,\u201d Gretchen replied. \u201cIf I were to hazard a guess . . . I\u2019d say he was . . . maybe . . . about the same age as Adam must be now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMid to late thirties?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cAt least.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you remember his name?\u201d<\/p>\n Gretchen frowned. \u201cIt was . . . Hill . . . something . . . . \u201d She rose. \u201cI\u2019ll go get the registry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want to put you out, Gretchen . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s no trouble, Ben . . . no trouble at all,\u201d she said briskly. \u201cYou finish your coffee. I\u2019ll be right back.\u201d She returned a few moments later, struggling under the weight of the large, unwieldy tome.<\/p>\n Ben immediately rose, and hurried to the dining room entrance where she had paused for a moment to catch her breath. \u201cYou should\u2019ve asked ME to go fetch it,\u201d he chided her gently, as he relieved her of the burden. \u201cShall I take it back to our table?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, please,\u201d Gretchen replied. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m the one who should be thanking YOU. I really appreciate this, Gretchen,\u201d Ben said gratefully, as he fell in step behind her.<\/p>\n \u201cAnything to help out an old friend,\u201d Gretchen said, as they reached their table. She quickly moved aside their dishes, and the small vase of fresh cut flowers from its place at the center of the table. \u201cYou can put the registry down right here,\u201d she said gesturing to the generous amount of space, just opened up.<\/p>\n Ben nodded and did as she had asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNow let me see . . . . \u201d Gretchen murmured softly, as she opened the heavy book. She quickly turned back the pages to the date three days before, and glanced down the list of names. \u201cHere it is, Ben,\u201d she said, pointed to the name hastily scrawled on the line next to the date.<\/p>\n Ben picked up his cup and saucer, and took up position beside her. He glanced over her shoulder, his eyes following the line of her extended arm and pointing finger. \u201cZachary . . . Hilliard,\u201d he softly read aloud the name, written neatly within the lines, to the left of the place where her finger lightly touched the page. \u201c . . . interesting . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know him?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shook his head. \u201cThe name\u2019s not familiar,\u201d he replied. \u201cI just thought it interesting that he checked into the hotel the same day Paris arrived.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis . . . is she the friend who took sick the other day?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d Ben nodded his head.<\/p>\n \u201cShe and Mister Hilliard arrived on the same stage, Ben,\u201d Gretchen said. \u201cLuis . . . the young man I sent to fetch the doctor? He told me later that he saw both of them getting off the stage.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben found that piece of information very disturbing. He made a mental note to question Paris about her fellow passenger at the earliest opportunity. \u201cThank you, Gretchen . . . thank you very much. You\u2019ve been a great help.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re welcome. Now I\u2019d best get that registry back to the front desk before Mister Thatcher has a hissey fit.\u201d She took a deep breath, then reach down to gather up the ponderous tome lying open on the table before them.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll do no such thing,\u201d Ben chided her. \u201cI\u2019LL take the registry back to the front desk before Mister Thatcher has that hissey fit. It\u2019s the least I can do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll get no argument from ME,\u201d she said soberly. \u201cFor the life of me, I don\u2019t know how in the world a wiry little man like Mister Thatcher\u2019s able to heft these heavy things around all day.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps he\u2019s stronger than he looks,\u201d Ben suggested.<\/p>\n \u201cHe MUST be.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben paid for both cups of coffee, despite Gretchen\u2019s insistence they were on the house, and left a generous tip for the waiter. On his way out of the hotel, he stopped by the front desk. \u201cGood morning, Mister Thatcher,\u201d Ben greeted the short, wiry man standing behind the counter, impeccably attired in a black suit. \u201cI\u2019m returning your registry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Mister Cartwright,\u201d Lawrence Thatcher said primly. \u201cJust set it right there on the counter, please.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben obliged him. \u201cA quick question, if I may?\u201d he queried.<\/p>\n \u201cCertainly, Mister Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA man named Zachary Hilliard checked out yesterday morning, early,\u201d Ben said. \u201cDid he happen to mention where he might be headed?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe said something about meeting a business associate in Carson City,\u201d Lawrence replied, \u201cthen he asked for directions to the nearest livery stable.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, much obliged.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re quite welcome, Mister Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n While Ben Cartwright made his inquiries in Virginia City, the subject of his investigation had just finished a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, toast, and coffee at Eleanor Gerard\u2019s boarding house in Carson City.<\/p>\n \u201cMore coffee, Mister Hilliard?\u201d Eleanor Gerard asked. She was a plump, motherly woman, aged in her early to mid-forties. The chestnut brown curls framing her face accentuated its roundness. She wore a light green house dress, that brought out the green highlights in her hazel eyes.<\/p>\n Zachary Hilliard smiled back, and shook his head. \u201cNo thank you, Mrs. Gerard,\u201d he declined smoothly. \u201cI\u2019m stuffed. If I keep eating like this, I\u2019m be having to go on a diet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNonsense!\u201d Mrs. Gerard scolded in a good-natured tone. \u201cIf anything, you\u2019re too thin for a man of your height.\u201d<\/p>\n He deftly removed the watch from his vest pocket and snapped up the cover. \u201cI must be off, Mrs. Gerard,\u201d Zachary said, rising. He closed the cover over his watch and slipped it back into his pocket. \u201cCan you direct me to the Comstock Hotel? I\u2019m supposed to meet a business associate of mine there at ten.\u201d<\/p>\n Mrs. Gerard happily provided the directions.<\/p>\n Zachary thanked her politely, then set off. Mrs. Gerard\u2019s directions proved clear and easy to follow. After locating the Comstock Hotel, he entered and walked over to the front desk.<\/p>\n \u201cGood morning, Sir,\u201d the clerk greeted him politely. \u201cHow may I help you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m supposed to meet one of your guests,\u201d Zachary replied.<\/p>\n \u201cYour name, Sir?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHilliard. Mister Zachary Hilliard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh, yes,\u201d the desk clerk said. \u201cHe\u2019s expecting you. He\u2019s in number 212, upstairs . . . turn right . . . go all the way down to the very end of the hall.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary thanked the desk clerk and went up the stairs. The corridor on the second floor was long and narrow, its width barely sufficient to allow two people, moving in opposite directions, to squeeze past each other. Its only illumination came through a small, square shaped window set into the outside wall, near the ceiling. Zachary paused briefly at the top landing to allow his eyes time to adjust themselves from the brightness of the sunshine outside.<\/p>\n As he made his way down the hall toward room 212, the thin veneer of outward calm quickly evaporated. His heart raced within, slamming against his ribcage and the muscles of his chest with the force of a sledgehammer wielded by a very strong man. With each step, he unconsciously drew his long fingers together, one by one, into a pair of tight, rock hard fists, in a desperate attempt to quell his hands\u2019 trembling.<\/p>\n He found the room at the far end of the hall, just as the clerk had said. At the door, he paused for a moment to take a breath. \u201cRemember those singing lessons,\u201d he silently exhorted himself. \u201cRemember those breath exercises . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cIn, one, two, three; HOLD one, two, three; now out one, two three . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Zachary heard again the voice of one Adelia Margaret Mae O\u2019Connor, the woman who had valiantly attempted to teach his youngest sister and himself to sing.<\/p>\n \u201cDeep, EVEN breaths, Zachary,\u201d she admonished him once again in that clear, firm, bell like tone. \u201cDeep . . . EVEN . . . breaths.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n He squeezed his eyes shut.<\/p>\n \u201cNow again . . . IN . . . one . . . two . . . three, that\u2019s MUCH better; now HOLD for one . . . two . . . three, and OUT. One . . . two . . . three . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Zachary Hilliard brought to bear every ounce of will and determination he possessed to keep his breaths slow and even, to breathe in, to hold, and to breathe out once again, in cadence to Miss O\u2019Connor\u2019s instruction, chanted more than spoken. He allowed her to lead him through the exercise again, and again, until at last, he felt his heart slow, resuming its normal pace . . . and the trembling in his hands finally still.<\/p>\n For a moment after, he remained, with eyes closed, mustering what shreds of courage remained in the stillness that surrounded him. Then, suddenly, his eyes snapped wide open. Zachary Hilliard took another deep breath, then pulled himself up to full of his height, and knocked on the closed door before him.<\/p>\n \u201cWho is it?\u201d a masculine voice inquired curtly from within.<\/p>\n \u201cLieutenant Hilliard, Sir, reporting as ordered,\u201d he responded, inwardly marveling at how clear, how firm and steady his voice sounded.<\/p>\n \u201cCome in, Lieutenant.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary entered and saluted.<\/p>\n John McKenna crisply returned the salute. He was a tall man, standing well over six feet. His regal posture accentuated his height, gifting him with an intimidating air despite his thin, wiry build. He wore a custom made black three-piece suit and tie, with a starched white cotton shirt. He had a full head of dark brown, wavy hair and mustache, both neatly trimmed, and piercing sky blue eyes. \u201cAt ease, Lieutenant,\u201d he said, as he stiffly made his way over to the nearest chair, with the aid of a solid oak cane. \u201cReport.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe girl you seek lives with a man by the name of Benjamin Cartwright and his sons, on their ranch, the Ponderosa,\u201d Zachary gave his report in crisp, measured tones. \u201cAccording to the records filed in the Virginia City courthouse . . . records, accessible to the general public, Sir . . . this Mister Cartwright legally adopted her within two months<\/p>\n of bringing her to his home four and one half years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n A sardonic half smile tugged hard on the corner of John\u2019s mouth. \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAn ironic happenstance if ever there was one,\u201d John remarked acerbically, the smile quickly fading. \u201cYou ARE certain about this, Lieutenant?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir, absolutely certain.\u201d<\/p>\n John McKenna took a moment to digest the information. \u201cI . . . don\u2019t suppose you\u2019ve had the opportunity to . . . as yet . . . . ?\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary closed his eyes and swallowed nervously. \u201cI had the opportunity, Sir . . . and failed,\u201d he replied, trying his best to focus his thoughts, his powers of concentration upon his words and the tone of voice by which he spoke them, rather than the uneasy churning deep in the pit of his stomach. \u201cFor that, I take full responsibility and . . . submit myself for disciplinary action.\u201d<\/p>\n In the dreadful, interminable silence that followed, every muscle in Zachary Hilliard\u2019s body tensed, as he mentally braced himself.<\/p>\n \u201cTo be perfectly honest, I\u2019m glad your attempt failed,\u201d John said slowly, finally, at long last, breaking the uneasy quiet. \u201cNo disciplinary action will be taken, Lieutenant. Not THIS time. There\u2019s going to be a change of plans.\u201d A nasty smile spread itself slowly across his thin lips. \u201cI\u2019ve just decided to kill TWO birds with one stone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . uhhh, t-two birds, Sir?\u201d Zachary queried with fast sinking heart. \u201cWho else besides\u2014?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe girl\u2019s father, of course,\u201d John replied in a tone of voice faintly condescending. \u201cIt\u2019s a personal matter . . . a very shameful moment in my family\u2019s history . . . one I do not feel at liberty to discuss.\u201d This last he punctuated with a dismissive wave of his hand. \u201cIs there anything ELSE to report, Lieutenant?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir. There\u2019s been an unexpected development,\u201d Zachary said, openly flinching under the intense, malevolent glare that had suddenly appeared on John McKenna\u2019s face. \u201cThe Cartwrights h-have an unexpected house guest. She and I arrived in Virginia City on the same stage, though at the time I did NOT recognize her. She has changed much, and not for the better.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and who is this unexpected guest?\u201d John demanded, his scowl deepening.<\/p>\n \u201cParis McKenna,\u201d Zachary replied. \u201cYour sister, Captain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally!\u201d John\u2019s lips curved upward to form a tight, near lipless smile. \u201cDid SHE recognize YOU?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI am reasonably sure she did not, Captain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . well . . . well . . . . \u201d John murmured softly. \u201cI have them all, Lieutenant . . . all three of them . . . right here . . . . \u201d He held out his hands, open, with palms turned upward, curling his fingers and tensing them, as he might if he were grasping hold of something tangible. \u201cThey\u2019re as good as right here. All I have to do is reach out . . . and grab them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir,\u201d Zachary stammered, frightened by the unholy, malevolent gleam in the eyes of his former commanding officer and his friend. \u201cYour . . . orders?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre the men still in place?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir. The men remain in their places . . . carrying out the duties assigned them . . . awaiting further orders.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll . . . have to revise my plans, Lieutenant . . . . \u201d John said slowly. \u201cMy original plans could have been expanded upon to deal with Mister Cartwright in addition to the girl . . . . \u201d He grimaced. \u201cBut my sister . . . no! SHE\u2019D, like as not, see through it in an instant. That bitch was always too damned smart for her own good . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Zachary replied, not knowing what else to say.<\/p>\n \u201cTell Sergeant Collier that he and his men are NOT to take any further action against the girl,\u201d John said curtly. \u201cThey are to continue keeping her and . . . and that . . . that entire misbegotten family under close surveillance, until I say otherwise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will inform Sergeant Collier, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and I want daily reports, Lieutenant.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary blanched. \u201cD-Daily reports?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDaily reports,\u201d John snapped. He glared over at Zachary, through eyes narrowed with suspicion. \u201cIs there a problem, Lieutenant?\u201d he queried in a low, menacing tone.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir. No problem, Sir. I\u2019ll see to everything,\u201d Zachary responded, his voice a dead monotone. He silently wondered if condemned men, sentenced to hang by the neck until dead, felt as he did now, upon taking the very first steps of that long, final walk toward the gallows.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Stacy stood before the fast closed door to the guest room, leaning heavily for support on the cane Pa had left her earlier, furiously debating. The angry bravado she had felt yesterday, after taking that tumble off of Golden Boy\u2019s back, had all but deserted her this morning. She swallowed nervously, then turned, with every intention of going back to her own room.<\/p>\n \u201cOh no you don\u2019t, Stacy Louise . . . . \u201d she grimaced, \u201c . . . Cartwright! You can\u2019t keep putting it off. Pa was absolutely right when he said you\u2019ve gotta face what ever it is that\u2019s scaring you.\u201d<\/em> Miss Paris seemed a logical place to start. Stacy closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then, drawing herself up to full height, she raised her hand and knocked on the door.<\/p>\n \u201cCome on in.\u201d It was Hoss.<\/p>\n Relieved and grateful that she didn\u2019t have to face Miss Paris alone, Stacy very cautiously opened the door. She saw Miss Paris lying on the bed, propped up by a mound of pillows. Her eyelids, nose, and upper lip were red, and swollen, and her hands trembled slightly. The dark circles beneath her eyes, and her sunken cheeks lent her careworn face an eerie, skull like appearance. Stacy shuddered, unable to help herself.<\/p>\n Hoss occupied a chair next to the bed. \u201cCome on in, Li\u2019l Sister,\u201d he invited with a grin. \u201cHow\u2019re YOU feelin\u2019 this mornin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy head doesn\u2019t hurt anymore, and the lump\u2019s just about all gone,\u201d she replied, as she started into the room.<\/p>\n Paris\u2019 heart lurched upon seeing the girl enter the room so stiffly, and with such a pronounced limp. \u201cOh dear!\u201d she gasped. \u201cWhat happened to YOU?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust a slight mishap, Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy said, determined to make light of the entire incident. \u201cThe only thing badly hurt was my dignity.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSit down here,\u201d Hoss said, rising.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are YOU gonna sit?\u201d Stacy demanded, fearful that he was going to go off and leave her alone with this strange woman, who frightened her so very much.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll take that chair.\u201d Hoss inclined his head toward an easy chair on the other side of Paris\u2019 bed. \u201cFirst off, though, I\u2019m gonna get ya somethin\u2019 prop up that sprained ankle o\u2019 yours.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be ok, Hoss,\u201d Stacy protested.<\/p>\n \u201cThe doc said for ya t\u2019 keep it up as much as ya can,\u201d Hoss reminded her, as he walked over to the ornate, French provincial vanity, set up against the wall facing the bed. It had belonged to Joe\u2019s mother, Marie. Hoss slid the bench out from under the table and carried it over to the chair, occupied by Stacy. He, then, removed a spare pillow from the wardrobe and gently placed it under Stacy\u2019s ankle. \u201cHow\u2019s THAT?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve gotta admit . . . it DOES feel a lot better when I prop it up,\u201d Stacy confessed.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris \u2018n me was just talkin\u2019 about you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh! So THAT\u2019S why my ears were burning,\u201d Stacy joked.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris . . . THIS is Stacy,\u201d Hoss said, by way of making introductions. \u201cI know ya met her the night y\u2019 arrived . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat first night\u2019s all pretty much a blur,\u201d Paris said rueful, yet inwardly relieved. What little she did remember was enough to make her wince. \u201cI\u2019m afraid I . . . well . . . I WAS pretty far gone.\u201d She favored Stacy with a weary smile, and held out a trembling hand. \u201cHow do you do, Stacy? I\u2019m very pleased to meet you under more, ummm . . . shall we say favorable circumstances?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Miss Paris. I\u2019m pleased to meet you, too,\u201d Stacy said as she leaned over and gently took the older woman\u2019s extended hand.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss and I were just talking about horses.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo YOU ride?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNot anymore, I\u2019m afraid,\u201d Paris said wistfully. \u201cBut I did . . . a lot! When I was your age . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I remember rightly, you were real fine horsewoman, yourself,\u201d Hoss said. \u201cEvery bit as good as Li\u2019l Sister here. Maybe when you\u2019re a bit stronger— \u201d<\/p>\n Paris shook her head. \u201cIt\u2019s been too long, Eric,\u201d she said, her voice filled with deep regret, \u201cand my health these days is such that . . . . \u201d She sighed and dolefully shook her head.<\/p>\n \u201cY\u2019 never forget,\u201d Hoss said, favoring their guest with an encouraging smile. \u201cMaybe . . . once y\u2019 get t\u2019 feeling better . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll see, Eric,\u201d Paris murmured softly, with an air of resignation and indifference.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen you used to ride, did you have a horse of your own?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Paris shook her head. \u201cMy father was in the Army then . . . stationed at Fort Charlotte.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe told me your pa was in charge of the horses there,\u201d Stacy said, trying her best to ignore her growing apprehension.<\/p>\n \u201cOur family lived in Mormon Springs. Back then, it was a nice, quiet little town about a mile or so from the fort,\u201d Paris said. \u201cI . . . didn\u2019t have the place or the means to keep a horse of my own . . . but, I did have my pick of the cavalry horses.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you know that I . . . that I met Pa, Hoss, and Joe at Fort Charlotte?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cSo I\u2019ve been told,\u201d Paris replied.<\/p>\n All of a sudden the room turned hot and stifling. Out of the corners of her eyes, Stacy could almost swear that she actually saw the walls moving in on her closer and closer.<\/p>\n Hoss studied his sister with an anxious frown. \u201cI was tellin\u2019 Miss Paris about Golden Boy,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cH-He\u2019s turned out to be a real good saddle horse, but he\u2019s chock full of high spirits,\u201d Stacy said, slowly warming to a favorite topic despite her escalating trepidation. \u201cI\u2019m . . . almost tempted to keep him myself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think Mister Hansen\u2019d care for THAT,\u201d Hoss pointed out. \u201cHe\u2019s got his heart set on givin\u2019 him to his daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTruth to tell, Blaze Face wouldn\u2019t like it very much, either,\u201d Stacy admitted.<\/p>\n \u201cBlaze Face?!\u201d Paris gasped, her eyes round with shock.<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Ma\u2019am,\u201d Stacy said, taken aback by Paris\u2019 reaction. \u201cBlaze Face is my horse.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIsn\u2019t that extraordinary,\u201d Paris murmured. \u201cMY favorite horse . . . when Da was stationed at Fort Charlotte . . . w-was also named . . . Blaze Face.\u201d<\/p>\n That fact only served to increase Stacy\u2019s anxiety. \u201cMiss Paris . . . . \u201d she was afraid to ask, but knew she must. \u201cWere you and your family at Fort Charlotte . . . when . . . when I was there?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris shook her head. \u201cMy father retired from the Army . . . . \u201d she fell silent to do a bit of mental figuring, \u201c . . . that would have been a year perhaps . . . maybe two before you were born, if I . . . if I\u2019m correct in assuming your age to be fifteen or sixteen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m fifteen now,\u201d Stacy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cMy family . . . my parents and two sisters . . . went out to California, right after we left Fort Charlotte,\u201d Paris continued. \u201cI . . . heard later that they eventually returned to Mormon Springs, and bought some farm land just outside of town.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDidn\u2019t you go with your family?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo. No, I didn\u2019t,\u201d Paris shook her head. \u201cI was of age when we left Fort Charlotte, and chomping at the bit to be on my own. I came here, stayed for a time and left. But, I never went back home again. I DID visit them briefly . . . almost sixteen years ago now. After that, I never saw them again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cStacy, I don\u2019t think that\u2019s any o\u2019 your\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Eric, it\u2019s alright,\u201d Paris intervened. She, then, turned her attention back to Stacy. \u201cY\u2019 see . . . my family and I . . . by then, we weren\u2019t getting on all that well. The very last time I went to visit them . . . my father and I got ourselves into a terrible row. The next morning, he and Mam . . . they ordered me to leave as soon as I could make the arrangements and to never come back.\u201d She felt a sharp pang of envy, remembering the love Ben Cartwright had expressed for his daughter, the young woman seated before her.<\/p>\n \u201cThey died six years later, when their house caught fire one night and burned to the ground. My brother, John, told me that none of \u2018em made it out.\u201d Including poor Rose Miranda. \u201cI figured . . . HOPED actually . . . that they all d-died mercifully . . . in their sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy said quietly. On impulse she leaned over and covered one of Paris\u2019 hands with her own.<\/p>\n Paris nodded mutely, genuinely touched by the gesture.<\/p>\n \u201cI forgot y\u2019 also have a brother,\u201d Hoss said, intending to steer the course of conversation away from the tragic deaths of Miss Paris\u2019 parents and sisters. \u201cY\u2019 ever hear from him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe less I hear FROM him or ABOUT him, the better I like it,\u201d Paris snapped, as she furiously wiped away the tears from her eyes and cheeks with the heel of her hand.<\/p>\n The three fell into a discomfiting silence, broken, after what seemed an eternity, by a knock at the door. Before anyone could reply, the door opened and Hop Sing entered, bearing an enormous tray. \u201cGood morning, good morning,\u201d he greeted everyone with a big smile. \u201cHop Sing bring up everybody breakfast.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Hop Sing,\u201d Stacy said.<\/p>\n \u201cFor Miss Stacy tea and toast. Doctor say you eat light today,\u201d Hop Sing said, as he handed her a plate with two pieces of toast, generously slathered with his special strawberry jam. \u201cMister Hoss . . . Miss Paris . . . Hop Sing make nice, big breakfast.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh dear! I\u2019m not sure I can\u2014 \u201d Paris started to protest.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris need to eat,\u201d Hop Sing admonished her severely, as he handed her a plate heaped high with flapjacks, stacked one on top of the other, dripping with butter and maple syrup. \u201cFlapjacks good. Stick to ribs.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo the best y\u2019 can, Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss exhorted her with a smile, as he accepted a plate with a stack twice as high as the one Hop Sing had just served Paris.<\/p>\n \u201cEverybody eat,\u201d Hop Sing said. \u201cWhen Hop Sing come back, plate better be clean, or Hop Sing quit. Go back to China. AFTER Hop Sing make Miss Stacy go back to bed, take nice long nap.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh no,\u201d Stacy groaned in complete and utter dismay. \u201cDo I HAVE to?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoctor say Miss Stacy need rest,\u201d Hop Sing declared.<\/p>\n \u201cBut . . . PA said I could get up,\u201d Stacy argued.<\/p>\n \u201cPapa ALSO tell Miss Stacy behave. Make sure she get rest. Papa tell Hop Sing Miss Stacy promise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, all right!\u201d Stacy ungraciously accepted the inevitable.<\/p>\n \u201cTell ya what, Li\u2019l Sister,\u201d Hoss said, after Hop Sing had left the room. \u201cYou g\u2019won back t\u2019 bed after y\u2019 finish eatin\u2019, \u2018n have a real good nap. I gotta finish up with m\u2019 mornin\u2019 chores, but once I got that done, I\u2019ll come up \u2018n take ya downstairs. How\u2019s THAT sound?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat sounds great,\u201d Stacy said. \u201cThink maybe we could play a few games of checkers?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure \u2018nuff,\u201d Hoss agreed with a smile. \u201cIt\u2019ll be a real pleasure playin\u2019 with someone who doesn\u2019t cheat for a change.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and who is it among you that cheats at playing checkers?\u201d Paris asked.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe,\u201d Hoss and Stacy said together, in unison.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n At five minutes before noon, Ben trudged wearily through the front door, with head bowed and shoulders sagging. He quietly closed the door then divested himself of gun belt and hat.<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . you\u2019re back!\u201d Hoss said by way of greeting, as he entered the great room from the direction of the kitchen with a freshly made powdered donut in hand. \u201cHop Sing says dinner\u2019ll be ready in\u2014 \u201d He stopped abruptly upon getting a good look at his father\u2019s face. Its lines and hollows seemed deeper, and his eyes were round with trepidation and fear. \u201cPa, what is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . the good news is, I have the name of the man who was asking questions about us . . . and about Stacy a few days ago,\u201d Ben said. \u201cHis name is Zachary Hilliard, and he\u2019s from New York.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid ya get a chance to talk to him?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shook his head. \u201cThat\u2019s the bad news. He checked out of the hotel yesterday, and went to Carson City . . . supposedly to take care of some business.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY\u2019 think maybe he\u2019s one o\u2019 Stacy\u2019s blood kin?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe thought HAS crossed my mind, Hoss,\u201d Ben replied, as they walked over to the settee together. \u201cEither that or a Pinkerton man hired by her blood kin. I spoke to Lucas about this . . . . \u201d Lucas Milburn had been the Cartwright family\u2019s attorney and a very good friend for many years.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019d HE say?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe bottom line is . . . her adoption is legal, and if contested, WILL stand up in court,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cAs you know, the army made a good faith effort to locate whatever blood kin Stacy may have had. Lucas has an affidavit attesting to this AND attesting to the fact that no one ever came forward to claim her, signed by Major Baldwin, and properly notarized . . . on file in his office. He also told me that given the amount of time that\u2019s passed . . . and Stacy\u2019s age now, that she would more than likely be given her choice.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . \u2018n I know dang well she\u2019d decide t\u2019 stay right here,\u201d Hoss declared with an emphatic nod of his head. \u201cWe were meant t\u2019 be together, Pa . . . as a family . . . \u2018n we knew it t\u2019 very first time we ever laid eyes on each other.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe sure did,\u201d Ben agreed. \u201cHoss . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere\u2019s Stacy now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLast I saw, she was in talkin\u2019 with Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss replied. \u201cYou want me t\u2019 go up \u2018n fetch her down?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shook his head. \u201cI need to speak with Paris, but it can wait.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about? If y\u2019 don\u2019t mind me askin\u2019 . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis Zachary Hilliard who was asking about us and about Stacy . . . Gretchen Braun told me he checked into the hotel the same day Paris arrived in town,\u201d Ben said with an anxious frown. \u201cShe also said that Luis saw them get off the stage together. Do YOU recall seeing her with a man about the same age and build as your brother, Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir.\u201d Hoss shook his head. \u201cWhen I bumped into Miss Paris, she was headed for the hotel . . . alone. I was comin\u2019 up the street from the other way.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI told Roy about Zachary Hilliard . . . and about the incident with Stacy\u2019s saddle,\u201d Ben said. \u201cHe\u2019s going to send wires to the New York City Police Department and to the Pinkerton Detective Agency.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss frowned. \u201cY\u2019 think the two may be related?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, Son,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cBut I can\u2019t completely rule out the possibility either . . . not until I know more.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI think you\u2019ll find this much more practical than just pulling your hair back, and tying it at the nape of your neck,\u201d Paris said, as she deftly wove Stacy\u2019s long hair into a single, thick French braid. \u201cYou\u2019ll be able to ride with the wind in your hair . . . without all the bothersome tangles.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris sat on the edge of her bed, clad in a plain white night gown and a pale blue bathrobe. The latter was worn, and frayed along the cuffs and hemline, but still in one piece. Stacy was dressed in what she normally wore at home on the Ponderosa: a pair of dungarees, with a loose fitting shirt. On her feet, she wore a pair of red and white striped socks, borrowed from Hoss. His were the only ones that fit comfortably over her swollen, bandaged ankle. She sat on the bed, with her back to Paris, and her injured leg stretched out before her.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you braid your hair like this, too, when YOU went out riding?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy . . . exactly like this,\u201d Paris replied as she wove the last plait and attached the fastener. \u201cYou\u2019re getting the benefit of my experience.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy said with a shy smile.<\/p>\n \u201cMy pleasure,\u201d Paris said, returning Stacy\u2019s smile with a warm, friendly one of her own. \u201cI sure hope lunch is going to be ready soon. I\u2019m hungry as a bear.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis, THAT is going to be music to Hop Sing\u2019s ears!\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy and Paris turned, and found Ben standing framed in the open doorway between the hall and the guest room. Hoss stood behind him, a little to his right.<\/p>\n \u201cHi, Pa,\u201d Stacy greeted him with a big smile, as she carefully slid off the edge of the bed onto her good foot. She held on to one of the end bedposts to keep her balance and for support. \u201cDid you remember the lemon drops?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I did, but you don\u2019t get a single one until AFTER dinner,\u201d Ben said firmly.<\/p>\n Her face fell. \u201cWhen\u2019ll dinner be ready?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWe got just enough time t\u2019 get washed up, Li\u2019l Sister,\u201d Hoss said, as he stepped around his father, and entered the room. \u201cWhy don\u2019t we g\u2019won down to the kitchen?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris retrieved the cane Stacy had been using from the narrow place between her bed and night table. \u201cHere you are, Stacy.\u201d She offered it to the girl with a smile.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy said, as she accepted the cane, then turned to follow Hoss out of the room. She suddenly paused, mid-stride, in the center of the room. \u201cPa . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Seeing Stacy as he did now, with her hair braided that way . . . standing straight and tall, regarding him with those bright blue eyes . . . she was the very image of a much younger Paris McKenna.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . are you and Miss Paris coming?\u201d<\/p>\n All Ben could do was stare over at his young daughter, too shocked, too stunned to even speak.<\/p>\n \u201cPa?!\u201d Stacy frowned. \u201cPa . . . are you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head to clear it of the unsettling vision. \u201cI . . . f-fine,\u201d he stammered, as he slowly opened his eyes. \u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you sure?\u201d Stacy queried dubiously.<\/p>\n Ben offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. \u201cI\u2019m fine, Young Woman,\u201d he said in a steadier tone of voice. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you g\u2019won down with Hoss? Miss Paris and I will be along shortly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPromise?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI promise,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n \u201cSo do I,\u201d Paris added.<\/p>\n Ben waited until his son and daughter had left the room, closing the door behind them. \u201cI want to apologize for neglecting you yesterday,\u201d he began. \u201cI really AM very sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen, you DON\u2019T owe me an apology,\u201d Paris said, with her head bowed, her eyes glued to the hands folded loosely in her lap. \u201cI certainly don\u2019t begrudge your taking care of Stacy after that tumble she took off of her horse yesterday, and besides . . . it\u2019s not like I\u2019m a . . . a wanted guest . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis, if I hadn\u2019t wanted you here, I certainly wouldn\u2019t have invited you to come and stay with us,\u201d Ben said gruffly. Though he looked her straight in the face, his eyes fell just short of meeting hers.<\/p>\n \u201cYou invited me here because you were forced to by circumstance,\u201d Paris said curtly, \u201cand while I AM very grateful, I certainly don\u2019t expect\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I hadn\u2019t wanted you to come here, I could have just as easily played the good Samaritan by putting you up at the International Hotel, and paying Doctor Martin to look in on ya,\u201d Ben said tersely. \u201cWhile it\u2019s true that you\u2019re the very last person in the world I ever expected to have drop in unexpectedly, I STILL consider you an old friend, and . . . I\u2019m NOT going to turn away an old friend in need.\u201d<\/p>\n A strained silence fell between them.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry,\u201d Ben murmured contritely, at length.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018S ok.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI need to ask you a few questions . . . if I may?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright,\u201d Paris agreed with an indifferent shrug.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . understand there was another passenger on the stage with you, when you arrived in Virginia City a couple of days ago,\u201d Ben said. \u201cA man, about my height . . . maybe a little taller . . . with dark hair, aged in his mid to late thirties.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI remember him . . . mainly because he and I were the only passengers on that stage,\u201d Paris replied. \u201cWhat about him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019m hoping YOU can tell ME.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe and I both got on in Freedonia,\u201d Paris said slowly. \u201cI remember him telling the driver he was from New York, that he was on his way out to San Francisco. Apart from that . . . . \u201d she shrugged.<\/p>\n \u201cHe said he was on his way out to San Francisco . . . yet he got off here . . . in Virginia City,\u201d Ben said slowly. \u201cThat didn\u2019t strike you as odd?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course not,\u201d Paris snapped, feeling herself oddly on the defensive. \u201cThe stage pulled in at a little past noon, and wasn\u2019t due to leave until somewhere around three . . . maybe three-thirty. I was headed for San Francisco, too, Ben . . . yet I got off here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHad you NOT taken ill . . . you would\u2019ve boarded the stage again whenever it was scheduled to leave, and continued on to San Francisco,\u201d Ben hastened to point out. \u201cYour fellow passenger . . . didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and just HOW . . . exactly . . . am I supposed to know this?!\u201d Paris demanded indignantly. \u201cI took ill and passed out, remember? When I finally came to, the stage had already left. There\u2019s no possible way I could have known\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEither the man changed his mind about going on to San Francisco . . . OR, he lied about his destination,\u201d Ben said through clenched teeth. \u201cDid he say anything to you about staying in Virginia City?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Paris immediately replied in a voice, stone cold.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat DID you two talk about?\u201d Ben pressed.<\/p>\n \u201cNothing,\u201d she snapped.<\/p>\n \u201cNothing?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s right . . . nothing!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe entire way out from Freedonia?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen we boarded the stage, we said hello,\u201d she replied, annoyed and exasperated. \u201cWe may have commented on the weather, but I can\u2019t remember for sure, and to be perfectly up front and honest, I don\u2019t much care.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a long way between Freedonia and Virginia City, Paris, and quite frankly, I find it difficult to believe\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you calling me a liar, Ben?\u201d she demanded, rudely cutting him off, mid-sentence.<\/p>\n \u201cI just find it difficult the believe that two people could travel such a long way . . . without talking to each other,\u201d Ben said bluntly.<\/p>\n \u201cHE wasn\u2019t the talkative sort, and I didn\u2019t feel up to making conversation,\u201d Paris replied. \u201cThat\u2019s it, pure and simple.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t even tell you his name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . nor did I ask,\u201d she returned acerbically. \u201cNow, if you DON\u2019T mind\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI found out last night that your fellow passenger spent a good part of the afternoon, the day the two of ya arrived, asking the good people of Virginia City questions about my family, especially Stacy,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cYour family and the Ponderosa ARE well known in this neck of the woods, Ben,\u201d Paris immediately pointed out. \u201cThat a stranger would ask questions about you, shouldn\u2019t be all that surprising . . . though, I have to admit his interest in Stacy puzzles me, unless . . . . Is it possible he\u2019s a blood relative?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf he is, he certainly took long enough to crawl out from behind the woodwork,\u201d Ben said rancorously.<\/p>\n \u201cSurely he can\u2019t challenge the adoption at this late date,\u201d Paris protested.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d Ben shook his head. \u201cI checked with my lawyer while I was in town. He said if a blood relative DID challenge the adoption, the choice, more than likely, would be Stacy\u2019s, given her age now and the length of time that\u2019s passed . . . among other things.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019d choose to stay here with you, Hoss, and Joe,\u201d Paris said with quiet conviction. \u201cI hope you know that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben replied, his manner softening, as his thoughts drifted back to the day he signed the papers, making one Stacy Louise . . . her real last name unknown . . . legally his daughter . . . . \u201c . . . all that needs to be done now is for you to sign your name right here, Ben,\u201d John said, pointing to the blank line at the bottom of the document, up against the right margin. \u201cLucas and I will sign over here as witnesses.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cBefore I sign, I want Stacy\u2019s consent to be a matter of record,\u201d Ben said quietly.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cBen, legally, Stacy IS a minor,\u201d John said. \u201cAs such, her consent is not required.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cBe that as it may, John . . . I still want her consent to be a matter of record.\u201d [3]<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cAlright . . . . \u201d John looked past Ben and made eye contact with Stacy, who stood behind her father, sandwiched between her brothers. Hop Sing stood on the other side of Joe. \u201cStacy, is it your will to be adopted into the Cartwright family?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Stacy left her place between Hoss and Joe, and walked over to Ben. \u201cAre you asking me if I want Pa . . . I mean Mister Cartwright to adopt me?\u201d she asked very solemnly, as she slipped her small hand into Ben\u2019s larger one.<\/em><\/p>\n Lucas smiled. \u201cThat\u2019s exactly what we\u2019re asking, Stacy.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cMy answer is yes,\u201d she replied, without hesitation, \u201cI DO want Mister Cartwright to adopt me . . . . \u201d She paused briefly, then added in a voice barely audible, \u201cmore than just about anything . . . . \u201d <\/em> \u201cAlright . . . . \u201d she agreed warily.<\/p>\n \u201cDoes the name Zachary Hilliard mean anything to you?\u201d<\/p>\n Her face had turned white as a sheet, even before he finished asking the question.<\/p>\n \u201cThen . . . you DO know him,\u201d Ben immediately pounced, his eyes flashing with anger.<\/p>\n \u201cI know the NAME, damn it . . . NOT the passenger,\u201d Paris hotly defended herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep ragged breath. \u201cThe Zachary Hilliard I know went to Westpoint with my brother,\u201d she explained through clenched teeth. \u201cJohn was a year ahead, but he and Zachary became close friends. He served under my brother during the war. I met him once . . . but THAT was years ago . . . while John was still at Westpoint.\u201d She glared up at Ben, her eyes smoldering with fury. \u201cBen, I swear . . . on my mother\u2019s grave, I SWEAR . . . I did NOT recognize the man on the stage with me as someone I know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis . . . so HELP me . . . if I find out you\u2019re lying\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m NOT,\u201d she snapped. \u201cBen\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWould you mind telling me exactly what the hell\u2019s going on around here?!\u201d Paris rounded on him furiously. \u201cIt\u2019s the LEAST you can do, in return for subjecting me to . . . to . . . to what amounts to a damn\u2019 bloody Spanish Inquisition\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened to Stacy yesterday out in the corral was no accident,\u201d Ben said in a voice that dripped icicles.<\/p>\n \u201cI hope you\u2019re not accusing ME of\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . I\u2019m not,\u201d Ben said curtly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat makes you so sure it WASN\u2019T an accident?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe cinch strap was cut. Not ALL the way through . . . just enough for normal wear and tear to finish breaking it apart.\u201d<\/p>\n For a moment, Paris was too stunned to speak, or even move. She sat there, clutching her quilt so tightly, her knuckles had turned white. Her eyes were round with horror.<\/p>\n \u201cIt happened during the time your fellow passenger was making inquiries about Stacy . . . and the rest of my family,\u201d Ben continued.<\/p>\n \u201cC-Coincidence, Ben,\u201d Paris murmured upon finding her voice. \u201cCoincidence. It HAS to be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re probably right,\u201d Ben said. \u201cBut, I can\u2019t rule out the possibility that the two incidents are related . . . remote though the chances may be . . . until I know more.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . I\u2019m sorry, Paris. It wasn\u2019t my intention to upset you,\u201d Ben continued, \u201cbut in the interests of keeping my daughter safe\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d . . . forgotten how fierce you can be when it comes down to protecting your children,\u201d Paris said wearily. \u201cYour sons as w-well as your daughter. Times like now . . . you remind me of an old brooding mother hen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPaul and Lily Martin liken me to a ferocious mother grizzly bear,\u201d Ben said ruefully. \u201cI\u2019m . . . NOT sorry I asked the questions, but I AM sorry that I upset you so terribly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll get over it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat NOW, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan you tell me how to get in touch with John?\u201d Ben asked. There was a pleading note in his voice. \u201cIf the man who was asking about Stacy is indeed the Zachary Hilliard he knows, maybe he could shed some light on what the man\u2019s up to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wish I could help you, Ben,\u201d Paris said ruefully, \u201cbut the truth is . . . I have no idea in the world where he\u2019s living now . . . what he\u2019s doing . . . whether he\u2019s alive or dead . . . and up until right now, this very minute, I\u2019ve not much cared.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cWhere Miss Paris?\u201d Hop Sing demanded indignantly, as Ben slowly descended the remaining half dozen steps. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, with his arms folded across his chest, his feet positioned shoulder width apart.<\/p>\n \u201cFighter\u2019s stance . . . . \u201d<\/em> Ben silently noted with dismay.<\/p>\n \u201cShe comin\u2019 down?\u201d Hoss asked, as he slowly rose to his feet. He had been sitting in the blue chair over next to the fireplace.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n Hoss\u2019 face fell. \u201cHow come, Pa?\u201d he asked. \u201cShe\u2019d told Stacy \u2018n me that she was hungry as a bear.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s . . . got a headache, Hoss\u2014 \u201d Ben began.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris headache very sudden,\u201d Hop Sing growled, favoring his number one boss of the Ponderosa with a dark, angry scowl.<\/p>\n \u201cShe told me that she wants to sleep,\u201d Ben said tersely, then softened. \u201cHop Sing, why don\u2019t you fix her a plate and keep it warm?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy you badger Miss Paris with question?!\u201d Hop Sing snapped.<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing, THAT will be enough!\u201d Ben growled . . . .<\/p>\n Somewhere in the dark, two men argued. She was too far away to hear their words, but their bitter animosity came through loud and clear. She also heard the hushed drone of women\u2019s voices in the dark, somewhere close by, striking a troubled discord against the men. No words, only voices. As the men\u2019s anger escalated, their voices grew louder and louder. The women\u2019s voices, however, grew softer, until they finally died away to a frightening silence. Sounds followed, of flesh striking flesh, a distant scream, footsteps, and the roar of a mighty, evil wind.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cRun, child . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cRun . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cStacy.\u201d<\/p>\n She gasped, and started so violently, she nearly rolled right off the settee, upon which she found herself lying. For one brief, heart-stopping moment, she had no idea in the world where she was.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Kid . . . you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy turned and found herself staring up into Joe\u2019s face. He was seated on the coffee table next to the settee, studying her with an anxious frown.<\/p>\n \u201cY-yeah . . . I\u2019m ok . . . I think,\u201d she stammered. \u201cWhere\u2019d YOU come from?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been helping Candy and the other men with the horses,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cYou and Hoss have sure done a great job with Golden Boy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat must have been some dream just now,\u201d Joe said, as he helped her sit up.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah . . . it was one of those dreams that seems so real while it\u2019s happening, it\u2019s a shock to wake up. In fact, I don\u2019t even remember dozing off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know how you feel,\u201d Joe said with a sympathetic smile. \u201cI\u2019ve had more than my share of those, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStrange dream . . . the only thing I can remember is these two men arguing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . Pa and Hop Sing were kinda snapping at each other just now,\u201d Joe said. \u201cCould be that\u2019s what triggered it.\u201d He noted her pale face, her trembling hands, and her eyes round and staring, with concern. \u201cYou SURE you\u2019re alright, Stace?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I\u2019m ok,\u201d Stacy replied. \u201cJust stiff \u2018n sore as all get out . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Joe flashed her a knowing grin. \u201cHop Sing\u2019s got an ointment that loosens up those muscles and relieves the pain, quick as anything. Of course, it smells like a pair of Hoss\u2019 dirty socks that have been sitting in a corner for a month of Sundays getting ripe . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt might STILL be a fair \u2018n equitable trade off,\u201d Stacy decided. \u201cIt seems every time I sit still for any length of time . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou?! Sit still??\u201d Joe chortled. \u201cKiddo, you couldn\u2019t sit still if your life depended on it . . . and don\u2019t you dare stick your tongue out at me, either. You really oughtta have more respect for your elders, y\u2019 know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, GRANDPA,\u201d Stacy retorted good-naturedly.<\/p>\n \u201cSmart aleck,\u201d Joe quipped. \u201cCome on . . . let\u2019s us get out to the table before Hoss, Pa, \u2018n Candy eat it all.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cJoe . . . Candy . . . I need to speak with you,\u201d Ben said quietly, after he and the family had finished a hearty, if quiet and subdued, dinner together.<\/p>\n The two young men exchanged puzzled glances.<\/p>\n \u201cIf we could step outside for a few moments?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure, Pa,\u201d Joe said as he and Candy rose. The sharp glance Pa\u2019s invitation to step out side had drawn from Stacy wasn\u2019t lost on him. He and Candy fell in step behind Ben and silently followed him out through the front door.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d Stacy demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . dunno, Li\u2019l Sister . . . . \u201d Hoss had his suspicions, but wisely decided not to voice them. \u201cI think you\u2019re gonna hafta ask Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben, meanwhile, silently led the way over toward the corral, well away from the house.<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . what\u2019s up?\u201d Joe demanded, the minute the three of them reached the corral fence.<\/p>\n \u201cAs you both probably know, I went into town this morning to do some asking around of my own,\u201d Ben began, taking care to keep his voice low.<\/p>\n \u201cConcerning the man I told you about last night?\u201d Candy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cI found out that his name is Zachary Hilliard . . . he comes from New York City . . . and that he and Paris arrived on the same stage.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCoincidence?\u201d Candy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cThat remains to be seen,\u201d Ben said grimly. \u201cWhen I questioned Paris before we sat down to dinner, she told me that her brother, John, knew a man by that name. The two of \u2018em went to Westpoint together, and Zachary Hilliard served under John during the war.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe let out a long, slow whistle.<\/p>\n \u201cZachary Hilliard checked out of the International Hotel early yesterday morning,\u201d Ben continued. \u201cHe told the desk clerk that he had business in Carson City, then asked for directions to the livery stable.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you talk to Tony?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I did,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cHe told me Mister Hilliard rented a buggy and a horse . . . AND that he was indeed headed for Carson City.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIn a buggy, he would\u2019ve been nearly all day yesterday getting there,\u201d Candy said slowly. \u201cEven if he managed to take care of whatever business he had today . . . it pretty much stands to reason he\u2019s gonna stay overnight in Carson, and leave for Virginia City, or . . . wherever he\u2019s going in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was thinking the same thing, Candy,\u201d Ben said. \u201cIf you boys hurry and get yourselves packed, you can reach town in time to make the four o\u2019clock stage for Carson City.\u201d He paused. \u201cI want you boys to find this Mister Hilliard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe will, Pa,\u201d Joe promised, his voice filled with grim determination.<\/p>\n \u201cYou bet,\u201d Candy voiced his wholehearted agreement, punctuating those words with an emphatic nod of his head.<\/p>\n \u201cYou boys get yourselves packed,\u201d Ben said. \u201cI\u2019ll see that your horses are saddled.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing . . . honest. I\u2019m not hungry. Perhaps later . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo more later,\u201d Hop Sing declared. \u201cHow Miss Paris get strength back if she not eat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI SAID later\u2014 \u201d she returned peevishly.<\/p>\n \u201cThis three times now you say later,\u201d Hop Sing admonished her with a dark, angry scowl. \u201cThree times Hop Sing come, three times Miss Paris say later. This fourth time Hop Sing come. Fourth time, Hop Sing say NOW. Miss Paris eat right now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s no arguing with him when he takes THAT tone of voice,\u201d Stacy said, trying hard not to smile.<\/p>\n \u201cMissy Stacy know what she talk about!\u201d Hop Sing declared with an emphatic nod of his head. \u201cWhen Hop Sing say Miss Paris eat right now . . . Miss Paris eat right now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d completely forgotten what an overbearing ogre of a dictator you can be sometimes,\u201d Paris growled, as she dipped her spoon into the generous bowl of chicken soup on the tray, now resting in her lap.<\/p>\n \u201cEat,\u201d Hop Sing returned without missing a beat. \u201cMiss Paris no talk. Miss Paris eat.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris grudgingly swallowed the first spoonful, then a second, followed by a third. \u201cThere! Are you satisfied?\u201d she demanded waspishly.<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing happy when Miss Paris bowl empty . . . soup all gone. NOT before!\u201d<\/p>\n Paris muttered a sting of colorful invectives under her breath as she angrily scooped up a fourth spoonful.<\/p>\n \u201cThat right,\u201d Hop Sing declared with a smug, triumphant smile, and an approving nod of his head.<\/p>\n \u201c ****. . . damn\u2019 f\u2014****bloody . . . overbearing son-uva-sea cook!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEat. No talk.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris toyed with the idea of washing Hop Sing\u2019s face in what remained of her bowl, then, with a melancholy sigh, discarded the notion. She was far too weak physically, and even if she wasn\u2019t, like as not he would only go right back down to the kitchen and return with another full bowl. \u201c . . . and I\u2019d have to start all over again,\u201d<\/em> she groused silently.<\/p>\n Hop Sing stood over Paris, watching closely as she finished up every bit of the soup in her bowl.<\/p>\n \u201cThere, y\u2019 bloody **** blackguard,\u201d Paris growled, as she thrust the empty bowl into Hop Sing\u2019s face. \u201cNOW are y\u2019 happy?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing VERY happy,\u201d Hop Sing said with a complacent smile, as he took the bowl. \u201cNow you rest.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t I visit with Stacy just a wee bit longer?\u201d Paris begged.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Stacy need rest, too,\u201d Hop Sing said.<\/p>\n \u201cHellfire and damnation, Man!\u201d Paris exploded. \u201cI ate every last bit o\u2019 that damned bloody soup o\u2019 yours. I should think THAT would be good enough t\u2019 buy me another twenty minutes t\u2019 visit with Stacy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTEN minute,\u201d Hop Sing said, before turning heel and walking out of the room.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris?\u201d Stacy ventured after Hop Sing had gone.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a good thing you DIDN\u2019T throw that bowl of soup at Hop Sing,\u201d she said quietly.<\/p>\n Paris regarded the girl with mild surprise. \u201c . . . and what makes you think I was going to do any such childish thing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI could tell by the look on your face,\u201d Stacy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cMy mam always said I wore my feelings right out where all the world could see \u2018em,\u201d Paris sighed wearily. \u201cThat\u2019s why I never took up poker.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCouldn\u2019t bluff your way out of a paper bag?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNope.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNeither can I,\u201d Stacy admitted. \u201cThat\u2019s why I only play with my brothers for matchsticks and pennies.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see,\u201d Paris murmured softly.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Child?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you Irish?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs a matter of fact, yes, I am,\u201d Paris replied with a smile. \u201cBorn in County Roscommon to a poor tenant farmer and his wife. How did you guess?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can hear a little of it in your voice sometimes,\u201d Stacy said. \u201cIt almost sounds musical.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris laughed with genuine mirth for the first time in many years. \u201cYou\u2019re the first person I\u2019ve ever heard call it musical,\u201d she said warmly. \u201cIf I didn\u2019t know better, I\u2019d say you have more than enough Irish blarney about yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy responded with a puzzled frown. \u201cWhat\u2019s blarney?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a magical way of words,\u201d Paris explained. \u201cMy father once told me a man, or woman for that matter, well versed in the art of blarney can tell another to go to hell in such a way as to make that other actually look forward to the trip.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy laughed out loud, and Paris, much to her own delight, found herself laughing, too.<\/p>\n \u201cParis isn\u2019t an Irish name, though, is it?\u201d Stacy asked as the laughter died away.<\/p>\n \u201cMy father, when he was a young man, had grand dreams of wealth and travel,\u201d Paris said with a dreamy smile. \u201cOne place he wanted to visit was Paris, France, also known as the city of lights. Mam told me once he chose the name Paris as a magic omen to insure we\u2019d one day visit there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris sadly shook her head. \u201cToo many hardships,\u201d she said. \u201cMy family was very poor, Stacy. Still and all, thanks in large part to Grandma McKenna, we took our lot in life pretty much in stride . . . all of us except for m\u2019 poor mam, God rest her soul . . . . \u201d Paris glanced upward, and quickly crossed herself, \u201cand through it all, though, Da held fast to his grand dreams. But all that changed, when Ireland was hit by terrible famine. I was a wee bit younger than you are right now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs that when you came to this country?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n Paris nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the rest of your father\u2019s family?\u201d Stacy asked. \u201cDid they come here, too?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Paris replied.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy grandfather was already dead,\u201d Paris explained. \u201cHe died peacefully in his sleep before I was born. My grandmother . . . may God rest her saintly soul . . . she was an old woman, and . . . she just couldn\u2019t bear the thought of leaving the only home she ever knew, and . . . and taking her final rest in alien soil, thousands of miles away from the little church yard where my grandfather lies buried. Da\u2019s younger brothers, Uncle Andrew and Uncle John, stayed behind with . . . with Grandma McKenna.\u201d<\/p>\n Her lips curved upward, forming a sad, wistful smile. \u201cShe . . . was a very kind, very loving woman, Stacy. No matter what life brought her, Grandma McKenna NEVER let it make her bitter. She told me once . . . you have no say in what life\u2019s going to throw at you, be it for good or ill, but you DO have a say in how you\u2019re going to face it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou miss her very much, don\u2019t you, Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy gently observed.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I do, fey child that you are.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s fey?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt means touched by the faeries,\u201d Paris explained. \u201cGrandma McKenna called \u2018em the gentlefolk. At any rate, the rare few mortals so blessed instinctively see and know things, without being told.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike me knowing that you miss your Grandma McKenna without you saying so?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cPa\u2019s like that, too, Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy said with a smile. \u201cWhenever we . . . Hoss, Joe, or me . . . are upset about something . . . he just knows. We almost never have to say so. Hoss and Joe are like that, too. So\u2019s Hop Sing. Pa says it comes from living together as a family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . I suppose it can at that,\u201d Paris said slowly, \u201cin a family where there\u2019s a lot of love . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Child?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened to your grandmother?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLast I saw her . . . it was at the American wake she and my uncles held for Mam, Da, my brother, my sisters . . . and me.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy frowned. \u201cAmerican wake?! What\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA funeral.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?!\u201d Stacy cried, her eyes round with shocked horror. \u201cHow could your grandmother and uncles have a funeral for you and your family, when . . . when you were still ALIVE?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll too often, Child, when a family member decides to leave, it\u2019s very much like having him . . . or her . . . die,\u201d Paris explained. \u201cThe distance and the time it takes to travel from Ireland to here . . . or Canada . . . or Australia . . . are very great, and the cost for passage very dear. People knew when a loved one left Ireland, chances were very good they\u2019d never see or hear from that person again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid things get better after you and your family arrived here . . . in America?\u201d Stacy asked, appalled yet fascinated.<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . and yes, I suppose,\u201d Paris answered. \u201cWhen we reached America, my father couldn\u2019t find steady work. An odd job here and there, IF he was lucky. There was plenty of work to be had, mind . . . but just about everywhere Da applied, there were signs in t\u2019 windows saying, \u2018No Irish need apply here.\u2019 Da ended up joining the army. They sent him out to Fort Charlotte, and there he stayed for the duration.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou said before that he was the horse master there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAye, and a fine one,\u201d Paris said. \u201cAfter he left the army, he, Mam, and my younger sisters went out to California in search of gold. A few years later, they returned to Mormon Springs, and bought a bit of farmland. But . . . when last I saw him? He was an angry, bitter man. All of the lovely grand dreams he once had, apparently died over the years . . . one by one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen people loose their dreams, they loose pieces of themselves,\u201d Stacy said quietly. \u201cThey die inside when they stop dreaming altogether. That\u2019s worse than the body dying.\u201d She looked up, her eyes meeting those of the older woman. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Miss Paris,\u201d she said. \u201cFor your pa . . . and for you.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris began to understand why Ben never ceased to marvel at this fey child, so young and at the same time so ancient. \u201cYou remember me telling you just now how I came by my n-name . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Stacy nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . understand Da made good success with the farm near Mormon Springs. He also made good money running the livery stable in town,\u201d Paris continued, her voice trembling. \u201cHe and Mam could well have afforded to visit Paris, and in grand style, too. But, by then, they no longer WANTED to go.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy said, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. \u201cIt seems that somehow, I\u2019m always saying something to make you sad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis is a happy kind of sad, Stacy,\u201d Paris said slowly. \u201cI had long ago forgotten that my father was a dreamer, and why he gave me my name. You helped me remember, and for that I\u2019m grateful, more than you can possibly realize.\u201d Paris impulsively reached over and gave the girl a reassuring hug.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris . . . Miss Stacy, you stay up, talk too much.\u201d It was Hop Sing. He stood in the open doorway with arms folded tight across his chest, glaring at both of them. \u201cOne hour before supper ready. Miss Stacy, you go to your room. You lie down, rest . . . let Miss Paris rest.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAww, Hop Sing . . . I\u2019m not the least bit tired,\u201d Stacy immediately protested. \u201cDo I HAVE to lie down?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Stacy go to room, lie down, rest,\u201d Hop Sing reiterated, \u201cor Hop Sing get rope, hog tie Miss Stacy like calf.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . think he means it, Child,\u201d Paris said wryly.<\/p>\n \u201cI KNOW he means it,\u201d Stacy said, favoring Hop Sing with a withering glare. She rose, and reached for the horse head cane her father had loaned her.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Stacy smart girl,\u201d Hop Sing said with a smug triumphant smile, as he watched her limp across the room toward the hallway. \u201cYou rest, too, Miss Paris. Maybe take nap. Sleep good medicine. Almost as good as eat.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cWell, Boys . . . it looks like the stage has finally arrived,\u201d Hiram Peabody [4], the attendant at the Overland Stage office, said with a complacent smile.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s about time,\u201d Joe declared, as he, Candy, and Hiram watched the stagecoach turn the corner at the bottom of the hill. \u201cIt\u2019s ONLY an hour and fifteen minutes late.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAn hour and eighteen minutes late, Joe,\u201d Hiram sighed. \u201cGive the boys in the stable an hour or so to change the horses, and you fellas\u2019ll be on your way. If you should need me for anything, I\u2019ll be at home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll give Cissy our best?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI sure will,\u201d Hiram promised. \u201cHope everything goes well for you in Carson City.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, Hiram . . . I know it will,\u201d Joe declared with a confident smile.<\/p>\n John McKenna, captain, U. S. Army, now retired, slowly opened his eyes, as he felt the stage beginning to slow. He yawned, stretched, then edged his way across the seat into the deep shadows cast by the waning sunlight and the structure of the conveyance in which he rode. Moments later, the stagecoach came to a complete stop in front of the Virginia City Depot.<\/p>\n His sharp blue eyes immediately spotted two young men, each with a single bag in hand. A troubled frown deepened the lines already etched in the brittle, parchment thin flesh of his brow, as he studied the shorter man, clad in a green denim jacket.<\/p>\n His smile, the way he moved, the left handed holster . . . .<\/p>\n \u201c . . . left-handed holster . . . something about a left-handed hol\u2014 \u201d John murmured softly, as he slid even further under the cloak of lengthening shadows within the coach. \u201cVirginia City . . . Cartwright . . . ah, yes! NOW I remember . . . . Ben\u2019s youngest son, Joseph . . . HE was left handed,\u201d<\/em> he mused silently.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Grant?\u201d The stagecoach driver addressed the sole passenger in an apologetic, contrite tone of voice, as he opened the door.<\/p>\n There was no reply. The man, known to the driver as simply Mister Grant, seemed to be lost in thought.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Grant.\u201d The driver reached out and placed his hand solicitously on the passenger\u2019s forearm, the minute his feet touched terra firma.<\/p>\n John McKenna started. As he turned to face the driver, his initial astonishment had that quickly given way to rage.<\/p>\n The driver shuddered, and stepped back upon catching sight of the murderous fury burning in John McKenna\u2019s bright, sky blue eyes, now round and staring. \u201cS-Sorry, Mister Grant,\u201d he immediately apologized, \u201cf-for startling you just now and . . . and for the delay. I . . . I tried to reach you, Sir, but . . . well, you must\u2019ve been deep in thought. I . . . r-really AM very sorry . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo apologies necessary, Sir. After all . . . it\u2019s certainly not YOUR fault we had to circumnavigate that rockslide,\u201d John said, taking great care to keep his voice well measured, even. His face immediately returned to the stoic facade he normally presented in public, obliterating all trace of the fury, so tangibly present less than a moment before.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Mister Grant. That was most generous.\u201d The driver took due note of the cane clasped tight in the passenger\u2019s hand, the pronounced limp, and the absence of family, friend, or business associate coming to meet him. \u201cIs there . . . someplace I can take you?\u201d he ventured, hesitant and uncertain.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you. I can manage well enough on my own,\u201d John replied, all the while inwardly castigating himself for that near disastrous slip. After having spent the better part of a week now, answering to Mister Smith, it had completely slipped his mind that he had purchased a one way ticket to Virginia City under the name of Sherman Grant, borrowing the names of two generals he had come to admire very much. \u201cHowever . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you would be so kind as to direct me to your telegraph office, I would be very much obliged,\u201d John said.<\/p>\n The driver was only too happy to supply the directions. \u201cIt\u2019s . . . closed now, Sir, but if it\u2019s an emergency\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n For a moment, John debated. Young Cartwright and his companion were heading out on the stage returning to Carson City. That was a given. That they were traveling light suggested an overnight stay. Could it be that Ben Cartwright had guessed\u2014?! No. No, that wasn\u2019t possible. He shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge that errant, and completely absurd, thought.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Sir, but morning will be soon enough to send that wire,\u201d John decided. His associate knew to be cautious . . . after all, he had that scar on his chest now as a constant and everlasting reminder \u201c . . . and sending that wire to warn him might actually end up even more drawing unwanted attention,\u201d<\/em> he mused in silence.<\/p>\n John instructed the driver to send his luggage, consisting of a trunk and two carpet bags, over to the International Hotel, then left the depot, making sure he gave Joe Cartwright and his companion wide birth. It would not do for Ben Cartwright learn that he was in town before he was ready to make that fact known.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cMister Smith?\u201d<\/p>\n John quickly brought his dark musings to an end, that he might give full attention to the present moment. A young man, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, stepped out from the doorway to a building, presently vacant, directly in his path. The skinny beanpole form John remembered had begun to fill out, and the boy\u2019s round, cherubic face had nearly given way to the lean, muscular face of the man he would very soon become. Although the young man\u2019s eyes were concealed by the shadows cast by the wood frame buildings surrounding them, John immediately recognized him as the unit\u2019s former drummer boy by the sandy hair, cropped very short and the determined set of his mouth and jaw line.<\/p>\n \u201cPrivate Jedidiah Matthews, Sir,\u201d the young man continued. \u201cSergeant Collier told me to make certain this was hand delivered to you personally.\u201d Though he did not salute, he respectfully stood with back straight, shoulders back, feet together. He presented John with an envelope addressed to Mister Smith.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Private,\u201d John murmured softly, as he accepted the proffered envelope and deftly placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket. \u201cWas the sergeant able to secure the residence I requested?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Jedidiah replied.<\/p>\n \u201cExcellent. Have my wife and daughters arrived yet?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir. They arrived in Virginia City yesterday evening, and were immediately escorted to the residence secured by Sergeant Collier.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . trust no undue attention was called to their arrival?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir,\u201d Jedidiah replied. \u201cSergeant Collier timed the arrival of their buckboard to coincide with the arrival of several freight wagons, the stagecoach, and people coming into town to partake of last night\u2019s entertainments.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cExcellent,\u201d John murmured softly. \u201cMy commendations to Sergeant Collier . . . and to yourself, Private . . . for a job well done.\u201d<\/p>\n Jedidiah, much to his absolute horror and chagrin, felt the warm, prickly rush of blood to his cheeks, forehead, and neck. \u201cI . . . th-thank you, Sir. I\u2019ll . . . I\u2019ll be sure to t-tell . . . to inform Sergeant Collier.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Private. You\u2019re dismissed.\u201d<\/p>\n The young man acknowledged his captain\u2019s dismissal with a curt nod of his head, before turning heel and heading away in the direction from whence he came.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cBen . . . the last time I saw my brother . . . it was in Missouri . . . Saint Jo, about a year or so after the rest of our family died,\u201d Paris said, her voice an odd mixture of sadness and anger. She had taken supper that evening in her room, a simple, yet tasty fare of chicken stew and dumplings, a large buttermilk biscuit, with a generous slab of butter on the side, and a big mug of hot herbal tea . . . .<\/p>\n \u201c . . . help make Miss Paris stomach feel batter,\u201d Hop Sing had said, \u201cmake her not want to return meal back up. Also help her relax, maybe get good night sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n When Ben came to collect the tray and dishes, she had invited him to sit down for a moment. She felt she owed him some kind of explanation as to why she had no idea where her brother was . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cI was working for the Zimmerman family,\u201d Paris continued. \u201cThough not what you\u2019d call rich, they WERE . . . and still are, I imagine . . . a well-to-do family, very well thought of by most of the people in their community. Mister Zimmerman\u2019s mother-in-law was terminally ill. I had been hired to be her nurse and companion. It was a good job, Ben. Mister Zimmerman was a kind man . . . a fair employer, and Mrs. Putnam . . . she was an absolute jewel. Never once complained, though she certainly had much to complain about . . . always had a smile on her face, a kind word to say . . . .<\/p>\n \u201c . . . ah, but I digress.<\/p>\n \u201cJohn came to see me at the Zimmermans\u2019 home,\u201d Paris continued, \u201csupposedly to tell me that our parents\u2019 house had burned to the ground . . . that they, our sisters,\u201d . . . and poor Rose Miranda, \u201c . . . were all dead. At first, I . . . I thought he was joking.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCruel joke,\u201d Ben said archly.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . which John was, and I imagine still IS, very capable of, believe me,\u201d Paris said grimly. \u201cIn fact, I refused to believe it, until Mister Zimmerman, bless his dear heart, had his secretary send a wire to the sheriff in Mormon Springs, where they were living, and . . . and he shared with me the return wire confirming it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat must have been devastating for you,\u201d Ben said gently.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was, but in all honesty, I can\u2019t really blame John for telling me a year after the fact. He couldn\u2019t have known where to find me,\u201d Paris said. \u201cIt was only by odd happenstance he found out I was in Saint Jo, working for the Zimmermans. The thing I found disturbing was the way he incessantly badgered me about their will, of all things . . . AND for the name of their lawyer.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTheir lawyer?!\u201d Ben echoed, incredulous. \u201cAs I recall, Paris, your father swore up and down there were three kinds of men he couldn\u2019t trust as far as he could throw them . . . doctors, bankers, and lawyers.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s possible he engaged a lawyer to help him draw up a will,\u201d Paris said thoughtfully. \u201cThey DID have their farm and the livery stable in town . . . and I\u2019m sure Mam had personal things that she wanted to pass on to John, Mattie, Elsie, and\u2014 \u201d Her words ended in a frightened gasp.<\/p>\n She had almost said Rose Miranda.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and?\u201d Ben prompted gently.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and . . . to the children John had. Has. I . . . know that he\u2019s taken a wife,\u201d Paris said in a small voice. \u201cStands to reason they\u2019d have children.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and Da, like as not had a respectable sum of money buried in a tin can somewhere,\u201d Paris continued, anxious to move past what would have been a terrible blunder. \u201cAs I told Stacy earlier, he did quite well with the farm and the livery.<\/p>\n \u201cBut . . . where in the world John ever got the idea that I, of all people, had a copy of their will . . . . \u201d Paris wondered aloud, then shrugged. \u201cIt\u2019s insane, Ben. Completely insane! Mam and Da disinherited ME years before. John KNEW that! The day he showed up on the Zimmermans\u2019 doorstep looking for me . . . I hadn\u2019t seen nor heard from my parents or my sisters for six . . . going on seven years. I tried to tell John that, but he wouldn\u2019t hear it. He cursed me . . . threatened me with all manner of violence . . . . \u201d She shuddered. \u201c . . . and called me all kinds of vile names, none of which can be repeated in polite company. Mister Zimmerman\u2019s secretary finally came and told him to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cGrudgingly,\u201d Paris replied. \u201cIt was that, or be arrested and fined for trespassing. But, he didn\u2019t stay away. Three days later, I was alone in the house with Mrs. Putnam. The children were in school, Mister Zimmerman and his secretary had gone to the office, Mrs. Zimmerman was attending a meeting for some charity fund raiser, the cook was out doing the grocery shopping, and Flossie, their housekeeper, had the day off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFirst of all, John had found out that Mister Zimmerman sent that wire to Mormon Springs, asking about our family,\u201d Paris continued. \u201cHe was angry about that. VERY angry. His face . . . . \u201d She shuddered. \u201cHis face didn\u2019t even look human . . . and with him ranting and raving what amounted to utter nonsense . . . I was frightened, Ben . . . not only for myself, but for poor Mrs. Putnam, lying upstairs, completely helpless.<\/p>\n \u201cJohn and I ended up having a royal row to end all rows. In the midst of all the shouting . . . he hit me, Ben. He . . . HIT me . . . over and over and over . . . . \u201d Paris shook her head, as shocked and astonished now as she had been then. \u201cJohn would have killed me, I\u2019m sure of it! Thank God his holster and gun were within my reach. I drew on him and told him he was dead if he didn\u2019t back off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cAfter I put a bullet in his leg to prove I meant business,\u201d Paris said grimly. \u201cJohn left. I don\u2019t know how on one good leg, but he left. When Mister Zimmerman returned home, I told him what had happened, then turned in my resignation, effective immediately. With John as unhinged as he was, my continued presence in their home would have put the Zimmerman family in danger . . . especially Mrs. Putnam.<\/p>\n \u201cIn parting, Mister Zimmerman gave me excellent references. He also gave me severance and a very generous bonus over and above the wages he owed me. I left town the next morning. I didn\u2019t even bother to stay long enough to find out whether John lived or died.\u201d She paused. \u201cI\u2019ve not seen or heard from him since.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shook his head. \u201cI . . . can\u2019t believe it, Paris,\u201d he said incredulously. \u201cI remember John as being a young fella, full of himself as most young fellas are, all bluster and blow, but he never struck me as a man capable of that kind of violence. Did the war change him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen . . . my chance meeting with John in Saint Jo happened roughly a year BEFORE the war broke out,\u201d Paris said.<\/p>\n \u201cReally?!\u201d<\/p>\n Paris nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat in the world could have happened to that young man to have change him so much?\u201d Ben wondered aloud, shocked and bewildered by this piece of information.<\/p>\n \u201cI lay blame for the terrible changes in John at the door of one Parson Meriwether Lewis [5] ,\u201d Paris declared, her lips curling with disgust as she said the parson\u2019s name, \u201cself proclaimed, self ordained man of . . . I don\u2019t know which god, exactly, but you can be damned sure it\u2019s NOT the one you and I are accustomed to worshipping.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou . . . met the man?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . something for which I\u2019m heartily thankful, believe me,\u201d Paris replied soberly, with deep, heartfelt sincerity. \u201cI did see his face once . . . on a wanted poster in the sheriff\u2019s office in a little town up in Montana. I was working for the doctor at the time, a new man, not much more than a boy actually, fresh out of some medical school back east. Nurse . . . midwife . . . physical therapist . . . secretary, bookkeeper, HOUSEkeeper, occasional babysitter . . . you name it, I did it, if it was good honest work. But, once again, I digress.<\/p>\n \u201cOn the surface of things, the parson was such an innocuous looking man, with a dandified kind of a name t\u2019 boot . . . but the look in his eyes . . . . \u201d She shuddered, then hurriedly crossed herself, murmuring a quick prayer for protection. \u201cOh, Ben . . . that man was nothing less than . . . than the very devil incarnate himself!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas this parson wanted for murder?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n Paris\u2019 jaw dropped. \u201cY-Yes . . . . \u201d she stammered, her voice barely audible. \u201cHow . . . how in the world did you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI met Parson Lewis, Paris,\u201d Ben said through clenched teeth, his eyebrows coming together to form a dark, angry scowl. \u201cI also met the man he\u2019s no doubt accused of murdering . . . and both of his wives.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWives?\u201d Paris queried, with eyebrow slightly upraised.<\/p>\n \u201cThey were Mormon,\u201d Ben explained. \u201cPolygamy is part of their religious practice [6] and, I believe, was necessary for their survival. I . . . didn\u2019t get the chance to know Heber Clawson and his wives, Susanna and Elizabeth, very well, but from what little I DID see of them . . . they were good people, Paris, and the three of them were very happy together.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe wanted poster said the parson was wanted for murdering a man and his wife,\u201d Paris said. \u201cWere you there when . . . . ?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe was,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cHoss and I . . . well, by the time we got there, Mister Clawson was already dead, and his wife, Elizabeth, dying as she struggled to give birth to their son.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDear God!\u201d Paris murmured, horrified.<\/p>\n \u201cThey were Mormon,\u201d Ben explained. \u201cPolygamy is part of their religious practice [6] and, I believe, was necessary for their survival. I . . . didn\u2019t get the chance to know Heber Clawson and his wives, Susanna and Elizabeth, very well, but from what little I DID see of them . . . they were good people, Paris, and the three of them were very happy together.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe wanted poster said the parson was wanted for murdering a man and his wife,\u201d Paris said. \u201cWere you there when . . . . ?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe was,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cHoss and I . . . well, by the time we got there, Mister Clawson was already dead, and his wife, Elizabeth, dying as she struggled to give birth to their son.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDear God!\u201d Paris murmured, horrified.<\/p>\n \u201cThat . . . that so called parson . . . . \u201d Ben angrily, contemptuously spat the word. \u201c . . . and another man incited the people of Beehive to hunt down the Clawsons, and my son, Joe, too . . . as if . . . as if they were wild animals. Heber Clawson was shot in the back and his wife, Elizabeth . . . her death came about as the result of being very close to her time to give birth, the chase, and I imagine, fear of what would happen to them all if the parson and the good citizens of Beehive caught up with them.\u201d [7]<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened to the baby and the other wife?\u201d Paris asked, numb with shock and horror.<\/p>\n \u201cI heard they eventually went to the Mormon community in Utah,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . hope Susanna Clawson and the child found peace and safety among their own,\u201d Paris murmured softly.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sure they did,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cMam and Da were . . . well, let\u2019s just say they weren\u2019t happy to say the least about John, in their own minds, turning Protestant,\u201d Paris continued. \u201cAlthough Mam became Catholic when she and Da married, I don\u2019t remember either one of them being much in the way of churchgoers. But they considered themselves staunch Catholics nonetheless, especially Da . . . and given all that they suffered because of it, I know Da would have seen John\u2019s decision to cast in his lot with . . . this \u2018parson\u2019 . . . . \u201d again, she grimaced, \u201cas the absolute worst act of betrayal against family . . . against the church . . . and I daresay against Mother Ireland herself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . Gerald McKenna WOULD have seen John\u2019s decision to follow Parson Lewis in that way,\u201d Ben agreed. \u201cWe can be thankful for one thing, however . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Paris asked.<\/p>\n \u201cParson Meriwether Lewis has been safely locked behind bars at the California State Prison for the better part of the last . . . six, or seven years now,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cI for one hope to heaven the warden had the bloody good sense to throw away the key.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAmen to THAT!\u201d Ben wholeheartedly agreed. \u201cI\u2019ve never heard anyone spew out such venomous hatred and bitterness from a church pulpit in my life. I earnestly hope and pray I never do again. Ever.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thank the Good Lord I\u2019ve never had that dubious pleasure,\u201d Paris declared with a wry roll of her eyes heaven ward. \u201cI\u2019m pretty sure I heard more of that so-called parson\u2019s theology than I ever wanted to hear out of John\u2019s mouth when I saw him in Saint Jo. The names he called me— \u201d She broke off abruptly, and quickly averted her eyes. \u201cI . . . I can\u2019t bring myself to repeat them, Ben.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid those names refer to the time you spent here . . . with me and my two younger boys?\u201d Ben asked, noting the flush of deep crimson on her cheeks.<\/p>\n Paris nodded, unable to speak or look him in the face.<\/p>\n \u201cParis . . . please. Look at me?\u201d<\/p>\n She swallowed nervously, then slowly, reluctantly lifted her head. The way she clutched the edge of her blanket and held it tight to her chest . . . the lower lip, gently clamped between her teeth to hide its trembling, and most especially the way she looked up at him through those enormous big blue eyes . . . she looked for all the world like a naughty little girl, who had just been caught with her hand deep in the cookie jar . . . .<\/p>\n . . . or sitting near the edge of the lake, with fishing pole in hand, on a beautiful spring morning, which also happened to be a school day . . . .<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben once again saw Stacy\u2019s face on that particular day, as she turned and peered up at him with the same great big blue eyes, filled with astonishment and a healthy measure of trepidation, biting her lower lip, as Paris did now . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cHow like . . . yet so very unlike,\u201d<\/em> Ben silently marveled. \u201cBoth so strong, so stubbornly independent, yet so terribly vulnerable.\u201d<\/em> He remembered Paris as a young woman, vivacious, passionate, and full of life . . . just like Stacy. It saddened him deeply to see her as she was now, a frail, sickly woman, aged long before her time, her spirit crushed, her zest for life gone, almost as if it had never been.<\/p>\n \u201cParis,\u201d Ben said gently, speaking aloud, \u201cif you never . . . ever . . . listen to another word I say, I want you to hear this.\u201d He paused briefly, then continued. \u201cI . . . can well imagine what John must have said to you . . . given what the two of us shared. I don\u2019t need to know his exact words . . . and to tell you the honest truth, I don\u2019t really WANT to know . . . because they\u2019re lies. We LOVED each other, Paris. We DID. . . . and though I regret very much the way things ended between us, I feel no shame in the love we shared. Neither should YOU.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Ben . . . Ben, I . . . I\u2019m so sorry, I\u2014 \u201d Paris sobbed.<\/p>\n Without thinking, Ben reached out and gathered her into his arms, as he would his sons and his daughter. Paris hesitated, then slipped her arms around his waist. Her head automatically dropped down onto his shoulder, and she gave release to a small measure of the grief, the anger, and the guilt she had carried around inside of her for so long. As he sat there, gently holding her, he felt the intervening years between the last time he saw Paris McKenna and the present moment, fall away. All of the bewilderment, the anger, and the deep, profound grief she had left in the wake of her abrupt departure had evaporated, like a drop of water on the dry desert sands, at the hottest part of the day.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t, Paris . . . please don\u2019t,\u201d Ben murmured softly. \u201cWhatever your reasons for leaving . . . they don\u2019t matter. Not now. Not anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n Her heart soared upon hearing his words of forgiveness, then, in less than the space of a heartbeat, plunged to the agonizing depths of hopeless despair. It would be so easy to fall in love with him once again, and though she desired that more than anything in the world, she could never allow that to happen. A ghost stood between them, and would always stand between them. Her name was Rose Miranda.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The following morning, at Gerard\u2019s Boarding House in Carson City, Joe woke very early to the heady aromas of bacon frying in the skillet and coffee, freshly made. He sat up and stretched. \u201cCandy?! Hey, Candy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Candy snorted softly, then rolled over, pointedly turning his back to Joe.<\/p>\n \u201cCandy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . uunnngghh?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome on, Candy . . . wake up,\u201d Joe urged. \u201cI think breakfast is almost ready.\u201d<\/p>\n Candy snorted again, louder this time, then drifted off.<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, Buddy . . . YOU asked for it,\u201d Joe muttered, as he climbed out of bed. He grabbed hold of his down pillow, then stepped over to the side of the bed Candy occupied. \u201cAll right, Mister Canaday . . . up \u2018n at \u2018em.\u201d With that, he cheerfully smacked his sleeping traveling companion square in the chest with the pillow in hand.<\/p>\n \u201cUnngh?!\u201d Candy snorted again, as his eyes flew wide open.<\/p>\n \u201cRise and shine, Fella,\u201d Joe greeted Candy with a bright, sunny smile.<\/p>\n \u201cUnnnhh!\u201d Candy groaned, as he reached down and pulled the covers up over his head.<\/p>\n \u201cOh no you don\u2019t!\u201d Joe murmured, as he tore the covers away. \u201cTime to get up, Candy. I smell breakfast cooking downstairs . . . and I want to get it while it\u2019s still hot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan I ask ya a really STUPID question?\u201d Candy groused, sparing no energy to conceal his displeasure.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you make it quick.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho are YOU . . . and what have you done with my friend, Joe Cartwright?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat was TWO stupid questions,\u201d Joe quipped, \u201cand the answer to both of \u2018em is . . . I AM the real, honest-t\u2019-gosh Joe Cartwright. Now up \u2018n at \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSince when did YOU become such an early bird?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI turned over a new leaf this morning,\u201d Joe snapped. \u201cThis Mister Hilliard\u2019s already given us the slip once, be it intentional or mere coincidence . . . and if HE happens to be a firm believer in \u2018early to bed and early to rise,\u2019 well . . . he could be up, washed and dressed, hot footing it to the stage depot, with bags packed even as I speak.\u201d He paused briefly. \u201cCandy, please,\u201d he begged. \u201cWe can\u2019t let him get away again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right,\u201d Candy ruefully sighed as he threw aside his bedclothes . . . .<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cGood morning, Mrs. Gerard,\u201d Joe greeted the owner and manager of Gerard\u2019s Boarding House with a big smile.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Mornin\u2019, Boys,\u201d Mrs. Gerard chirped, looking from Joe to Candy, then back once more to Joe. \u201cG\u2019won in the dining room, and sit down. Breakfast will be ready in a jiffy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Ma\u2019am,\u201d Joe said with a cheerful smile.<\/p>\n Candy grunted, then yawned.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t mind my friend here,\u201d Joe said affably. He placed one arm around Candy\u2019s neck, and patted his cheek as if to revive or sober him up. \u201cHe\u2019s no good in the morning, until he gets at least two cups of coffee in him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cG\u2019won in and sit down, then,\u201d Mrs. Gerard cheerfully shooed them out of the kitchen. \u201cI\u2019ll bring your coffee right in.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ma\u2019am,\u201d Joe said. He took Candy by the elbow and ushered him out of the kitchen.<\/p>\n \u201cSarah!\u201d Mrs. Gerard stepped to the back stairs and called for her housekeeper, Sarah Perkins.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ma\u2019am?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease take the coffee on the stove out to the two gents waiting in the dining room. You\u2019ll find clean mugs on the table.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ma\u2019am,\u201d Sarah murmured, as she entered the kitchen from the backstairs. She grabbed a potholder and removed the coffee pot from the stove. \u201c \u2018Mornin\u2019, Gentlemen,\u201d she greeted Joe and Candy politely, upon entering the dining room. \u201cGood strong coffee fresh and hot.\u201d<\/p>\n Candy yawned again, as Joe picked up their mugs. He placed the first mug Sarah had filled down on the table in front of Candy, and kept the second for himself.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll find the sugar on the table,\u201d Sarah said. \u201cIf you\u2019d like milk, I\u2019ll fetch it from the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Ma\u2019am, but I like mine black,\u201d Joe said.<\/p>\n \u201cMe, too,\u201d Candy murmured softly.<\/p>\n \u201cSo what brings you fellas to Carson City?\u201d Sarah asked.<\/p>\n Joe took a big gulp from the mug in hand. \u201cWe heard that a buddy of ours was passing through,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah? What\u2019s his name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou probably never heard of him,\u201d Candy said, with a big yawn. \u201cHe\u2019s from New York.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Hilliard?\u201d Sarah queried.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s him!\u201d Joe said, laboring valiantly to keep his voice calm and even. \u201cIs he . . . by chance . . . still around?\u201d<\/p>\n Sarah shook her head. \u201cHe left town late yesterday afternoon,\u201d she replied. \u201cOn a horse from Baker\u2019s Livery. You guys army buddies of his?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou might say that,\u201d Candy said evasively.<\/p>\n \u201cDid he say where he was headed?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI remember Mrs. Gerard saying something about him meeting a business associate of his down at the Comstock Hotel yesterday morning,\u201d Sarah replied. \u201cOther than that . . . . \u201d She shrugged. \u201cSorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not YOUR fault,\u201d Candy offered kindly.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s a shame, you guys missin\u2019 him so close,\u201d Sarah said ruefully. \u201cTell you what. I\u2019ll ask Mrs. Gerard. Maybe he told her where he was headed, after meeting his associate at the hotel.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d Candy said. \u201cWe\u2019d appreciate that very much.\u201d<\/p>\n Sarah turned heel and left the dining room.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t believe this, Candy,\u201d Joe groaned sotto voce. \u201cWe actually missed that guy by a few measly hours.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll is not yet lost,\u201d Candy said, lowering his voice. \u201cWe may still catch up to him, if he happened to tell Mrs. Gerard where he was headed.\u201d<\/p>\n Mrs. Gerard herself entered the dining room a few moments later, carrying a bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs and a plate of bacon. \u201cHelp yourself, Gents,\u201d she said, placing the food on the table. \u201cSarah\u2019ll be right in with fried potatoes and biscuits.\u201d She paused. \u201cI understand the two of you are army buddies of Mister Hilliard\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy friend and I heard he was here,\u201d Candy said, favoring Mrs. Gerard with an affable grin, \u201cand we thought it might be nice to stop in and say hello.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid you boys missed him,\u201d Mrs. Gerard said sympathetically.<\/p>\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t happen to mention where he might be headed, did he?\u201d Candy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, Boys,\u201d Mrs. Gerard shook her head.<\/p>\n \u201cOh well, it WAS a spur of the moment kind of thing,\u201d Candy shrugged, while Joe sat next to him seething with angry frustration. \u201cMaybe next time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou boys eat up now,\u201d Mrs. Gerard admonished them.<\/p>\n \u201cI could just scream,\u201d Joe muttered through clenched teeth, after Mrs. Gerard had returned to the kitchen, and Sarah had come and gone, leaving the promised fried potatoes and biscuits behind on the table.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t scream, eat!\u201d Candy said in a low voice. \u201cAfter breakfast, we\u2019ll mosey on down to the Comstock Hotel and ask around. At the very least, we should turn up the name of the business associate he came to meet . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201c . . . Candy and I stopped at the Comstock Hotel, on our way to the stage depot,\u201d Joe recounted in a melancholy tone for his father that night. He sat, perched on the edge of his father\u2019s desk, his head bowed, shoulders slumped, and arms folded tight across his chest. Ben sat behind the desk, with folded hands resting atop its polished surface, listening intently to his youngest son\u2019s report. The grandfather clock, over beside the front door, had chimed the quarter hour past midnight a few moments before.<\/p>\n \u201cThe hotel clerk remembered Zachary Hilliard,\u201d Joe continued. \u201cIt seems he met with a guest at the hotel . . . a Mister Smith.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo first name?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe wearily shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cYou checked the register?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf COURSE I checked the register, Pa,\u201d Joe snapped, giving vent to the volatile emotions churning within, a potent mixture of worry for his young sister, angry frustration over having missed his intended quarry, and plain and simple fatigue. \u201cThe man signed in as Mister Smith. Period. No first name, no middle name, no initials. Just . . . plain . . . Mister Smith.\u201d<\/p>\n A strained silence fell between father and son.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry,\u201d Ben murmured contritely. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to imply\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, Pa,\u201d Joe replied, equally contrite. \u201cWe\u2019re BOTH worried about her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWere you able to find out where Mister Hilliard was headed, after concluding his business with Mister Smith?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n Joe sighed, and dolefully shook his head. \u201cThe housekeeper at the boarding house where he stayed told Candy and me he went to Baker\u2019s Livery. We stopped by there to see what we could find out, but the man in charge told us he had three customers day before yesterday: the deputy sheriff and the school teacher rented a horse and buggy for an afternoon drive and a scruffy looking old geezer . . . HIS words, Pa, not mine . . . who paid cash for a horse the owner of the livery had decided to put out to pasture. That was it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCould be this Mister Hilliard changed his mind and went to another livery,\u201d Ben quietly observed with a frown. \u201cHow about the man he went to see?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Smith?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cThe desk clerk at the Comstock Hotel remembered Mister Smith well enough to give us a description of him,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cSaid he was kind of on the tall side, skinny as a rail, with dark hair and blue eyes. He also walked with a very pronounced limp and he was a real snappy dresser.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben dutifully wrote down the description Joe gave of Zachary Hilliard\u2019s business partner on the back of an empty envelope.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m . . . afraid . . . that\u2019s ALL we got, Pa,\u201d Joe concluded with a doleful sigh. \u201cThe desk clerk told Candy and me that Mister Smith checked out yesterday afternoon . . . and from there, he, too, disappears into thin air.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you check with the stage lines?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n Joe nodded glumly. \u201cThere were about half a dozen passengers on the stage that left Carson City at ten o\u2019clock yesterday morning, and a fella named Grant on the two o\u2019clock stage bound for Virginia City,\u201d he replied. \u201cBut there was no one by the name of Smith or Hilliard listed.\u201d<\/p>\n An uneasy silence settled over Ben and his youngest son.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, what do we do now?\u201d Joe asked at length.<\/p>\n \u201cFirst thing tomorrow morning, I\u2019m going to ride into town and pay a visit to the livery stable where Mister Hilliard rented that rig for his trip to Carson City,\u201d Ben said slowly. \u201cIf he left Carson City yesterday morning, after his meeting with Mister Smith . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . then . . . he ought to have returned that horse and buggy to Grainger\u2019s Livery some time today,\u201d Joe finished with a feral grin.<\/p>\n \u201cIf not today, then almost certainly tomorrow morning, since he\u2019s no doubt paying by the day,\u201d Ben added. \u201cIt might be a good idea to ask Roy if he\u2019ll send a wire to the sheriff over in Carson City. Perhaps HE can ask around . . . starting with the livery stables. If Zachary Hilliard didn\u2019t go to Bakers\u2019 Livery, he had to have gone to another. Simple as that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . AND if Mister Smith didn\u2019t take the stage, perhaps he ALSO went to one of the other liveries.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUnless he remained in Carson City . . . staying somewhere other than the Comstock Hotel,\u201d Ben said slowly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d Joe queried with a bewildered frown. \u201cWhat would be the point?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt would be an excellent way for a man to cover his tracks,\u201d Ben said grimly<\/p>\n Joe shuddered as an ice-cold shiver ran down the entire length of his spine. \u201cThe only reason a man would have for covering his tracks is . . . he\u2019s expecting someone to come after him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMeaning . . . whoever this Zachary Hilliard is . . . chances are real good that his intentions aren\u2019t in our best interests?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cIt doesn\u2019t make any sense, Pa,\u201d Joe said.<\/p>\n \u201cThat someone might be out to harm us?\u201d Ben queried. \u201cI\u2019ve made my share of enemies as well as friends over the years, Son . . . we ALL have. Surely you haven\u2019t forgotten that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course not,\u201d Joe hotly defended himself, \u201cbut why The Kid? She was an orphan, for heaven\u2019s sake, with no family . . . or even memories of family. What possible reason could anyone have for harming HER?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnyone who knows us well enough knows that by harming one of us, he\u2019s harmed all of us,\u201d Ben explained. \u201cThink about it, Son. How would YOU feel, if someone hurt your sister . . . your brothers . . . Hop Sing . . . or me, for that matter, in revenge for something you did or something he thought you did?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPoint taken,\u201d Joe said soberly. \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t I go into town tomorrow?\u201d Joe suggested. \u201cThat way, I could give Sheriff Coffee a first hand account on what Candy and I found out in Carson City . . . or perhaps more to the point, what we DIDN\u2019T find out in Carson City.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben winced against the self-reproach he heard in his youngest son\u2019s voice. \u201cYou did your best, Joe. You and Candy both! I KNOW you did,\u201d he said quietly. He reached over and gave Joe\u2019s shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen you go into town tomorrow, ask Roy if he\u2019s gotten any replies back from the wires he sent to the police department in New York City, and the Pinkerton Agency.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will,\u201d Joe promised. He eased himself off of his perch on the edge of the desk, and stretched. \u201cI\u2019m gonna turn in, Pa. I\u2019ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and I\u2019m thinking I\u2019d like to get an early start.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood idea, Son,\u201d Ben agreed. \u201cI\u2019m coming up right behind you. Oh . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Joe paused mid-stride and turned. \u201cYeah, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know whether or not Eddie Jones is back?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBack?\u201d Joe echoed, mildly surprised. \u201cBack from where?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe asked for the day off today,\u201d Ben explained, as he and Joe started up the stairs.<\/p>\n \u201cEddie?!\u201d<\/p>\n Joe grinned. \u201cWell whaddya know?\u201d he murmured softly, as he and his father stepped onto the top landing. \u201cI\u2019m glad t\u2019 hear the man\u2019s not completely alone in the world . . . but I can\u2019t tell ya whether or not he\u2019s back yet.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben was surprised to find Stacy, still dressed, seated in the easy chair in his bedroom, with her injured foot propped up on a small footstool, borrowed from the room that had once belonged to Adam.<\/p>\n \u201cStacy Cartwright . . . what are you doing up? You should have been in bed hours ago,\u201d he admonished her gently, as he seated himself on the edge of his bed.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t sleep,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n \u201cIs it your ankle?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Stacy shook her head. \u201cPa . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s going on? I\u2019ve been wanting to ask you ever since you came home from town yesterday afternoon, but never got the chance. I figured tonight . . . if I waited long enough . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s late, Young Woman,\u201d Ben said quietly, \u201cand YOU need your rest. We\u2019ll talk in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa, I . . . I KNOW I\u2019m not blood kin to you, Hoss, and Joe, but I AM still part of this family . . . right?\u201d<\/p>\n Her question took him completely by surprise. \u201cOf course you are,\u201d Ben declared, with an emphatic nod of his head.<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . you\u2019re always telling Hoss and Joe that whatever the problem is . . . we\u2019ll face it together . . . as a family,\u201d Stacy continued, her mouth, her chin set with fierce determination. \u201cWell . . . how can I help you guys face whatever\u2019s going on if I don\u2019t even KNOW what\u2019s going on?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStacy, I promise you . . . everything\u2019s going to be all right,\u201d Ben said earnestly. \u201cIn fact, I fully expect to have matters cleared up within the next few days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa, I\u2019m fifteen years old,\u201d she said indignantly. \u201cNext birthday . . . or the day we celebrate as my birthday . . . I\u2019ll be SIXteen. I\u2019m NOT a little kid anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . you\u2019re not,\u201d Ben admitted reluctantly.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and if you\u2019re worried about scaring me, I have to tell ya . . . knowing that something\u2019s going on, but NOT knowing WHAT, exactly . . . scares me a whole lot more.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou . . . have me there,\u201d Ben reluctantly allowed, knowing all too well how easily the imagination could concoct a story a hundred times worse than the plain and simple truth. He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. \u201cLast night, Candy told me there was a man in town . . . a stranger, who spent three days asking folks about our family . . . YOU in particular,\u201d he began.<\/p>\n Stacy frowned. \u201cMe?!\u201d she queried, completely taken aback.<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy in the world would anyone be asking questions about me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know right now, but one way or another I intend to find out,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cIs THAT why you went into town yesterday morning?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded. \u201cI found out the man\u2019s name is Zachary Hilliard,\u201d he continued, \u201cand that he\u2019s from New York City.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cZachary Hilliard,\u201d Stacy said the name slowly. She, then, looked up at her father and shook her head. \u201cNever heard of him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPositive.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe could be family, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n She frowned. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI mean YOUR family.\u201d<\/p>\n Her frown deepened. \u201cAre you saying he could be one of the people I was with before Silver Moon?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, let\u2019s get one thing straight,\u201d she said earnestly, her intense blue eyes meeting his dark brown ones. \u201cYou, Hoss, Joe, Hop Sing, and Adam . . . even though I haven\u2019t met him yet . . . YOU guys are my family. Before you, Silver Moon, and the tribe of her father, Chief Soaring Eagle. No one else!\u201d Her tone of voice was firm, resolute.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re not even curious?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Stacy said emphatically. \u201cThey never came for me, Pa . . . after all the time the commander out at Fort Charlotte spent trying to find them . . . they NEVER came. If . . . if it hadn\u2019t been for YOU guys, I would\u2019ve been sent out to Ohio with that . . . that horrible monster from hell.\u201d Her voice was shaking, and her eyes gleaming with the watery brightness of unshed tears.<\/p>\n Ben silently patted the space on the bed next to him, then held out his arms. Without hesitation, Stacy rose. She paused just long enough to steady herself before crossing the short distance between the easy chair and bed, where she collapsed heavily down on the edge of the bed next to her father. Ben gathered his daughter in his arms and held her close.<\/p>\n Stacy buried her head against his shoulder, and clung tenaciously, as if for dear life. \u201cI . . . I won\u2019t g-go with them, Pa,\u201d she sobbed, angry, fearful, and grief stricken. \u201cI . . . I WON\u2019T. I d-don\u2019t care what ANYONE says\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s all right, Stacy . . . you don\u2019t have to,\u201d Ben said, his own voice breaking.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t?\u201d she queried, lifting her head, so that she might look him in the face.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben said gently. \u201cMister Milburn told me that because it\u2019s been going on five years now . . . AND because you\u2019re fifteen going on sixteen years old, the choice would be YOURS.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood!\u201d Stacy exhaled an audible sigh of relief, as her head came to rest heavily upon her father\u2019s shoulder once again. \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI meant what I said about you guys being my family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and you\u2019d better not ever forget it, either, Young Woman,\u201d Ben declared, as he hugged her closer. \u201cIf anyone ever comes and tries to take you away from us . . . they\u2019ll have to go through me, your brothers, AND Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPromise?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCross my heart.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m . . . I\u2019m holding you to that, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019d better.\u201d On impulse, Ben placed a kiss on the top of her head.<\/p>\n \u201cI love you, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben smiled. \u201cI love you, too, Stacy. You . . . feeling a little bit better about things?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA LOT better, now that I know that if this Zachary Hilliard IS one of the people I was with before . . . he can\u2019t take me away from you . . . not now . . . not ever,\u201d Stacy said. \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis Zachary Hilliard couldn\u2019t have had anything to do with my saddle . . . could he?\u201d she asked with a dark, angry scowl.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Ben said gravely. \u201cThat Zachary Hilliard WAS in Virginia City asking questions at the same time someone cut the cinch strap of your saddle could very well be a coincidence.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut . . . you don\u2019t believe it is, do you.\u201d It was a statement of fact, not a question.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t dismiss the possibility of a connection between your saddle and Zachary Hilliard until I know more about him,\u201d Ben said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cHow long will that be?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs I said earlier, I hope to have matters cleared up within the next few days,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cUntil then . . . I need you to do me a big favor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben took a deep breath and steeled himself for an argument. \u201cI hope you can forgive your worried pa for being overly protective, but I don\u2019t want you going out by yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy opened her mouth to protest, but the anxious look on his face stopped her cold. \u201cO-Ok, Pa,\u201d she acquiesced, \u201cof course I won\u2019t be able to ride Blaze Face for the next few days anyway . . . \u2018cause of my ankle.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d Ben agreed.<\/p>\n \u201cI guess I can live with that,\u201d Stacy decided.<\/p>\n \u201cGood. You ready for sleep now?\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy\u2019s reply was a nod of her head, followed by a big yawn. She placed both hands down on the bed and pushed herself from sitting to standing, wincing against the painful protest of stiff and sore muscles.<\/p>\n Ben leaned over and retrieved the cane, he had given her, from its place on the floor along side the easy chair. \u201cYou want me to see you down the hall?\u201d he asked, as he handed her the cane.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks for offering, but I can manage,\u201d she said, yawning again. \u201cGood night, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood night, Stacy. See you in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Mornin\u2019, Sheriff,\u201d Joe greeted Roy Coffee with a big smile, as he sauntered into the lawman\u2019s office the following morning.<\/p>\n Roy looked up from the stack of wanted posters spread out across his desk, and grinned. \u201c \u2018Mornin\u2019 yourself, Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n As he stepped in front of the sheriff\u2019s desk, his eyes were drawn to the grim faces pictured on the wanted posters. \u201cUmmm um! Never saw so much ugly gathered together in one place,\u201d he murmured, shaking his head.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re a hard nosed lot, that\u2019s for dang sure,\u201d Roy agreed. \u201cSay! THIS one ain\u2019t so ugly . . . . \u201d He picked up one of the posters in the middle and held it out to Joe.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . I don\u2019t believe this,\u201d Joe said with a grin. \u201cThis guy\u2019s the spittin\u2019 image of Eddie Jones.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe that drifter your pa hired \u2018bout a month or so back?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy took the poster back from Joe. \u201cTHIS fella\u2019s name\u2019s George Edwards . . . \u2018n it seems he\u2019s wanted in several other states . . . California, Texas, Arizona . . . in addition t\u2019 Nevada.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat fella sure gets around. What\u2019d he do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeems he\u2019s some kinda killer for hire,\u201d Roy said grimly, \u201che\u2019s wanted for three murders in Texas, one in Arizona, two out in California, \u2018n one more here. Got a list o\u2019 aliases here \u2018bout a mile long.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEddie Jones isn\u2019t on there . . . is he?\u201d<\/p>\n Roy silently scanned the list. \u201cNope. There\u2019s an Eddie George on here \u2018bout mid-way down t\u2019 list, but no Eddie Jones. Besides all that, didn\u2019t your pa send wires to all the places your man said he worked for?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe nodded. \u201c . . . and Eddie\u2019s claims all checked out,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cSo . . . . \u201d Roy said, as he gathered the wanted posters together. \u201cWhat can I do for ya, Joe? I . . . don\u2019t think ya got yourself outta bed so early just to stop by \u2018n look at m\u2019 rouges\u2019 gallery.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa asked me to stop by and find out whether or not you\u2019ve gotten back any replies to the wires you sent,\u201d Joe said, his smile fading.<\/p>\n \u201cYour timin\u2019 couldn\u2019t be better, Joe,\u201d Roy said, as he opened the top right hand drawer of his desk. He pulled two envelopes out of the drawer, both bearing his name, neatly printed with a pencil. \u201cGeorge Ellis brought \u2018em over from the telegraph office a couple o\u2019 minutes ago.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHot diggity!\u201d Joe exclaimed, as he snatched the envelopes right out of the sheriff\u2019s hand. He quickly opened the envelope on top and pulled out the single piece of paper.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . wouldn\u2019t get your hopes up, Joe,\u201d Roy cautioned.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Sheriff Coffee,\u2019 \u201d Joe read the first message aloud. \u201c \u2018Regret to inform you the Pinkerton Agency employs no agent named Zachary Hilliard.\u2019 It\u2019s signed T. Herbert.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI figured they were gonna tell me that,\u201d Roy said. \u201cI told your pa the Pinkerton Agency ain\u2019t in the habit o\u2019 givin\u2019 out the names o\u2019 their investigators.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing ventured, nothing gained, I suppose,\u201d Joe sighed dolefully.<\/p>\n \u201cI gotta friend . . . an old army buddy o\u2019 mine,\u201d Roy said. \u201cHe\u2019s a retired lawman, AND he worked a few years as a Pinkerton man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou think maybe he\u2019d be willing to do some digging?\u201d Joe asked hopefully.<\/p>\n \u201cLike y\u2019 just got through sayin\u2019 yourself . . . nothin\u2019 ventured, nothin\u2019 gained,\u201d Roy replied. \u201cOl\u2019 Judd owes me a few favors, \u2018n I kinda thought now\u2019d be as good a time as any t\u2019 call in on a couple. I\u2019ll send that wire t\u2019 Judd first thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Sheriff Coffee,\u201d Joe said gratefully. \u201cI appreciate that very much . . . and I know Pa, Stacy, and Hoss will, too.\u201d He stuffed the reply from the Pinkerton Agency back into its envelope, and turned his attention to the reply from New York.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir?\u201d Joe queried, as he lifted the flap and removed the second message.<\/p>\n \u201cThe reply from the New York City Police Department\u2019s pretty much the same as the Pinkerton Agency,\u201d Roy said with much reluctance.<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s face fell. \u201cYou mean . . . they don\u2019t know anything about Zachary Hilliard?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe ain\u2019t gotta criminal record, leastwise not in New York,\u201d Roy explained. \u201cThe police chief went on t\u2019 say the Hilliard family\u2019s been a pillar o\u2019 the community for many, many years now . . . \u2018n that a lotta folks in New York have high regard for \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDamn,\u201d Joe angrily muttered between clenched teeth. \u201cThat puts us right back to square one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen told me he was gonna send you \u2018n Candy over t\u2019 Carson City t\u2019 nose around,\u201d Roy said. He invited Joe to sit down with a broad, sweeping gesture of his arm toward the two hard backed chairs, next to the front of his desk. \u201cYou fellas turn up anything?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCandy and I found out Zachary Hilliard WAS there,\u201d Joe began, as he straddled one of the chairs backwards. \u201cHe arrived in Carson City . . . . \u201d he fell silent for a moment to do some mental figuring, \u201c . . . I guess its been three days ago now. He stayed overnight at Mrs. Gerard\u2019s boarding house and the following morning, met with a business associate of his at the Comstock Hotel. After that, he just up and disappears right into thin air.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY\u2019 checked t\u2019 livery stables? . . . the stagecoach depot?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah . . . we did all that,\u201d Joe said, exasperated. \u201cMrs. Gerard\u2019s housekeeper told Candy and me that Zachary Hilliard stabled his rig at Baker\u2019s Livery. That\u2019s the one closest to her boarding house. When we went there, we were told they had no record of a customer by the name of Zachary Hilliard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the business associate he met with at the Comstock Hotel?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe registered at the Comstock as Mister Smith,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cThe desk clerk said he checked out in the afternoon, day before yesterday. From there, he, too, disappears into thin air.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeems these two fellas are goin\u2019 t\u2019 whole a lotta trouble t\u2019 cover their tracks,\u201d Roy murmured softly<\/p>\n \u201cPa said the same thing last night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe know for fact that Zachary Hilliard rented a rig from Tony Grainger\u2019s livery. That rig\u2019s gotta be returned sometime. You check with him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cJust before I came here. Tony said that Mister Hilliard\u2019s not yet returned the rig. I . . . asked him to let you know the minute he does. I hope that was alright . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Roy nodded. \u201cMight be better if I follow up with Zachary Hilliard instead o\u2019 you or your pa,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cI was wondering if you might see your way clear to sending a wire to the sheriff over in Carson City,\u201d Joe said. \u201cPa was thinking that Zachary Hilliard might have used another livery instead of Baker\u2019s. He also thought the two of \u2018em . . . Zachary Hilliard AND Mister Smith . . . may have actually stayed on in Carson City.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy nodded. \u201cIt\u2019s possible. I\u2019ll send Amos a wire, \u2018n ask him t\u2019 nose around a li\u2019l,\u201d he promised. Amos Dudley was the sheriff over in Carson City, and numbered among Roy Coffee\u2019s oldest and closest friends.<\/p>\n Joe rose to his feet. \u201cThanks again,\u201d he said, as the sheriff also rose.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll letcha know what Judd \u2018n Amos hafta say, the minute I hear,\u201d Roy promised as they walked across the room toward the door.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you been able to find out anything more about Stacy\u2019s saddle cinch being cut?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI got a list with the names o\u2019 the men workin\u2019 in the corral that day,\u201d Roy replied, \u201cabout a dozen in all. Your pa got \u2018em from Hoss. I\u2019ve questioned all but three of \u2018em\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and?\u201d Joe pressed.<\/p>\n \u201cThey were just as surprised as you folks no doubt were, when y\u2019 found out that cinch\u2019d been cut deliberate,\u201d Roy said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhich three haven\u2019t you had a chance to question?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTom Parsons . . . Mark O\u2019Connor . . . \u2018n Eddie Jones,\u201d Roy rattled the names right off the top of his head. \u201cIf it\u2019s alright with your pa, I\u2019d like t\u2019 come out this afternoon \u2018n talk to \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEddie left this morning with Dan Eberhardt and Arch Campbell to repair the fence around the northwestern side of our winter pasture,\u201d Joe said slowly. \u201cAll the wind and rain we had last month knocked that whole section down.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow soon y\u2019 expect Eddie back?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThree days . . . four, maybe five at the very outside,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cI know Pa won\u2019t mind one bit if you come out today to question the other two men.\u201d He smiled. \u201cIn fact . . . you COULD come out LATE this afternoon, and stay for supper.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Joe. I just might take y\u2019 up on that . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201c . . . Hop Sing, that was without a doubt the best meal I\u2019ve had in a long time,\u201d Roy Coffee declared with a contented smile, as he gently patted his full stomach. \u201cGlad t\u2019 see you ain\u2019t lost your touch.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, thank you very much,\u201d Hop Sing said, grinning from ear to ear. \u201cNow go in living room, sit down. Hop Sing clear table, then bring coffee.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnything to keep you in a good mood,\u201d Ben said, rising from his place at the head of the table.<\/p>\n \u201cShoo,\u201d Hop Sing quipped, as he set himself to the task of clearing the table.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Hoss . . . how about a game of checkers?\u201d Stacy asked, as she fell in step along side the biggest of her three brothers.<\/p>\n \u201cHmpf!\u201d Joe snorted in mock indignation. \u201cYou only wanna play him because you can\u2019t beat me with a stick.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFat lot YOU know, Grandpa,\u201d Stacy retorted, without missing a beat. \u201cThe real reason I wanna play with Hoss is . . . HE doesn\u2019t cheat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do NOT cheat,\u201d Joe declared, favoring his young sister with the most ferocious scowl he could possibly summon. The mischief sparking in his hazel eyes wasn\u2019t lost on Hoss or Stacy.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, WE know, Li\u2019l Brother,\u201d Hoss chortled. \u201cYou don\u2019t cheat . . . y\u2019 just get real creative with the rules.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and don\u2019t either one of you ever forget it,\u201d Joe returned.<\/p>\n Roy turned and graciously offered his arm to the Cartwrights\u2019 houseguest. \u201cMiss McKenna, it\u2019s good seein\u2019 you again,\u201d he said in a tone of voice that was polite, yet cool.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Sheriff,\u201d Paris replied, accepting the proffered arm. \u201cIt\u2019s good seeing you, too. I trust you\u2019ve been keeping yourself well?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t complain.\u201d It was on the tip of Roy\u2019s tongue to inquire after Paris\u2019 well being. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again, upon remembering her delicate state of health.<\/p>\n \u201cApart from that terrible storm the first night I came . . . the weather\u2019s been quite lovely,\u201d Paris observed, after an interminably long moment of strained silence.<\/p>\n \u201cYes \u2019m,\u201d Roy grunted, as he led her over to the blue chair next to the fireplace.<\/p>\n Joe leaned over and fished the footstool out from under the chair. \u201cHere y\u2019 are, Miss Paris,\u201d he said quietly, as she half collapsed into the chair. \u201cSomething to prop up your feet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d she replied, lifting up one slippered foot, then the other.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I get you a cushion?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris shook her head. \u201cI\u2019m fine, Joe . . . thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n Satisfied that he had left Paris in capable hands, Roy glanced up, making eye contact with the Cartwright clan patriarch. Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe . . . Miss McKenna . . . I hope you\u2019ll both excuse me,\u201d Roy said, looking from one to the other, inwardly relieved to be free of Paris\u2019 company, if only for a little while. He remembered how devastated Ben was . . . how devastated Hoss and Joe were, too, after she had up and left so suddenly, without a word, without so much as leaving a note to say good-bye. He had never forgiven her for that, nor did he expect he ever would. However, the intense anger he still felt toward her alarmed and surprised him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re excused, Sheriff Coffee,\u201d Joe said, noting that his father had turned and started toward the front door. He silently hoped and prayed that the sheriff might have some news to impart.<\/p>\n Roy Coffee silently followed Ben out onto the front porch, closing the door behind him. \u201cHow\u2019s Stacy doin\u2019 with that sprained ankle?\u201d he asked, as the two of them walked across the yard toward the corral fence next to the barn.<\/p>\n \u201cMuch better,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cThe swelling\u2019s gone down quite a bit, though she\u2019s still walking with a slight limp. Roy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe said you wanted to talk with Tom Parsons and Mark O\u2019Connor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . \u2018n Eddie Jones, too, when HE gets back,\u201d Roy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you\u2014?!\u201d<\/p>\n Roy nodded. \u201cI talked to Tom \u2018n Mark. Both of \u2018em denied havin\u2019 anything t\u2019 do with cuttin\u2019 the cinch strap on Stacy\u2019s saddle,\u201d he reported. \u201cThey claimed they was over in t\u2019 other corral, workin\u2019 with Hank Carlson \u2018n Dan Eberhardt. Since Hoss backed \u2018em up, I\u2019m inclined t\u2019 believe \u2018em . . . leastwise for now.\u201d<\/p>\n A strained silence fell over both of them, as they stepped up to the corral fence.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry I can\u2019t give ya anything more definite, Ben,\u201d Roy murmured contritely.<\/p>\n \u201cYou needn\u2019t apologize,\u201d Ben said quietly. \u201cI know you\u2019re doing your best. It\u2019s just that I was hoping to . . . well, if not have matters completely resolved, then to at least know more about this Zachary Hilliard and . . . whoever it was that cut the cinch on Stacy\u2019s saddle.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe told me he asked Tony Grainger t\u2019 let me know when this Hilliard fella returns the rig he borrowed a few days ago,\u201d Roy said. \u201cI\u2019ve asked the owners o\u2019 the other liveries in town t\u2019 do the same thing, and Clem\u2019s been checkin\u2019 with Hiram Peabody every day, t\u2019 see if anyone, answerin\u2019 t\u2019 the description Mrs. Braun gave o\u2019 Zachary Hilliard, has come in on the stage.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cI also sent that wire t\u2019 Amos over in Carson City, too, Ben,\u201d Roy continued. \u201cHe wired back \u2018n told me he\u2019d nose around . . . ask questions. I\u2019m hopin\u2019 to hear somethin\u2019 back from him in t\u2019 next couple o\u2019 days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and Joe told me that you\u2019d wired another friend of yours and asked HIM to see if he could squeeze any information out of the Pinkerton Agency.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYep.\u201d Roy nodded his head.<\/p>\n \u201cSounds like you\u2019ve got everything pretty much covered,\u201d Ben sighed. \u201cI just hope and pray something useful turns up in the next couple of days. I . . . told Stacy that I didn\u2019t want her going out by herself until I knew more.”<\/p>\n \u201cI was just gettin\u2019 ready t\u2019 suggest y\u2019 do that . . . for her own protection,\u201d Roy said. \u201cI know that li\u2019l gal\u2019s well able t\u2019 look after herself, most o\u2019 the time. You, Hoss, \u2018n Joe\u2019ve all seen t\u2019 that. While she can like as not give a good account o\u2019 herself against any critter out there, who tried t\u2019 make a meal of her . . . those TWO legged critters . . . when THEY\u2019RE hell-bent on doin\u2019 a body harm, they can be a lot more wily than the FOUR legged ones, if y\u2019 get my meanin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do indeed,\u201d Ben replied, \u201cand so far Stacy\u2019s been content to abide by my restrictions the few days her ankle\u2019s kept her out of action. However, now that she\u2019s feeling and doing much better\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s gonna be chompin\u2019 at the bit t\u2019 be out \u2018n about.\u201d<\/p>\n Again, Ben nodded. \u201cEspecially with the school being closed due to the teacher being ill,\u201d he added. \u201cAny word yet as to when classes will resume?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Fraid not, Ben . . . but don\u2019t you worry none. With all the irons we still got in the fire, I\u2019m sure somethin\u2019 will turn up in the next couple o\u2019 days,\u201d Roy said with confidence. \u201cIn the meantime, you tell that li\u2019l gal o\u2019 yours t\u2019 sit tight, \u2018n be patient.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will, Roy,\u201d Ben murmured softly, knowing all too horribly well, that such was far easier said than done.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The woman was tall and slender, clad in darkness, her face veiled with thick impenetrable shadow. She looked away, terrified by the thought of seeing the woman\u2019s face, or worst of all, her eyes. The woman called to her. She heard the urgency and fear in the woman\u2019s voice. For the first time, she realized that the woman called her by another name. Though the name was not her name, or a name known to her, it\u2019s sound, the flow of consonants and vowels into their own unique patterns of syllables, terrified her.<\/em><\/p>\n Stacy woke up suddenly, the remnants of a scream dying in her throat before it could issue forth. For a time, she just laid there, unmoving, with no idea as to where she was or how she had come to be there. Somewhere, off in the far distance, she heard a door close, then footsteps . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cMy room!\u201d she gasped, unaware that she spoke aloud. \u201cDream . . . . \u201d She pulled her quilt up around her, shivering violently in spite of the warmth of late spring that had begun, even at this early hour, to fill her bedroom. She closed her eyes, and tried to focus on her breathing. In, out, deep, even breaths. Even with her eyelids squeezed shut, she felt the walls of the room closing in on her.<\/p>\n Stacy opened her eyes, and glanced at the clock, hanging on the wall next to her door. The time was a few minutes before six, plenty of time, she realized to get in a short ride on Blaze Face before breakfast. She threw aside the covers with a strength born of a desperate need to escape the claustrophobic confines of her bedroom and the house. She quickly dressed and made her way downstairs.<\/p>\n \u201cGood morning,\u201d Ben greeted her from behind his desk in the area set aside as his study, clad in nightshirt, robe, and slippers. \u201cWhere are you off to in such a hurry?\u201d<\/p>\n He had woken up hours ago, while it was yet dark. After spending the better part of an hour restlessly tossing and turning, he had finally thrown aside his bed covers in disgust. \u201cMaybe now\u2019d be a good time t\u2019 at least start reading over that lumber contract,\u201d he mumbled very softly, under his breath, as he hauled himself up out of bed, and groped in the darkness for his robe . . . .<\/p>\n He had spent the better part of the last hour and a half reading and re-reading that first paragraph until the words blurred to an indecipherable mass of consonants, vowels, and punctuation, devoid of any and all meaning. The tedious process of trying to make some sense of the all too precise legal wording of the document coupled with his increasing concern about Stacy\u2019s safety left him feeling mentally drained and on edge physically. He set the papers on the desk in front of him and massaged his temples against the beginnings of a rip-roaring headache.<\/p>\n Startled by the sound of her father\u2019s voice and his presence, combined with the fear and claustrophobia left in the wake of her dream, Stacy nearly jumped right out of her skin.<\/p>\n Ben rose, an anxious frown knotting his brow. \u201cStacy, are you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n She swallowed, and took a deep, ragged breath. \u201cI . . . I will be, Pa,\u201d she replied, her voice shaking. \u201cI just need to get out in the open for a little while. There\u2019s enough time for Blaze Face and me to take a short ride before breakfast\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStacy . . . the night before last, you promised me you wouldn\u2019t go out by yourself until we could resolve this matter concerning Zachary Hilliard,\u201d Ben said. \u201cRemember?\u201d<\/p>\n In her fright and panic, she had completely forgotten. \u201cPa, can you come with me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow?!\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy vigorously nodded her head.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not even dressed,\u201d Ben pointed out the obvious in a reasonable tone of voice.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease? It wouldn\u2019t take you long to\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEven if I went up now, by the time I finished getting washed and dressed, it would be almost time for breakfast,\u201d Ben protested. \u201cTell you what! AFTER breakfast, we can saddle up, and\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa, I can\u2019t wait that long!\u201d Stacy wailed. \u201cIf I stay in this house another minute I . . . I swear . . . I\u2019m gonna run mad!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStacy\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d she rounded on him furiously.<\/p>\n \u201cI think you\u2019d better go up to your room and stay there until you calm down,\u201d Ben said firmly.<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy exhaled an audible sigh of anger and frustration, before turning heel and fleeing to the upper environs of the house. Her loud angry footfalls echoed through the house, culminating with the slamming shut of her bedroom door.<\/p>\n Ben picked up the document, and tried again to read it. Within less than five minutes, he threw it back down on the desk again in angry frustration. \u201cMight as well get dressed,\u201d he sighed, rising.<\/p>\n \u201cGood morning, Ben,\u201d Paris greeted him in the hallway, an hour later, after he had dressed and shaved.<\/p>\n \u201cGood morning, Paris.\u201d He was pleased to see that not only was she up and about, but for the first time since her arrival she had gotten dressed. Her clothing bagged loosely on her thin, emaciated frame, but Hop Sing\u2019s good cooking would solve that problem in short order. \u201cYou\u2019re looking very well today. How are you feeling?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou lie through your teeth, Ben Cartwright,\u201d Paris returned playfully. \u201cTruth be known, I probably look like I\u2019ve been tied to the underside of a stagecoach and dragged the entire length and breadth of Virginia City a hundred times over. I AM feeling much better, however . . . . \u201d She fell silent for a moment. \u201cBen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m so glad you insisted on my coming to the Ponderosa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy pleasure,\u201d Ben said sincerely. Their passage toward the stairs took them past the closed door to Stacy\u2019s room. \u201cParis, can you make it downstairs on your own?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I can,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll see you at breakfast,\u201d he said. \u201cThere\u2019s somebody I have to talk to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure, Ben,\u201d Paris said, remembering the footsteps earlier that sounded for all the world like a cattle stampede, and the slamming door. \u201cSee you downstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben turned his attention to the fast closed door. He took a deep breath, and knocked. \u201cStacy, it\u2019s Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome in,\u201d a small, contrite voice invited from within.<\/p>\n Ben opened the door and walked in. Stacy stood before the window with her back to the door, head bowed and arms folded across her chest. Ben crossed the room and took his place beside her. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I took your head off earlier,\u201d he said quietly, placing his arm around her shoulders. \u201cReading legal documents always leaves me a feeling little irritable. I had no right to take it out on you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, too, Pa,\u201d Stacy said, her voice unsteady.<\/p>\n Ben saw a single stray tear slip over her eyelid and roll down her cheek. \u201cIf you\u2019d like, the offer is still open to go for a ride after breakfast,\u201d he said, handing her a handkerchief.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, Pa,\u201d Stacy said, accepting the proffered handkerchief and olive branch. \u201cI\u2019d like that very much.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s settled,\u201d Ben said. \u201cBreakfast should be ready in a few minutes . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be right down.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll see you in a few minutes downstairs in the dining room,\u201d he said, then left her alone, satisfied that all was right between them, at least for the time being. \u201cIt\u2019s been . . . what? Three days now? . . . and she\u2019s already chomping at the bit,\u201d<\/em> Ben mused in uneasy silence. \u201cI sure hope Roy turns up something soon . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cThe kid and her pa just came out of the house, Sarge. Looks like they\u2019re headed for the barn,\u201d Alexander Deveraux observed in a smooth, oily tone, as he lowered the telescope in hand. He was a short, portly man, with a full head of black hair slicked back with an overabundance of hair cream. His round, flabby face and eyelids almost overwhelmed his black, piercing eyes, lending him a look of stupidity. He had served in the U.S. Army during what many referred to as the War Between the States, rising to the rank of corporal. In the years since, he had become an aimless drifter, with a voracious appetite for rotgut whiskey, games of chance, and women of dubious reputation, in that order. \u201cI have a clear shot at the girl. All YOU have to do is . . . give the word.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPut away your weapon, Corporal. Now!\u201d Jeff Collier, the man addressed as Sarge, curtly rebuked his companion. \u201cFirst of all, our position is too far distant— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, it ain\u2019t,\u201d Alexander rudely cut the sergeant off mid-sentence. \u201cWith my rifle— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRifle or no, it\u2019s still too risky from our position,\u201d Jeff countered, sparing no effort to conceal his growing annoyance with the corporal, \u201c . . . and even if it WASN\u2019T too risky, we\u2019ve been given new orders. The captain doesn\u2019t want her killed. Not yet. He wants us to continue our surveillance of the Cartwright family, especially the girl, and take note of their comings and goings. That is ALL!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ve been out here . . . for what\u2019s gotta be going on close to a whole solid month . . . doing nothing BUT watch the damned Cartwright family,\u201d Alexander groused through clenched teeth.<\/p>\n \u201cTwo weeks and three days,\u201d one of the younger men within their circle said in a clear, crisp tone of voice. His name was Seth Harris. He was tall, with chest and shoulders broad and well muscled, that tapered down to a trim, narrow waist. His hair, according to his indulgent mother, was the color of wild buttercups and liquid sunshine. He had cut his once thick, wavy locks, down to the nubs the day he enlisted in Mister Lincoln\u2019s army that he might do his part in the fight to preserve the union, and had maintained it thus, ever since. His father had rather sardonically remarked that his shorn hair reminded him of a grassy pasture, after a flock of sheep had finished grazing. His mother was grief stricken.<\/p>\n \u201cTwo weeks \u2018n three days . . . two days \u2018n three hours?! Who the hell cares?!\u201d Alexander groused. \u201cStill SEEMS like a blamed month o\u2019 Sundays, when a body\u2019s been sleeping on the cold, hard, sometimes WET ground . . . sweltering under a hot sun all day . . . freezin\u2019 his butt off all night . . . livin\u2019 on nothin\u2019 but cold beans, beef jerky, \u2018n water so we can watch the Cartwrights doin\u2019 the same ol\u2019 things day after day after day . . . . \u201d An exasperated sigh exploded from between his lips, thinned with anger. \u201cI\u2019m beginnin\u2019 t\u2019 have a whole lotta second thoughts about my joining up with this . . . this damned chicken outfit . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou may entertain all the second thoughts you want, Corporal Deveraux,\u201d Jeff Collier countered in a low, menacing tone, \u201cjust so long as you DON\u2019T think about deserting.\u201d<\/p>\n Alexander unconsciously stepped back, and raised his arms to shield his face against the cold, angry glare on the sergeant\u2019s face, and the hard glint of cold steel in his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cNo one leaves until our mission is complete.\u201d<\/p>\n Alexander reluctantly placed his rifle aside, leaning it up against the boulder behind him, just to his right. \u201cAll right, Sergeant Collier . . . how much longer are we supposed to remain here, watching the Cartwrights?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUntil we\u2019re told otherwise,\u201d Jeff replied.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and who\u2019s the idiot that changed the orders?\u201d he groused.<\/p>\n \u201cThe captain,\u201d Jeff snapped, his scowl deepening.<\/p>\n Alexander blanched. \u201cS-Sorry . . . I didn\u2019t mean nothin\u2019 by it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll let it pass THIS time, Corporal,\u201d Jeff said in a voice, stone cold. \u201cIn the future, however, I would strongly advise you to give thought to your words before you speak them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Alexander murmured. \u201cWould it be outta line for me to ask why?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy . . . what?\u201d Jeff demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy the captain changed our orders.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe has his reasons,\u201d Jeff said curtly. \u201cWe\u2019ll know what they are when and IF we need to know.\u201d<\/p>\n Alexander lapsed into a sullen silence.<\/p>\n Jeff cast a look of disgust at his companion, then returned to his vigil, just in time to see Stacy and Ben walk out of the barn, leading their saddled horses. His thoughts drifted back to the war and the battle at Antietam Creek.<\/p>\n It was during the attack on the bridge, that would be known in later years as Burnsides\u2019 Bridge, he was severely wounded, and left for dead among the dead. The attack began during the late afternoon, early evening hours of September 17, 1862. He was among the men ordered to cross and hold that bridge. The bridge was taken, but with heavy losses. Five hundred Confederates held out against nine thousand Union soldiers. They pressed forward with their attack, pushing Longstreet\u2019s men back towards the town of Sharpsburg, Maryland. They had General Lee and his men boxed in and on the run. Had it not been for the arrival of General A. P. Hill and his men from Harper\u2019s Ferry, AND General McClellen\u2019s refusal to send in reinforcements, the Army of Northern Virginia would not have lived to fight another day, let alone the next two years.<\/p>\n The day, that might have gone down in the history books as the day the Army of Northern Virginia was crushed and the back of the Confederacy broken, instead became known as the single, bloodiest day of fighting during the course of the American Civil War. All because, for whatever reason, General McClellen refused to send in reinforcements at two critical junctures, one of them being the battle at the bridge, where Jeff Collier was wounded and almost certainly would have died along with so many others, had it not been for one John McKenna.<\/p>\n During the night, his commanding officer, then Lieutenant John McKenna, returned for him and carried him back to safety. McKenna was given a field promotion to captain for that act of foolhardy bravery. Furthermore, McKenna saw to it that he received the medical attention he needed. He, as a small way towards repaying the debt he owed the captain, had privately vowed his undying loyalty.<\/p>\n The sergeant intended to honor that vow, no matter how distasteful he might find doing so personally. The thought of killing a young woman in cold blood . . . a young woman not much more than a child, a little older perhaps than his eldest daughter, Annabelle . . . left a bitter, rancid taste in his mouth. The captain\u2019s obsession with the girl\u2019s demise was very troubling to say the least, but his was not to question. His duty was to obey, and trust that the captain had valid reasons for his actions. While there was no question in his own mind that he would carry out any orders issued him, he still found a measure of guilty relief in the change.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Father and daughter stood side by side, holding the reins of their horses atop a rocky promontory overlooking a panoramic vista of lake, field, and the pine trees for which Ben Cartwright had named their home. Overhead, the sky was clear, and in the distance they could see the mountains. Adam Cartwright had named this place Ponderosa Plunge the first time Ben brought him here, more years ago now than he cared to contemplate. From that time on, this spot had become Adam\u2019s special place, as it had been a place where he and Marie enjoyed visiting together. Now, Ponderosa Plunge had become one of several favorite places for his daughter.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, Stacy? Is this enough open space for you?\u201d Ben asked, gesturing to the view below them.<\/p>\n \u201cYes hardly seems adequate,\u201d Stacy replied. \u201c \u2018O God, how excellent is Your Name in all the Earth . . . when I consider Your Heavens, the work of Your Fingers, the Moon and Stars which You have ordained, what is man . . . or woman . . . that You are mindful of them, or their sons and daughters that You visit them?\u2019 [8] \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTaken from Psalm Eight,\u201d Ben said, pleasantly surprised. Though he and Stacy occasionally sat down with the enormous, ancient family Bible that had been handed down for many generations on his mother\u2019s side of the family, he had no idea that she had done any reading on her own.<\/p>\n \u201cI stand here this day I stand here this day I stand here this day O Great Spirit, \u201cPa, that\u2019s beautiful!\u201d Stacy exclaimed with delight. \u201cPaiute?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded. \u201cChief Red Hawk, an old friend, taught me that prayer many years ago,\u201d he said. \u201cInteresting how the psalm and the prayer inspire awe in the beauty of nature . . . and put us humans in our place at the same time.\u201d<\/p>\n Both lapsed into companionable silence as they stood contemplating a breathtaking vista they would over the course of their lifetimes always return to again and again.<\/p>\n \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hope and pray we humans don\u2019t ever forget our place,\u201d Stacy said soberly.<\/p>\n \u201cMe, too,\u201d Ben agreed. He turned and studied her for a moment. \u201cIs everything . . . all right?\u201d he ventured hesitantly.<\/p>\n \u201cIt is now, Pa,\u201d Stacy replied.<\/p>\n For a quick, fleeting moment, Ben sensed that she held back on him. His mind replayed their initial argument earlier, and he realized for the first time that something had to have upset her, more than likely another dream. In the next instant, he realized with a pang of regret that he had never even asked.<\/p>\n \u201cReally, Pa, I\u2019m ok now,\u201d she said again, looking over at him quizzically. \u201cSometimes when I feel like things are closing in on me, I just need to get outside in the open, you know . . . to put things in perspective.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I know,\u201d Ben agreed, astonished at how she could sometimes read him so easily. He accepted her explanation at face value, realizing that he needed to allow her time and space to work things through on her own.<\/p>\n By unspoken agreement, they turned from the edge and began walking back toward their horses. \u201cCan we stop by the corral?\u201d Stacy asked. \u201cI\u2019d love to see that new golden stallion that just came in off the range.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019s the ankle?\u201d Ben asked, as he prepared to climb onto Buck\u2019s back.<\/p>\n \u201cFine,\u201d Stacy said quickly.<\/p>\n \u201cLet me see you walk a few steps,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Stacy shrugged and complied. \u201cSee, Pa? All better!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMUCH better, perhaps . . . ALL better, no,\u201d Ben observed wryly.<\/p>\n Stacy\u2019s face fell.<\/p>\n \u201cHowever, I think you ARE doing well enough to begin working out with that stallion,\u201d Ben continued. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. \u201cYou can start as soon as we reach the corral, if your brothers have no objections.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, Pa,\u201d Stacy said, as she climbed up onto the back of her own mount. \u201cLet\u2019s go.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cBen! You\u2019re back!\u201d Paris exclaimed, mildly surprised and thoroughly delighted, as he entered through the front door, with hat in hand. She stood over behind the desk, perusing the titles making up Ben\u2019s personal library. The massive grandfather clock had just struck the quarter hour before eleven. \u201cHow was your ride out to Ponderosa Plunge?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStacy and I enjoyed it very much. I think it did both of us a world of good to just take the morning and ride out to someplace beautiful,\u201d Ben replied, as he placed his hat on one of the pegs beside the door, then set himself to the task of removing his gun belt.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere\u2019s Stacy now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI left her with Hoss and Joe at the horse corral.\u201d<\/p>\n An anxious frown deepened the lines and furrows already indelibly etched into the plain of her brow. \u201cWill she be alright?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded. \u201cHer brothers and Candy will look after her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTea and cookies for Mister Cartwright and Miss Paris,\u201d Hop Sing blithely announced, as he ambled into the great room bearing the silver tea service, with two cups and saucers, and a small plate with a half dozen sugar cookies, \u201cfresh and hot just out of oven. Help put meat on Miss Paris\u2019 bones.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Hop Sing,\u201d Paris said with a smile.<\/p>\n \u201cRead later, Missy,\u201d Hop Sing admonished, as set the tray down on the coffee table. \u201cCome. Eat. You, too, Mister Cartwright. Come. Eat now, while still hot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I, for one am NOT going to turn down cookies, fresh and hot, right out of the oven,\u201d Paris declared, as she moved out from behind the desk.<\/p>\n Ben placed his gun belt on the credenza, then walked over and offered Paris his arm.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d Paris murmured softly, as she slipped her small hand through the crook of his elbow. Her heart pounded with excitement and a healthy dose of trepidation, when he reached over and covered her hand with his own, and gently squeezed.<\/p>\n Ben gallantly steered her over in the direction of the settee, and gestured for her to sit down. Paris nodded, then seated herself primly square in the middle of the settee.<\/p>\n \u201cTea?\u201d Ben queried, as he sat down close beside her.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I\u2014 \u201d Paris, much to her chagrin, felt the hot rush of blood to her cheeks, upon hearing the nervous squeak in her voice. She took a deep ragged breath, and cleared her throat. \u201cThank you, Ben. I\u2019d love some,\u201d she replied, her voice husky, and at least two whole octaves lower.<\/p>\n An amused smile tugged hard at the corner of Ben\u2019s mouth, as he poured each of them a cup of tea. \u201cEarl Gray,\u201d he remarked, handing her a cup and saucer.<\/p>\n Paris kept her eyes pointedly focused on the tea within her cup. \u201cS-So nice of Hop Sing to remember after . . . after all these years,\u201d she marveled.<\/p>\n \u201cCookie?\u201d Ben asked, as he lifted the plate of cookies from the silver tea tray and held them out.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you.\u201d Paris took a sip from her cup, then set it and saucer down on the coffee table.<\/p>\n \u201cParis?\u201d Ben queried with an anxious frown. \u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFine, Ben. Honest. I\u2019m just fine, really and truly,\u201d she babbled, as she reached for one cookie, then another. She set one of the cookies down on her saucer, and took a big bite from the one in hand. \u201cWonderful cookies! Absolutely wonderful! Ben, you\u2019d better grab your share quick, before I . . . before I devour the entire plateful.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben laughed. \u201cGo ahead. You\u2019d make Hop Sing the happiest man on Earth.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnything to make Hop Sing happy . . . . \u201d Paris murmured softly. As she sat drinking her tea, and making very short work of Hop Sing\u2019s sugar cookies, memories of another time, long ago, when she and Ben Cartwright found themselves alone in this house together rose, unbidden. She again felt the sudden rush of blood to her cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cParis?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA penny for your thoughts.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do I have the distinct feeling that you already know what my thoughts are?\u201d Paris demanded. Though she turned and looked him in the face, her eyes fell just short of meeting his.<\/p>\n \u201cProbably because I\u2019m remembering that other time, too.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris immediately averted her eyes to her lap. \u201cOh, Ben, we shouldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs that what you want?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris exhaled a loud sigh of exasperation, then turned and, this time, boldly met his dark eyes with her intense blue ones. \u201cYou know damned well that ISN\u2019T what I want, Ben Cartwright. I\u2019m . . . I\u2019m trying to be sensible, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not so sure I want to be sensible, Paris,\u201d he said gently, with all sincerity.<\/p>\n \u201cIf we had the common sense God gave a horse\u2019s arse, we WOULD be sensible,\u201d she snapped. \u201cIt\u2019s been sixteen years, Ben . . . almost seventeen. That\u2019s almost . . . . \u201d Her short burst of temper dissipated, leaving sadness, and a multitude of bitter regrets. \u201cAlmost seventeen years . . . that\u2019s nearly half my life,\u201d she said wistfully.<\/p>\n \u201cParis, what matters is the years that lie ahead,\u201d Ben said, as he took the cup and saucer from her hands and placed it down on the coffee table, \u201cnot the years gone by . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re wrong, Ben,\u201d she said, her voice breaking. \u201cThose years DO matter . . . they m-matter a great deal. So much has happened, I . . . I can\u2019t ever go back to being the wide-eyed innocent young girl I was then\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t expect you to,\u201d Ben said, taking both of her hands in his own. \u201cI . . . suspect . . . you\u2019ve traveled a good deal, you\u2019ve met a lot of people, and have been involved in different lines of work.<\/p>\n \u201cAlthough I\u2019ve remained here . . . on the Ponderosa, I\u2019ve seen my eldest leave to make his own place in the world,\u201d Ben continued. \u201cHe\u2019s since married a lovely woman, and settled down with her and their two children. I find myself traveling to Sacramento a lot more often and staying longer.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . I\u2019ve seen my younger boys, Hoss and Joe, grow and mature into men, I\u2019m not only very proud to call my sons, but men I\u2019ve come to trust and respect as my peers, as well. I\u2019ve also adopted a daughter . . . seen her, and my sons through a lot of ups and downs . . . and I\u2019ve learned a lot of hard lessons myself in the process. Neither one of us are the same people we were seventeen years ago, Paris.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cN-No . . . I d-don\u2019t suppose we are . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell you what,\u201d Ben said, as he placed his arm around her shoulders. \u201cHow about the two of us taking things slowly? Just let unfold whatever is going to unfold at its own pace and time. Would you be willing to do that?\u201d<\/p>\n Her mind raced. She wanted so much to say yes, but . . . dear God, if he EVER found out about Rose Miranda, he would despise her. A week ago, it wouldn\u2019t have mattered, but now . . . after having spent the last few days here, falling in love with him all over again despite her best intentions . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t bear the thought of him hating me, I can\u2019t,\u201d<\/em> she lamented in silent misery.<\/p>\n \u201cHow CAN he find out about Rose Miranda?\u201d<\/em> a small, strident voice deep within asserted itself. \u201cYour brother\u2019s hardly likely to show up here on Ben Cartwright\u2019s doorstep . . . and all the others who know about Rose Miranda are dead.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Dared she hope?<\/p>\n \u201cBen?\u201d she said aloud.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . I AM willing to . . . to let be . . . and let happen whatever is MEANT to happen,\u201d Paris said.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m a soldier gol\u2019 dammit, a SOLDIER!\u201d Alexander Deveraux angrily groused under his breath. \u201cI fought in the trenches right along side the best of \u2018em. I killed MORE \u2018n my share o\u2019 Rebs . . . and what\u2019ve they got me doing?! Playing messenger boy!\u201d<\/p>\n Ok, so he had fallen asleep while on watch five days ago . . . but that was hardly his fault. Sergeant Collier was the one who had ordered him to go into town and lay in some fresh food and other supplies. While he was in the general store, trying to settle up with the crabby proprietress, he bumped into his brother-in-law, Noah Brown. Noah invited him over to the Silver Dollar Saloon for a beer and a chat . . . well, suffice it to say, it would have been very rude to refuse. He had accepted his brother-in-law\u2019s invitation, intending to have one beer, maybe two . . . but no more!<\/p>\n That first beer had almost immediately led to the second when one of the locals sauntered in, bold as brass, and bought a round drinks for the house. He had no sooner finished that beer, when Noah insisted on buying him a third. In the interest of good manners, he had accepted, then bought a drink for Noah in return. Instead of beer, his brother-in-law ordered a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. In the further interest of good manners, he had accepted the second glass. He couldn\u2019t just sit there, like a lump, and let Noah drink alone . . . .<\/p>\n After all . . . it was the first time he and his brother-in-law had laid eyes on each other in fifteen years. Surely THAT was worthy of a celebration . . . .<\/p>\n Wasn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n Alexander remembered the two of them polishing off that bottle of whiskey in very short order. He and Noah had another beer after that, then another. The rest of the night was lost in a hazy, drunken blur. He was found in the livery stable by Lieutenant Hilliard and that snotty little upstart, who had served at the unit\u2019s drummer boy, sprawled on top of a mound of straw, \u201csnorin\u2019 louder, \u2018n more obnoxious than a thousand head o\u2019 cattle, stuffed up with head colds . . . all lowin\u2019 at the same time,\u201d according to that mean ol\u2019 coot, a little squint of a man by the name of Lafe. [9]<\/p>\n He had tried to explain, but they wouldn\u2019t listen . . . and THAT rankled!<\/p>\n Still \u2018n all, Alexander Deveraux was a soldier, and a good one. As such, he was prepared to take his punishment, no matter how unjust and unfair it may be. Lieutenant Hilliard, however, had opted to make an example of Sergeant Collier instead, as a \u201charsh, but necessary object lesson.\u201d After all, a leader is responsible for his subordinates. The sentence was fifty lashes from the lieutenant\u2019s riding crop against the tender skin of the sergeant\u2019s back. Sarge had borne it all in his usual stoic way, but afterwards, it seemed all the men in their unit hated him with a passion.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . ain\u2019t MY fault the lieutenant ordered Sarge to take my punishment,\u201d Alexander muttered under his breath, as he dismounted from his horse, and tethered its lead to the hitching post on the street in front of Fuhrman\u2019s Lumber and Hardware . . . \u201csix long blocks from where I\u2019m s\u2019posed to be.\u201d<\/p>\n He had served under Captain John McKenna for the duration of the war. Though he admired and respected the captain for his ability, bravery, leadership, and tactical prowess, he had disagreed completely with his high notions of chivalry and honor. Now, as far as the Cartwright girl was concerned, it looked as though the captain had decided to do away with all those snooty, inconvenient, high fa-lootin\u2019 ideals . . . and that suited Alexander Deveraux just fine.<\/p>\n He turned and gazed over at the Silver Dollar Saloon, directly across the street from the hardware store, contemplating. A glance at his pocket watch told him the time was six minutes before the hour of eight o\u2019clock. His meeting with the lieutenant was scheduled for five minutes after eight, leaving him a total of eleven minutes to kill.<\/p>\n Alexander gazed longingly at the Silver Dollar, trying to determine whether or not he had time to run in for a quick beer. In the end, he discarded the idea. The lieutenant had issued strict orders, forbidding him to imbibe so much as \u201ca single drop of beer, whiskey, or other \u2018spirited\u2019 drinks.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs the lieutenant here?\u201d<\/em> an inner voice, sounding too close to that of his late, unlamented step-father, chided him derisively.<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cThen, who\u2019s to know?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cThe lieutenant. He has his ways . . . and sooner or later, he\u2019d find out. He always does.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Alexander sighed, wondering again for the umpteenth time why he had agreed to sign on with this rag-tag chicken outfit. He hadn\u2019t eaten a decent meal in . . . he couldn\u2019t remember when, and though the sergeant was a decent enough cook, meal after meal after meal of beans and beef jerky for days on end, had worn thin a long time ago.<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t eat . . . can\u2019t even sit down \u2018n have a lousy mug of beer . . . so help me, when this mission\u2019s done, I\u2019m gonna go to a real posh restaurant somewhere and order me the biggest steak they got, and a bottle of their finest champagne to wash it down,\u201d Alexander groused, as he made his way down the street toward the Bucket of Blood Saloon.<\/p>\n Upon reaching his destination, Alexander stepped up to the door and peered inside. His beady, pig-like eyes moved along the line of tables up against the back wall. The object of his search had obviously arrived early, and now sat alone at the table in the corner furthest from the bar, half hidden in deep shadow. He discreetly made his way through the sparsely populated saloon toward his quarry, grateful now that he hadn\u2019t given in to the temptation of stopping by the Silver Dollar first.<\/p>\n A moment later, Alexander Deveraux stood at rigid attention before the table, occupied by the man he had come to meet. \u201cLieutenant Hilliard,\u201d he said stiffly, taking care to keep his voice low, \u201cCorporal Deveraux reporting as ordered.\u201d<\/p>\n The grizzled, gray haired man, seated at the table, glanced up sharply. He wore a pair of ragged flannel slacks, and a white linen shirt yellowed in the front due to age and countless exposures to the sun. \u201cMy NAME is Bill Taylor,\u201d he said tersely, through clenched teeth, while leveling a deadly withering glare at the man standing before him. \u201cRemember?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Alexander managed politely, all the while silently bristling against the reprimand.<\/p>\n \u201cAt ease, Mister Deveraux, sit down,\u201d Zachary Hilliard ordered. His eyes darted furtively over the room and the small handful of patrons. \u201cReport.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe girl\u2019s kept to the house for the last three days or so,\u201d Alexander began.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d Zachary snapped out the question.<\/p>\n For a moment, Alexander stared over at Zachary with a bewildered frown.<\/p>\n \u201cWHY has the Cartwright girl kept close to the house?\u201d Zachary asked again, taking no pains to conceal impatience.<\/p>\n Alexander shrugged with an air of supreme indifference. \u201cHow should I know?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFind out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI gave you a direct order, Mister Deveraux,\u201d Zachary said in a tight, angry voice. \u201cYou WILL find out why the Cartwright girl has kept to the house for the past three days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t see what difference it makes\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt might make a big difference if she\u2019s keeping to the house because of that botched attempt YOUR man made on her life,\u201d Zachary replied in a wry, sardonic tone.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t see how,\u201d Alexander whined.<\/p>\n \u201cThat girl may be keeping close to the house because her father\u2019s suspicions have been aroused,\u201d Zachary explained, in the same condescending tone of voice he might use to explain a difficult concept to a very dull witted child. \u201cThat would mean our mission has been compromised. At worst, we may end up having to abort the mission entirely. Should THAT come to pass, Mister Deveraux, I will personally turn you over to the captain\u2019s tender mercies to answer for it. Do I make myself clear?\u201d<\/p>\n Alexander blanched, and nodded his head vigorously.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and since we\u2019re on the subject of your man\u2019s botched attempt on the Cartwright girl\u2019s life,\u201d Zachary continued, \u201cit rudely came to my attention last night that you left a loose end dangling.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLoose end?!\u201d Alexander echoed, whining. \u201cWHAT loose end?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour man himself,\u201d Zachary replied. \u201cI believe he calls himself Eddie Jones . . . among others?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Jones paid a visit to my lodging last night, Mister Deveraux,\u201d Zachary replied. \u201cThat incompetent simpleton actually had the audacity to blackmail me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou heard me. He told me straight out that if I didn\u2019t pay him ten thousand dollars in cash by tomorrow tonight, he would go straight to the sheriff.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDamn!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou will tie up that loose end, Mister Deveraux,\u201d Zachary ordered. \u201cI don\u2019t care how, but you WILL tie it up. Permanently.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Alexander murmured contritely.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease continue with the remainder of your report.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe Cartwright girl . . . umm, left the house with her old man this morning,\u201d Alexander continued. \u201cFirst time she\u2019s b-been out in the last three days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI gathered that,\u201d Zachary said in a wry tone of voice. \u201cWhere did they go?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno. Out. Somewhere . . . a ways off, I s\u2019pose . . . they took their horses.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFind out WHERE they went,\u201d Zachary ordered, his voice filled with disdain. \u201cI will expect that, along with the reason the girl\u2019s kept to the house for the past three days included in your next report.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat time did they leave the house?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe girl and the old man?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Zachary said curtly. \u201cThe girl and the old man. What time did they leave the house?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was . . . well, it was this morning,\u201d Alexander stammered.<\/p>\n \u201cI did NOT ask you what time of day, Corporal. I asked you what TIME.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . dunno.\u201d Alexander began to squirm. \u201cIt was LATE morning . . . sometime after they ate their breakfast, and . . . and got their h-horses saddled. But I dunno what time it was . . . exactly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat time did they return?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou will answer THOSE questions in your next report as well, Corporal Deveraux,\u201d Zachary said curtly. \u201cWhat of the girl\u2019s regular schedule?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-You mean . . . before she . . . before she started keeping herself inside the house?\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cSo far as I could tell, she pretty much did the same things every day,\u201d Alexander reported. \u201cYou know . . . get up . . . do chores with her brothers . . . eat breakfast . . . head off for school. Usual stuff, though . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Zachary snapped.<\/p>\n \u201cFor the past week or so, she\u2019s not been in school.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe teacher\u2019s been sick for the past week,\u201d Alexander replied, vastly relieved he knew the answer to this question. \u201cBad cold, maybe pneumonia. There\u2019s been talk of bringing in a substitute, but the school board\u2019s not decided.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary nodded, satisfied with the corporal\u2019s answer. \u201cContinue,\u201d he ordered.<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . with her not being in school, she\u2019s been leaving the house after breakfast with her brother\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWHICH brother?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe big lummox.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is his NAME, Corporal?\u201d Zachary demanded in a tone that dripped icicles.<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno . . . they call him Horse, or something like that . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n An long exasperated sigh escaped through Zachary Hilliard\u2019s thinning lips and clenched jaw. \u201cYou WILL learn the names of the entire Cartwright family,\u201d he ordered, \u201cand the next time you give report you will refer to them BY NAME.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cContinue.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe girl and the big man have been going down to the corral, where the Cartwrights break and train their horses,\u201d Alexander continued, regretting now that he hadn\u2019t indulged himself in a beer at the Silver Dollar. \u201cShe\u2019s been helping the big guy train \u2018em, once they\u2019ve been broke. They come back to the house for their noon meal, then they\u2019ll either go back to the horse corral, or take care of some other chores at the house.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat kind of chores?\u201d Zachary asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno . . . exactly,\u201d Alexander replied. \u201cWhatever kinds of chores they do on a farm or big ranch . . . like . . . well, they gotta muck out the stalls in the barn, I expect, and . . . their Chinese cook keeps chickens, which means someone\u2019s gotta feed \u2018em and gather the eggs, \u2018n all . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Deveraux, you have just wasted . . . . \u201d Zachary\u2019s eyes darted over to the regulator clock hanging on the wall near the saloon door, \u201c . . . nearly an hour of MY precious time. When we meet again, three days hence, I expect a FULL and COMPLETE report. I want to know WHAT the Cartwrights, especially the girl, do and WHEN they do it. When they leave the Ponderosa I want to know WHERE they go, WHEN they go, and WHY they go. I also want names, dates, and exact times. Is that clear?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou will also deal with Eddie Jones,\u201d Zachary continued. \u201cIf he comes to my lodging again, demanding payment, you will personally answer to the captain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno . . . exactly,\u201d Alexander replied. \u201cWhatever kinds of chores they do on a farm or big ranch . . . like . . . well, they gotta muck out the stalls in the barn, I expect, and . . . their Chinese cook keeps chickens, which means someone\u2019s gotta feed \u2018em and gather the eggs, \u2018n all . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Deveraux, you have just wasted . . . . \u201d Zachary\u2019s eyes darted over to the regulator clock hanging on the wall near the saloon door, \u201c . . . nearly an hour of MY precious time. When we meet again, three days hence, I expect a FULL and COMPLETE report. I want to know WHAT the Cartwrights, especially the girl, do and WHEN they do it. When they leave the Ponderosa I want to know WHERE they go, WHEN they go, and WHY they go. I also want names, dates, and exact times. Is that clear?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou will also deal with Eddie Jones,\u201d Zachary continued. \u201cIf he comes to my lodging again, demanding payment, you will personally answer to the captain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cS-Sir, I can\u2019t— \u201d<\/p>\n Zachary cut off Samuel\u2019s protests with a curt gesture. \u201cMY needs are minimal,\u201d he whispered. \u201cAs I recall, Mister Yates, YOU have an elderly, infirm mother . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n It HAD been a long while since he\u2019d last sent anything to his oldest brother toward the care of his mother . . . two, going on three months at the very least. \u201cThank you, Sir,\u201d Samuel replied, accepting the money with much reluctance. \u201cI\u2019ll pay you back when . . . when the captain\u2019s able to pay US.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Yates . . . Samuel . . . I consider you a loyal soldier and . . . and trusted friend,\u201d Zachary said earnestly. \u201cWe\u2019re our positions reversed, I KNOW you\u2019d be the first to dig into his pocket.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Sir . . . I appreciate your generosity . . . more than you\u2019ll know.\u201d Samuel cast a quick, furtive glance over his shoulder, noting with satisfaction and a measure of relief that all of the patrons were clustered around the bar. \u201c . . . uhhh, Mister Taylor . . . permission to speak freely?\u201d he queried in a low voice, as he returned his attention to Zachary.<\/p>\n \u201cPermission granted.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . couldn\u2019t help but overhear the conversation between you and the corporal, Sir, and . . . frankly? I\u2019m worried.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout Corporal Deveraux specifically?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Samuel replied. \u201cFrom the sound of things, he . . . Sir, he . . . his actions could seriously jeopardize our mission, if they\u2019ve not done so already.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe thought has crossed MY mind as well, Young Man,\u201d Zachary said. \u201cYou may rest assured, I AM well aware of the man\u2019s ineptitude . . . and that I have the entire situation under control.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir,\u201d the young man stammered. \u201cI . . . I\u2019m sorry, I should have realized\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo apologies necessary, Mister Yates. You\u2019ve done nothing wrong in voicing your concerns,\u201d Zachary said quietly. \u201cIn fact, I applaud your candor and your powers of observation.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Late yesterday afternoon, she, Hoss, and Joe had moved the palomino stallion, taken from the range several days ago, to the corral next to the barn. \u201c . . . all the better for \u2018em to keep tabs on me like . . . like I\u2019m some little kid!\u201d she grumbled very softly, under her breath, then sighed. \u201cI know Pa only wants to protect me, but it\u2019s still not fair!\u201d<\/p>\n Blaze Face, her horse, nickered a soft greeting as she stepped inside the barn.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Morning, Blaze Face,\u201d Stacy murmured softly, as she walked over to his stall. She gently, lovingly stroked his muzzle. \u201cSorry we haven\u2019t been going out as often as we\u2019re used to, what with me spraining my ankle and now, Pa won\u2019t let us go out by ourselves because somebody cut the cinch strap on my saddle and someone else is asking folks in town questions about me . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Blaze Face snorted.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t like it either, but I promised Pa,\u201d Stacy sighed. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and buried her face against his coarse mane for a moment, before digging out a handful of the pellets from the supply she maintained in the bottom right pocket of her jacket. Stacy rubbed his neck as he ate. \u201cI\u2019ll see you later, Blaze Face,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Stacy let herself out of the barn and walked over to the corral to see palomino stallion she had named Sun Dancer, for his golden coat and high spirits.<\/p>\n The stallion, upon catching sight of her, tentatively approached, stopping in the middle of the enclosure. Stacy nickered softly, as she stepped up to the corral fence, then turned her back. She heard Sun Dancer nicker in return. He ventured closer, his steps halting and uncertain. At length, he reached the fence and gently nuzzled Stacy\u2019s hair and neck. She reached into her pocket, and drew out a handful of the same pellets she had given Blaze Face, taking great care to keep her movements slow and even. Sun Dancer cautiously sniffed then ate greedily.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re a sweet boy, Sun Dancer,\u201d Stacy said quietly. \u201cYes, you are!\u201d<\/p>\n The sound of the front door opening, then closing startled Sun Dancer, and sent him scurrying to the other side of the enclosed pasture. Stacy looked up and saw her brother, Hoss, still clad in nightshirt and robe, crossing the yard with a grim determined look on his face. She instinctively braced herself.<\/p>\n \u201cThere y\u2019 are,\u201d Hoss greeted her tersely. \u201cLi\u2019l Sister, to say you\u2019re in a world o\u2019 trouble right now is puttin\u2019 it mildly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHunh?! What did I do?\u201d Stacy demanded looking at him askance.<\/p>\n \u201cAll I know is, when Pa went upstairs t\u2019 tell ya breakfast is ready, and found your bed empty and you not in the house . . . . \u201d The roll of Hoss\u2019 eyes told Stacy more than she cared to know. \u201cBetter come on back inside \u2018n get this over with.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHoss . . . . \u201d Stacy had to run to keep up with him, as he made his way back to the house, \u201cfor cryin\u2019 out loud! I was just in the barn, then by the pasture\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t tell me, tell Pa,\u201d Hoss said.<\/p>\n Stacy scowled. \u201cI will,\u201d she said through clenched teeth.<\/p>\n \u201cThere you are, Kid,\u201d Joe greeted her as she stepped through the door. \u201cYou\u2019re in deep cattle crud now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGet stuffed, Grandpa,\u201d Stacy snapped, her anger rising.<\/p>\n Joe opened his mouth to utter the sharp retort that sprang to the tip of his tongue. Hoss placed his hand on Joe\u2019s shoulder and shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cI think it might be a real good idea for us to g\u2019won out to the barn right about now,\u201d Hoss said sotto voce, as Stacy walked resolutely toward their father, standing behind his desk.<\/p>\n \u201cThe barn?!\u201d Joe protested. \u201cAre you crazy, Big Brother? We\u2019re not even dressed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s either that or stay in the house.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe stole a furtive glance at the wrathful scowl on their father\u2019s face and their sister\u2019s stiffly erect posture. \u201cYeah,\u201d he said slowly. \u201cI\u2019m beginning to see your point . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201c . . . and just where have you been, Young Woman?\u201d Ben demanded, as Stacy came to a stop in front of his desk.<\/p>\n \u201cIn the barn and out by the corral,\u201d Stacy replied, bewildered and angry.<\/p>\n \u201cYou promised me you wouldn\u2019t go out on your own until we got this matter of Zachary Hilliard resolved,\u201d Ben hastened to remind her.<\/p>\n \u201cI wasn\u2019t!\u201d Stacy hotly defended herself. \u201cI only went out to SEE Blaze Face . . . and Sun Dancer, too. I didn\u2019t ride\u2014 \u201d She stopped abruptly mid-sentence, as the blood drained right out of her face. \u201cOh no!\u201d she whispered, as she stared over at her father through eyes round with horror. \u201cNo! Pa, you didn\u2019t mean\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I DID,\u201d Ben said sternly. \u201cWhen I said you weren\u2019t to go out on your own, I meant out of this house.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa, I was just out in the barn . . . and by the corral right in front of the house,\u201d Stacy wailed in dismay.<\/p>\n \u201cYou think nothing can happen to you there?\u201d Ben rounded on her furiously.<\/p>\n \u201cBut I was right out in front of the house . . . in full view of the windows!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m beginning to think you don\u2019t understand the seriousness of this situation,\u201d Ben said in clipped angry tones.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, yes, I do,\u201d Stacy countered, her rising fury pushing her to the edge of tears. \u201cI\u2019m under house arrest for something that . . . that son-of-a-bitch Zachary Hilliard did, and it\u2019s not fair!\u201d<\/p>\n Ben\u2019s scowl deepened. \u201cStacy Cartwright, your choice of words leaves a whole lot to be desired,\u201d he reprimanded her sharply.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t care,\u201d Stacy obstinately stood her ground. \u201cHe IS a son-of-a-bitch, and it\u2019s still not fair!\u201d With that, she abruptly turned heel and fled upstairs.<\/p>\n \u201cDamn!\u201d Ben swore vehemently, giving vent to his own anger, frustration, and fear for his daughter\u2019s safety.<\/p>\n Breakfast was a strained affair, with Stacy Cartwright being most conspicuous by her absence. Ben sat in his place at the head of the table, scowling down at a virtually untouched plate. While Hoss and Paris ate with good appetite, Joe spent most of his time pushing around the food on his plate, congealing everything into a large, unsavory, gray lump.<\/p>\n \u201cI have a good mind to make her stay in her room the rest of the day,\u201d Ben angrily broke the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the breakfast table.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, you can\u2019t do that,\u201d Hoss protested, drawing a sharp glance from his father. \u201cStacy and I started workin\u2019 with Sun Dancer yesterday. We gotta on keep workin\u2019 with him, until we earn his trust. I can\u2019t do that by myself.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben let out a curt, frustrated sigh.<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . . \u201d Hoss ventured hesitantly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Ben snapped.<\/p>\n \u201cIt seems to me Stacy\u2019s bein\u2019 punished enough by the restrictions you\u2019ve had to put on her,\u201d Hoss pointed out in a quiet, yet firm tone.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you telling me that I\u2019M being unreasonable?\u201d Ben demanded in an ice-cold tone that made his youngest son flinch.<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . I ain\u2019t sayin\u2019 that at all,\u201d Hoss countered, maintaining his ground. \u201cY\u2019 did what ya did for her own protection. I know that. Deep down, Stacy knows it, too.\u201d He paused. \u201cBut, that don\u2019t make it any easier to live with, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben sighed again, and shook his head. \u201cI know that, Son,\u201d he said, his anger dissipating. \u201cI just hope and pray we get some answers within the next couple of days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis!\u201d Ben murmured softly. He had half forgotten she was even there. \u201cParis, I . . . I hope you\u2019ll accept my apologies for\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t need to apologize, Ben,\u201d Paris gently cut him off. \u201cI . . . was just thinking that . . . well, on the off chance the Zachary Hilliard you\u2019re looking for IS the same man who served with my brother? You might send a wire to his mother. Her name is Henrietta Hilliard, and last I heard, she was living with a sister of hers in New York. It runs in my mind that Zachary and his mother were very close, and . . . I thought that she might be able to shed some light on where he is and what he\u2019s up to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Paris,\u201d Ben said gratefully. \u201cI\u2019ll see to it this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Hoss wisely waited until Ben had left for Virginia City to send that wire to Mrs. Henrietta Hilliard in New York, before going upstairs to fetch Stacy from her room. Initially, the girl was uncharacteristically quiet and subdued. Hoss could tell by her red cheeks and swollen eyelids that she had been crying. He decided, again wisely, that the less said about that now, the better.<\/p>\n Hoss and Stacy spent the better part of the next two hours with the wild stallion working to strengthen the tenuous bonds established the previous day. Sun Dancer began to approach them when they stood at the fence with their backs to him, with more confidence.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss?\u201d Stacy said, her voice just above the decibel of a whisper.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Li\u2019l Sister?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to try going into the enclosure,\u201d Stacy said quietly, \u201cto see if he\u2019ll come to me when I run away from him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou be careful now,\u201d Hoss warned. \u201cWe\u2019re makin\u2019 good progress, but he\u2019s still a wild one.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy nodded, then slowly climbed up over the fence, and dropped down lightly on the other side, under the watchful eyes of her big brother. The stallion immediately retreated to the far end of the corral. \u201cIt\u2019s ok, Sun Dancer . . . . \u201d she crooned softly, as she made her way toward the center of the corral, keeping her pace and body movements slow and easy. \u201cIt\u2019s ok, Boy . . . it\u2019s ok . . . . \u201d She nickered softly, then turned heel and ran away from the stallion, back toward the corral fence where Hoss stood watching.<\/p>\n Sun Dancer watched her for a moment, then ran after her. He approached, then turned before coming within ten feet of her, always maintaining a discreet distance. Stacy repeated the exercise with Sun Dancer several more times. Although he eagerly chased after her, he continued to keep himself well away.<\/p>\n \u201cWe need to wind things up, Stacy,\u201d Hoss said. \u201cIt\u2019ll be dinner time soon. We gotta let the horses out of the barn and clean their stalls before we eat.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy nodded, then sprinted over toward the fence and climbed back over. She and Hoss once again leaned up against the fence. This time, Hoss called the stallion\u2019s name and nickered. Sun Dancer\u2019s ears perked up with interest. He circled the pasture, then ran immediately over to the place occupied by Stacy and Hoss, nuzzling both, before lowering his face towards the pocket holding the feed.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s a smart one,\u201d Hoss declared with a grin, as Stacy offered him a handful of pellets. \u201cIf we don\u2019t look out, he\u2019s gonna be the one trainin\u2019 us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Li\u2019l Sister?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat makes you so sure he\u2019s NOT?\u201d Stacy asked. \u201cTraining US, I mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood question, I\u2014 \u201d Suddenly his entire body went rigid.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss? Hoss, what IS it?\u201d Stacy demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cHorses,\u201d Hoss murmured in a voice barely audible. \u201cStacy, you g\u2019won . . . get in t\u2019 house. I\u2019ll wait \u2018n see who it is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy? It\u2019s probably Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, it ain\u2019t,\u201d Hoss said tersely. \u201cI hear TWO horses . . . maybe more. Now you git, y\u2019 hear?\u201d<\/p>\n A curt exasperated sigh exploded from between her lips. \u201cHoss\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you stand there arguin\u2019 with me, Gal,\u201d Hoss turned on her, exasperated and anxious. \u201cNow you do like I told ya.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy muttered a string of Paiute expletives under her breath, as she turned and stomped across the yard.<\/p>\n Hoss winced when he heard the front door slam. \u201cI sure hope Hop Sing didn\u2019t have nothin\u2019 bakin\u2019 in the oven,\u201d he sighed. \u201cIf he did, there\u2019s gonna be the devil t\u2019 pay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Hoss . . . why the long face?\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss glanced up, just in time to see Arch Campbell and Dan Eberhardt come around the barn and enter the yard, with a packhorse in tow.<\/p>\n \u201cAww, it ain\u2019t nothin\u2019,\u201d Hoss replied. Glancing over at the packhorse, a big gelding named Geraldine, he noted that, with the exception of a leather bag containing tools, the animal\u2019s back was bare. \u201cLooks like you fellas made short work o\u2019 repairin\u2019 that fence,\u201d he observed with a satisfied, if surprised smile, \u201c \u2018n ya got it done a couple o\u2019 days early, t\u2019 boot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat we could of it,\u201d Arch said, as he and Dan brought their horses to a halt. \u201cThe damage was more than we thought. We only had enough supplies to repair half of what got knocked down.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe came back to fetch the supplies we need to finish,\u201d Dan added.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you boys g\u2019won home t\u2019 your wives, \u2018n sit down t\u2019 a decent meal,\u201d Hoss said. \u201cAfter y\u2019 finish, come back \u2018n get whatever y\u2019 need, then start out again fresh tomorrow mornin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, Hoss,\u201d Arch murmured gratefully.<\/p>\n \u201cMe, too,\u201d Dan replied with a grin.<\/p>\n \u201cSay . . . what happened t\u2019 Eddie?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . dunno, Hoss,\u201d Arch replied. \u201cHe just up \u2018n quit.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss frowned. \u201cHe quit?!\u201d he echoed, incredulous. \u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDay before yesterday,\u201d Arch replied, shaking his head in complete bewilderment. \u201cWhen we reached the road? Eddie turned the other way . . . toward town. Dan \u2018n me started joshin\u2019 him about it, and . . . well, he got real uppity like, \u2018n told me he was sick \u2018n tired o\u2019 workin\u2019 so blamed hard. We had words, Hoss. I tried t\u2019 keep my temper, but . . . . \u201d He shrugged helplessly. \u201cThe upshot of the whole thing is, Eddie finally told Dan \u2018n me t\u2019 tell your pa that he quit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe was just joshin\u2019 him, Hoss . . . about goin\u2019 the wrong way,\u201d Dan said, very much on the defensive. \u201cHe never got mad before. He\u2019d either laugh it off, or say somethin\u2019 smart back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAny idea what DID set him off?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Arch glumly shook his head. \u201cIt just happened right outta the clear blue.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you worry none about it, Arch,\u201d Hoss said kindly.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll tell your pa?\u201d Arch queried.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. I\u2019ll tell him. Now you boys g\u2019won home, \u2018n get some decent food in ya.\u201d<\/p>\n The two men nodded, then climbed back into their saddles.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben, meanwhile, made his way back toward the sheriff\u2019s office, where he had left Big Buck tethered to a hitching post, with a heavy heart. A friend of Roy\u2019s checking on the Pinkerton Agency . . . the sheriff over in Carson City asking questions at all the livery stables and places of lodging . . . and now the wire he had just dispatched to the mother of the Zachary Hilliard, Paris McKenna\u2019s brother knew . . . he felt as if he were desperately grasping at straws.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and very flimsy straws at that,<\/em>\u201d he groused silently.<\/p>\n He had just gotten through talking with Tony Grainger . . . again.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, Mister Cartwright,\u201d the young man said before he had a chance to ask the first question, shaking his head apologetically. \u201cMister Hilliard\u2019s STILL not returned that rig, and . . . truth t\u2019 tell? I\u2019m gettin\u2019 a mite worried, seein\u2019 as t\u2019 how it\u2019s been four days now . . . \u2018n he only told me he was gonna rent that horse \u2018n buggy for ONE day.\u201d<\/p>\n . . . and with poor Stacy at home, chomping impatiently at the bit, the last four days seemed like four YEARS. Not that he could entirely blame the girl . . . .<\/p>\n Then, for one brief, almost reckless moment, Ben allowed himself to consider the possibility that Zachary Hilliard had found the answers he sought, whatever they were, and had simply moved on. He hoped this to be the case with every fiber of his being, for the sake of the free and independent spirit he knew and loved as his daughter, Stacy. Yet, despite his desperate hopes and desires, every instinct he possessed warned him loud and clear that Zachary Hilliard remained somewhere close by, just out of sight.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere?\u201d Ben silently demanded, raising his eyes upward, toward the heavens. By all appearances, the man had vanished right off the face of the Earth as if he had never been.<\/p>\n As he turned, with the intention of crossing the street, Ben collided with a gray haired man, with posture slightly stooped, dressed in a pair of ragged flannel slacks, and a white linen shirt now yellowed in the front, due to age and countless exposures to the sun.<\/p>\n \u201cY-You alright, Mister?\u201d Ben asked, his dark eyes round with alarm, as he reached out to steady the man\u2019s precarious balance.<\/p>\n \u201cNone t\u2019 worse for wear,\u201d the man mumbled.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m terribly sorry,\u201d Ben apologized. \u201cI\u2019m afraid I wasn\u2019t paying real close attention to where I was going.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMust have a lot on your mind, Mister Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben frowned. \u201cDo I know you, Sir?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe . . . ummm, ain\u2019t met, not formal like, but I\u2019ve heard a lot about ya. Seems most everyone \u2018round here knows t\u2019 Cartwrights.\u201d Had the man been speaking just a tad bit faster, he would have been babbling. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and upon opening his eyes once again, he held out his hand. \u201cM\u2019 name\u2019s Bill Taylor.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben and the man, who had just introduced himself as Bill Taylor, shook hands. \u201cPleased to meet you, Mister Taylor, and again . . . please accept my apologies for nearly running you over.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018S ok, Mister Cartwright . . . no harm done,\u201d the gray haired man said, with an ingratiating smile, that fell very far short of reaching his eyes.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHey! Is dinner ready yet?\u201d Joe Cartwright called out, as he stepped through the front door.<\/p>\n \u201cDinner ready,\u201d Hop Sing said tersely, as he sauntered into the great room. \u201cMister Hoss, Miss Stacy, Miss Paris all at table. Little Joe, g\u2019won in kitchen, wash up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t hafta tell ME twice,\u201d Joe quipped as he beat a straight path toward the kitchen. \u201cI\u2019m about ready to keel over from starvation!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Kid?\u201d Joe paused, en route toward the kitchen.<\/p>\n \u201cYou didn\u2019t happen to run into Pa along the road . . . did you?\u201d Stacy asked, her voice edged with a small measure of trepidation.<\/p>\n Joe frowned. \u201cPa\u2019s not here?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Hoss replied, shaking his head. \u201cHe went into town.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe did?! I was under the impression he was gonna stick close to home today,\u201d Joe said.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s MY doing I\u2019m afraid,\u201d Paris said quietly. \u201cThis morning, after breakfast, I remembered the name of Zachary Hilliard\u2019s mother . . . that is . . . the Zachary Hilliard my brother knows . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa went into town t\u2019 send a wire askin\u2019 the lady if she knows what her son\u2019s up to these days,\u201d Hoss explained. \u201cI kinda thought he\u2019d be back by now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cKnowing Pa, he probably figured since he was in town anyway, he might as well check with Tony about the rig Zachary Hilliard rented from him a few days ago, and Sheriff Coffee about the wires he sent to his friend, Judd Something-Or-Other, and the sheriff over in Carson City,\u201d Joe speculated. \u201cYou know how Tony is sometimes, Hoss . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat li\u2019l rascal can talk the ears right off your head, if he\u2019s of a mind,\u201d Hoss replied, rolling his eyes heavenward.<\/p>\n \u201cAfter he got through talking to Tony, he probably saw that the hour was getting late, and decided to eat in town,\u201d Joe said.<\/p>\n \u201cThen you . . . you don\u2019t think it\u2019s . . . that it\u2019s MY fault?\u201d Stacy ventured, half afraid to ask that question, yet more afraid not to ask.<\/p>\n \u201cYOUR fault?!\u201d Joe echoed, incredulous.<\/p>\n \u201cNow where in the world would ya get an idea like that, Li\u2019l Sister?\u201d Hoss gently probed.<\/p>\n \u201cI guess \u2018cause I . . . ummm . . . I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve EVER seen Pa get so mad as he did at me this morning,\u201d Stacy said ruefully.<\/p>\n \u201cI have,\u201d Joe said with a big grin.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have?! Really?\u201d Stacy queried dubiously.<\/p>\n \u201cYep,\u201d Joe affirmed, with an emphatic nod of his head.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did YOU do to make Pa so mad?\u201d Stacy asked, intrigued in the midst of her own trepidation and remorse.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss and I robbed a bank,\u201d Joe replied.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re joshin\u2019!\u201d Stacy accused, outraged and deeply offended that Joe would make fun of her.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m NOT kidding, Stace!\u201d Joe immediately replied, upon seeing the hurt, angry look on her face. \u201cHonest! I\u2019m telling you the pure, unvarnished truth. Hoss . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s tellin\u2019 ya the pure, unvarnished truth alright, Li\u2019l Sister,\u201d Hoss confirmed with an agonized grimace.<\/p>\n \u201cR-Really?\u201d Stacy queried, looking over at Hoss, then back to Joe.<\/p>\n \u201cReally!\u201d Hoss replied.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and to say that Pa was real mad at Hoss and me would be to grossly understate the case,\u201d Joe said soberly.<\/p>\n \u201cBetween that wiry li\u2019l fella \u2018n Pa . . . . \u201d Hoss grimaced again and wryly rolled his eyes heavenward.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . neither one of us could move too well or sit down for a good month of Sundays at least . . . maybe even TWO,\u201d Joe groaned.<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno, Li\u2019l Brother,\u201d Hoss murmured softly. \u201cI\u2019m thinkin\u2019 it was more like three or four months o\u2019 Sundays . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe, ummm Mighty Ponderosa\u2019s never been quite the same since,\u201d Joe said, his face contorting with agony, all too well remembered.<\/p>\n \u201cMine, neither!\u201d Hoss quipped, his own face mirroring the exquisite pain and suffering reflected with crystal clarity in Joe\u2019s.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy did you guys rob the bank?\u201d Stacy demanded, as the trepidation, guilt, and remorse she had been nursing since that angry confrontation with Pa earlier, momentarily gave way to her curious, inquisitive nature. \u201cAnd who\u2019s the wiry fella? Was he an accomplice or something?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBoy! If you aren\u2019t the nosiest— \u201d Joe began, heartened to see his young sister\u2019s mood lifting.<\/p>\n \u201cDoes that mean you\u2019re not gonna tell me?!\u201d Stacy demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cSome things are best forgot, Li\u2019l Sister,\u201d Hoss gamely pointed out.<\/p>\n \u201cYep,\u201d Joe immediately responded, his head slowly bobbing up and down. \u201cYep! Sometimes, it\u2019s best just to let sleeping dogs lie.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHoss . . . Joe . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Miss Paris?\u201d Joe responded.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you two don\u2019t go back to the beginning of this tale right now, this very instant . . . \u2018n tell it straight through to the end . . . I swear . . . by all that I hold holy, I SWEAR . . . I\u2019m gonna tan both your hides and nail \u2018em right there over the fireplace mantle,\u201d Paris adamantly vowed.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . uhhh, Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI, ummm . . . think she means it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe means it all right,\u201d Stacy said very solemnly.<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d Joe said, grinning from ear-to-ear. \u201cI guess it all started the day Pa \u2018n Adam had to go away on business . . . and left ME in charge of running things while they were gone . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . which meant I ended up doin\u2019 all the dirty work!\u201d Hoss growled, leveling a ferocious glare over at his younger brother.<\/p>\n \u201cAww . . . come ON, Hoss . . . a few chores,\u201d Joe immediately countered, with a dismissive wave of his hand. \u201cJust a few light, easy chores— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . like puttin\u2019 three coats . . . count \u2018em, THREE! . . . o\u2019 whitewash on t\u2019 smoke house . . . the, ummm . . . . \u201d Hoss\u2019 face suddenly turned beet red.<\/p>\n \u201cI did NOT have you whitewash, ummm . . . THAT!\u201d Joe defended himself in tones of mock outrage, his own face flushed pinker than usual as his eyes strayed over toward their houseguest.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, yes you did, Li\u2019l Brother.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did NOT!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI remember it just as clear as . . . as if it happened yesterday!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen your memory\u2019s faulty, Big Brother!\u201d Joe declared with an emphatic nod of his head.<\/p>\n \u201cYou callin\u2019 me a liar?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . uhh . . . Boys . . . . \u201d Paris interjected the minute she was able to get in a word edgewise, \u201cwhy don\u2019t you begin with the bank robbery?\u201d Though she tried hard to project a decorous prim and proper demeanor, she simply could not keep the amused smile from her lips.<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . I guess the whole thing REALLY got started when I went to the telegraph office to wire a man about a bull,\u201d Joe once again took up the reins of the story . . . .<\/p>\n The boys gave their young sister and house guest a wry, humorous account of all that had transpired the day they robbed the Virginia City Branch of Harrison\u2019s Bank. [10]<\/p>\n Stacy laughed until her sides ached, nearly upsetting her chair a couple of times. Every time her laughter began to diminish, Joe would burst into a fit of the giggles, setting her off once again. As the story neared its conclusion, she was nearly doubled over, with her arms wrapped tight around her sides.<\/p>\n \u201cSo you . . . y-you caught the men who robbed YOU . . . recovered the money, and . . . and s-saw that it was returned to the . . . the depositors . . . . \u201d Paris laughed, as she wiped the tears borne of her merriment from her eyes and cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cPa and Adam actually returned the money to the bank and saw that it was returned to the depositors,\u201d Joe confessed. \u201cI sure wish we could\u2019ve seen the look on ol\u2019 man Harrison\u2019s face though . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Hoss agreed with a wistful smile. \u201cFrom what Adam told us . . . he was fit t\u2019 be tied.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy DIDN\u2019T you guys get to see Mister Harrison\u2019s face?\u201d Stacy asked, as her mirth finally began to subside.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid there way one tiny loose end Hoss and I had to tie up,\u201d Joe replied.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. We had to return the mules we, ummm borrowed,\u201d Hoss explained, wincing at the memory.<\/p>\n \u201cAfter HE got through with us . . . we had to come home and face PA,\u201d Joe continued. \u201cTo say HE was fit to be tied was the understatement of the century!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas he . . . was he really as mad as he was this morning?\u201d Stacy ventured hesitantly.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Li\u2019l Sister . . . he was lots madder \u2018n that,\u201d Hoss said soberly.<\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally,\u201d Joe replied.<\/p>\n \u201cBut . . . why?\u201d Stacy asked. A bewildered frown creased the smooth plain of her brow. \u201cYou guys kept that greedy ol\u2019 Mister Harrison from stealing money that belonged to the folks who had it deposited in his bank. Doesn\u2019t that kinda make you heroes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I guess maybe it does,\u201d Hoss replied, \u201cbut the whole time Pa \u2018n Adam were tryin\u2019 t\u2019 find us? They didn\u2019t know WHY we did it. All THEY knew was that Joe \u2018n me robbed Harrison\u2019s Bank in Virginia City.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa \u2018n Adam were worried about Hoss \u2018n me, Kiddo,\u201d Joe continued. \u201cREAL worried.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSame as Pa\u2019s worried about YOU right now, Li\u2019l Sister,\u201d Hoss said, \u201c \u2018n sometimes . . . when folks get really worried \u2018bout someone they love very much, and they don\u2019t find \u2018em where they\u2019re s\u2019posed t\u2019 be\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike . . . me being out in the barn and . . . by the corral, instead of in the house?\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss nodded. \u201cWell . . . when that someone DOES turn up . . . alive \u2018n well . . . without a scratch on \u2018em . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . or HER,\u201d Joe added.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . a lotta times, the one doin\u2019 the worryin\u2019 ends up gettin\u2019 mad,\u201d Hoss concluded.<\/p>\n \u201cThey do?\u201d Stacy queried with a puzzled frown.<\/p>\n \u201cYep.\u201d Hoss nodded his head.<\/p>\n \u201cThat doesn\u2019t make a whole lotta sense.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Kiddo, it doesn\u2019t,\u201d Joe agreed, \u201cbut, it\u2019s the truth . . . and I\u2019ll tell ya something else.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Stacy queried in a glum tone of voice.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll betcha anything Pa\u2019s feeling every bit as bad as YOU are about that fight you two had this morning,\u201d Joe said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYep,\u201d Hoss replied. \u201cPa didn\u2019t wanna put y\u2019 on restriction . . . AND he hates like anything havin\u2019 t\u2019 keep ya on restriction . . . more, I think, than YOU hate bein\u2019 on restriction. But, he\u2019s doin\u2019 it \u2018cause he loves ya . . . and he doesn\u2019t want anything bad t\u2019 happen to ya.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, Hoss,\u201d Stacy sighed. \u201cThat\u2019s why I feel bad about getting so mad at him this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe t\u2019 next time y\u2019 feel yourself chompin\u2019 so hard at the bit, y\u2019 might try \u2018n remember that Pa wants t\u2019 protect ya because he DOES love ya . . . a whole lot,\u201d Hoss suggested.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll try,\u201d Stacy promised.<\/p>\n \u201cYou won\u2019t be on restriction forever, Kid,\u201d Joe said. \u201cI know it\u2019s taking us longer than we thought to get matters cleared up as far as this Zachary Hilliard\u2019s concerned, but we\u2019re GONNA get things resolved . . . and soon.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hope so, Grandpa. I sure hope so.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n While his family and guest sat down to their noon meal at home, Ben caught sight of a dark silhouette circling overhead within his peripheral vision, a little past the halfway point between town and the Ponderosa. He brought Buck to a complete stop, and lifted his head. It was a vulture, a carrion bird. Another dark silhouette joined the first, followed by another and yet another. They seemed to be circling above the area just up over the next rise. He urged Buck to a brisk trot, and headed over toward the spot directly below the ominous circling birds.<\/p>\n In the field beyond the rise, lying amid the tall grass several yards from the road, was the body of a man, lying on his stomach with his wrists bound together behind his back. Ben quickly dismounted to investigate. The man had been shot once in the back, and again in the head. Ben leaned closer for a look at the man\u2019s face, profiled against the patches of grass and soil. He was astonished to discover that the dead man was Eddie Jones, a drifter he had hired a couple of months ago.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben straightened upon hearing his name, turned, and glanced back toward the road. It was Candy.<\/p>\n \u201cTrouble?\u201d Candy queried, and he climbed down off of Thor\u2019s back.<\/p>\n \u201cYou might say that,\u201d Ben said wryly.<\/p>\n Candy silently walked through the grass, leading his horse behind him. Upon reaching Ben\u2019s side, he stood, gazing down at the body for a long moment. \u201cIf I didn\u2019t know better . . . I\u2019d say that was Eddie Jones,\u201d the junior foreman murmured softly.<\/p>\n \u201cIt is,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat—?!\u201d Candy favored his employer with a puzzled frown. \u201cH-How can that be?\u201d he demanded. \u201cDidn\u2019t Eddie ride out with Arch and Dan . . . what? Day before yesterday?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was supposed to,\u201d Ben said grimly.<\/p>\n \u201cThen . . . what\u2019s he doing HERE?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d like to know the answer to that one myself,\u201d Ben replied. He knelt down for a closer look at the dead man.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was shot twice,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cOnce in the back . . . there . . . . \u201d He pointed to a wound to the left of the spinal column, just under the rib cage. \u201c . . . and again there . . . in the back if his head.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThink, maybe he was bushwhacked?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know what else it could have been,\u201d Ben replied, as he carefully reached into the dead man\u2019s back pocket and slipped out his billfold.<\/p>\n \u201cSeems to me that whoever killed him, went out of his way to make sure he was dead,\u201d Candy remarked, as he quietly moved in behind his employer.<\/p>\n Ben opened the wallet, and glanced through its contents, while Candy silently studied the dead man lying in the grass before them. He found a faded picture of a young woman and a girl, with names and a date, barely legible, inscribed on the back, along with a thick wad of paper money. \u201cWhoever bushwhacked him wasn\u2019t after money,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cThere\u2019s got to be at least a hundred dollars here . . . if not more.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat would more than likely be a month\u2019s pay he won from me and a couple of the other guys in a poker game the night Joe and I got back from Carson City,\u201d Candy said.<\/p>\n \u201cIf THAT\u2019S so, I\u2019d say Eddie Jones was remarkably lucky that night,\u201d Ben observed wryly. \u201cHe . . . WAS . . . lucky that night?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you\u2019re asking whether or not he was cheating, the answer\u2019s no.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and no one accused him of it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir,\u201d Candy replied, \u201cnot while I was around to hear anyway . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Ben handed the billfold over to Candy, then set himself to the grim task of searching Eddie Jones\u2019 other pockets. He found a comb, with half its teeth missing in the other back pocket, along with a quarter, two pennies, a nickel, and a lucky rabbit\u2019s foot in the left hand pocket of his pants. \u201cCandy,\u201d he said, as he placed the items into his junior foreman\u2019s large, well-muscled hands, \u201cyou\u2019d better ride back to the Ponderosa and get the buckboard. I\u2019ll stay here and make sure our fine-feathered friends . . . . \u201d He glanced upward toward the still circling vultures, \u201c . . . don\u2019t make a meal of Eddie Jones\u2019 body.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Candy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWill you be all right here . . . by yourself?\u201d Candy asked with an anxious frown. \u201cThe man who killed Eddie Jones may not be far off.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shook his head. \u201cI don\u2019t think so . . . . \u201d he said complacently.<\/p>\n \u201cHow can you be so sure?\u201d Candy demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cFirst off, Eddie\u2019s been here . . . ohh, I\u2019d say at least the better part of a day . . . maybe a day and a half,\u201d Ben said. \u201cWhoever killed him doesn\u2019t have to be overly bright to realize that it\u2019s in his best interest to head west to California or toward the south east for Arizona, Texas, or even Mexico.\u201d He paused briefly, then added, \u201cI\u2019ll be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure?\u201d Candy queried dubiously.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sure. Now get on with ya. The sooner you leave, the sooner you\u2019ll get back here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cWhat is your full name, Stacy?\u201d Paris asked, as she sliced, with relish, into the large, tender slab of roast beef dominating the better portion of her plate.<\/p>\n \u201cStacy Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, no, no, no,\u201d Joe said, wagging his head back and forth with each no. His eyes, deep emerald green in the natural light shining in through the dining room window, sparkled with mischief. \u201cMiss Paris asked for your FULL name, Kiddo. Full name means first, MIDDLE, and last.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy grimaced. \u201cMiss Paris, do I HAVE to tell you what my middle name is?\u201d<\/p>\n Paris couldn\u2019t help but smile at the farcical look of disgust on the girl\u2019s face. \u201cNo, you don\u2019t have to tell me,\u201d she said. \u201cThat bad, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, if STACY doesn\u2019t tell you, Miss Paris, I sure will,\u201d Joe threatened with a devilish grin.<\/p>\n \u201cYou do, and you\u2019ll get a face full of mashed potatoes,\u201d Stacy vowed, as she scooped up a generous portion with her spoon.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . . and YOU\u2019LL get a face full of peas, comin\u2019 right back atcha!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDadburn it, is that how the pair of ya\u2019s been taught to act when we have company?\u201d Hoss growled, glaring at Joe first, then Stacy.<\/p>\n \u201cHE started it!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cME?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, YOU!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhoa! Back up a minute, Little Sister! As I recall, YOU were the one who threatened to hurl that spoonful of mashed potatoes in my face FIRST.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t care which one o\u2019 ya started it, if ya don\u2019t knock it off, I\u2019M gonna finish it,\u201d Hoss declared, \u201cin the horse trough out front.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, PA!\u201d Joe and Stacy chorused in unison, their eyes dancing with mischief.<\/p>\n Through out the exchange between Stacy and Joe, Paris laughed uproariously. \u201cPlease, Eric . . . . \u201d she said, as her mirth began to fade, \u201cplease, don\u2019t hold them back on MY account.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI ain\u2019t holdin\u2019 \u2018em back on YOUR account, Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss said grimly. \u201cI\u2019m holdin\u2019 \u2018em back, on account o\u2019 Hop Sing sayin\u2019 he\u2019d quit right on the spot if he had t\u2019 clean up after one more food fight between the two babies o\u2019 the family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh dear! We certainly can\u2019t have THAT,\u201d Paris agreed.<\/p>\n Stacy sighed. \u201cI guess I may as well tell you what my whole name is.\u201d She reluctantly surrendered to the inevitable. \u201cIt\u2019s Stacy Louise Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI prefer to pronounce it Stacy LOO\u2014 \u201d Joe began.<\/p>\n The blood drained right out of Paris\u2019 face taking with it what little color she had so recently regained. She stared over at Stacy through eyes round with shocked horror.<\/p>\n \u201cM-Miss Paris?!\u201d Joe stammered, half afraid the woman was going to faint right there on the spot.<\/p>\n \u201cI-I\u2019ll be alright in a moment,\u201d Paris said, her head reeling. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take deep, even breaths.<\/p>\n \u201cI-I hope it wasn\u2019t something I said,\u201d Stacy murmured contritely, her face a twin mask to the horrified look on Paris\u2019.<\/p>\n \u201cStacy . . . m-my mother\u2019s name was also . . . Stacy . . . L-Louise,\u201d Paris said, her voice trembling.<\/p>\n Stacy suddenly felt light headed, and very frightened.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Kiddo, YOU alright?\u201d Joe queried anxiously, noting the sudden lack of robust color in her face and cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . NO!\u201d She shook her head. \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss slid his untouched glass of water over in front of his young sister. \u201cTake a swallow o\u2019 that, Li\u2019l Sister,\u201d he ordered in a gentle, yet firm tone.<\/p>\n Stacy seized hold of the glass tightly in both hands and raised it to her lips.<\/p>\n \u201cTake it easy,\u201d Hoss murmured quietly. \u201cDon\u2019t gulp. Sip . . . nice \u2018n easy.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy took one more sip from the glass, then turned to face Paris. \u201cWhen I . . . when I reached the tribe of Chief Soaring Eagle?\u201d she began haltingly. \u201cI had one thing from my life before. A small heart shaped locket on a gold chain. It was made for a-a child. My name . . . Stacy Louise . . . was etched on the front.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris remembered seeing a similar locket tucked away inside a simple rough-hewn wood jewelry box, that held her mother\u2019s meager possessions. They were treasured keepsakes of the life she had led before her marriage to Gerald McKenna and subsequent rejection, total and complete, by her family. None of the pieces had any monetary value. Their worth derived from the memories each piece invoked. Among the treasures was a heart shaped locket, with Stacy Louise, her mother\u2019s name, engraved on its front.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s the only reason anyone even knew my name,\u201d Stacy continued. \u201cWhen Silver Moon found me, I couldn\u2019t remember anything. Who I was, where I\u2019d come from, who my ma and pa were. I was like a slate, with the first five years of my life erased.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStacy, do you still have that locket?\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy nodded. \u201cI keep it in what Silver Moon called a medicine bag up in my room,\u201d she replied. \u201cI also have keepsakes of my foster parents, Silver Moon and Jon Running Deer; my grandfather, Chief Soaring Eagle; and Running Antelope, my blood brother. I . . . I don\u2019t like looking in the bag very much, though . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Paris, seeing the girl was on the edge of tears, reached across the table and gave her hand a gentle, affectionate squeeze. \u201cNow I\u2019m the one who\u2019s made YOU sad,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018S ok, Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy said in a small, tremulous voice. \u201cI . . . I know you didn\u2019t mean to . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n A strained silence fell upon the four seated at the table. The sound of a single horse entering the yard, followed a few moments later by a loud, insistent pounding on the door mercifully broke the silence.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll go,\u201d Hoss said, rising. He strode briskly toward the front door, pausing briefly at the credenza to remove his revolver from its holster. \u201cWho is it?\u201d he asked, as he cautiously stepped over in front of the door.<\/p>\n \u201cCandy.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss opened the door and gestured for the junior foreman to enter. \u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour father found Eddie Jones by the side of the road,\u201d Candy said tersely. \u201cHe\u2019s dead, Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDead?!\u201d Hoss echoed, incredulous.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat in the world is he doing lying dead along the road to town?!\u201d Joe demanded, with a bewildered frown, as he moved from the dining room into the great room. \u201cHoss, didn\u2019t Eddie go with Arch and Dan\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was supposed to, but didn\u2019t,\u201d Hoss said grimly. \u201cSeems he just up \u2018n quit the day the three of \u2018em left. Arch \u2018n Dan stopped by \u2018n told me just before we sat down t\u2019 dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe just up \u2018n quit . . . like that . . . right out of the clear blue?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll tell ya what I know later, Joe,\u201d Hoss said, before returning his attention back to Candy. \u201cWhere\u2019s Eddie \u2018n Pa now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOut in that field \u2018bout half way between here and town,\u201d Candy replied. \u201cYour father sent me after the buckboard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m comin\u2019 with ya,\u201d Hoss decided. He turned to his younger brother, now standing at his elbow. \u201cYou stay here \u2018n keep an eye on things?\u201d His eyes momentarily darted over in Stacy\u2019s general direction.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Joe replied.<\/p>\n \u201cCandy, I\u2019ll get Mitch \u2018n Bobby t\u2019 help me with gettin\u2019 the horses hitched to the buckboard,\u201d Hoss said as he turned to grab his hat and gun belt. \u201cMeantime, you g\u2019won in the bunkhouse \u2018n gather up Eddie\u2019s things. Sheriff Coffee\u2019ll wanna have a look at \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n Candy nodded curtly, then set off toward the bunkhouse.<\/p>\n Joe, meanwhile, returned to the dining room table, where Paris and Stacy still remained.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Kid?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d Stacy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . for starters, I just found out why Pa didn\u2019t make it home in time for dinner,\u201d Joe replied.<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah? Why?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt seems he found one of our men lying dead out in the field half way between here and town,\u201d Joe said, as he returned to his place at the table.<\/p>\n \u201cD-Dead?\u201d Stacy echoed, her voice barely audible.<\/p>\n Joe nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cWhich one?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEddie Jones,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cYou know . . . the big guy who\u2019s been working in the horse corral with us?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah . . . . \u201d Stacy murmured softly, then glanced up. \u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Stace?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019d he die . . . exactly?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeems somebody bushwhacked him,\u201d Joe replied.<\/p>\n \u201cBushwhacked him?!\u201d Stacy echoed with a bewildered frowned. \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno, Kid. We\u2019ll just have to wait until Pa and Hoss get home to find out.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201c . . . then I looked up and saw vultures circling over that big meadow, half way between here and the Ponderosa,\u201d Ben wearily recounted in the Virginia City sheriff\u2019s office two hours later. \u201cI thought it was an animal at first. I wanted to see whether or not it was one of ours, so I walked over to the spot below the vultures and . . . THAT\u2019S where I found Eddie Jones\u2019 body.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy dutifully wrote down everything Ben had just told him, then turned to the ponderosa\u2019s junior foreman. \u201cHow \u2018bout YOU, Candy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI had the afternoon off, so I decided to ride out to Dressler\u2019s Pond,\u201d Candy replied. \u201cSometimes I\u2019ll get a hankerin\u2019 for trout and go fishing, but today, I was going for the peace and quiet. I was on my way out there when I saw the vultures, then saw Mister Cartwright in the field right below them. I was just as surprised as he was to see Eddie lying there.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy quickly made note of what Candy had just told him, then set his pencil aside. \u201cBen . . . Candy . . . \u2018n you, too, Hoss!\u201d he said curtly, glaring at each of the three men seated before him. \u201cI gotta ask this next question . . . for the record, y\u2019 understand, and I\u2019d really appreciate it if\u2019n ya wouldn\u2019t take m\u2019 head off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, Roy,\u201d Ben warily promised, speaking for his son and junior foreman as well.<\/p>\n \u201cBen . . . Candy . . . Hoss . . . did YOU kill Eddie Jones?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben said evenly.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss? Candy? I need ya t\u2019 answer for yourselves,\u201d Roy prompted when no answers were forthcoming from the two younger men.<\/p>\n \u201cNo. I did NOT kill Eddie Jones,\u201d Candy replied through clenched teeth, outraged, even though he knew the sheriff had spoken rightly about having to ask.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir,\u201d Hoss replied to the question, with a curt wag of his head for emphasis.<\/p>\n \u201cAll right . . . next obvious question . . . do the three of ya know of anyone who might\u2019ve wanted Eddie dead?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t think of anyone,\u201d Candy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cNor can I,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n Hoss merely shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cBen, when I came out t\u2019 the Ponderosa t\u2019 question the men workin\u2019 in the corral the day someone tampered with Stacy\u2019s saddle, you told me Eddie\u2019d gone out to the north pasture with a couple o\u2019 other men t\u2019 repair the fence that got knocked down by all the heavy snow we had last winter,\u201d Roy said. \u201cThat right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s clear Eddie didn\u2019t go,\u201d Roy wryly stated the blatantly obvious. \u201cYou got any idea as t\u2019 why?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cThat\u2019s why Candy and I were so surprised to find him lying there dead. Up until then, I had no idea in the world that Eddie DIDN\u2019T go.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe other two men he went with— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cArch Campbell and Dan Eberhardt,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen do ya expect \u2018em back?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re back,\u201d Hoss said.<\/p>\n \u201cArch and Dan?\u201d Ben queried, astonished.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir. They came back just as we were sitting down t\u2019 have dinner,\u201d Hoss explained. \u201cSeems there was more fence knocked down \u2018n torn up than we thought. They fixed what they could, then came back t\u2019 get more supplies.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid THEY tell ya why Eddie Jones wasn\u2019t with \u2018em?\u201d Roy asked, turning expectantly toward Hoss.<\/p>\n \u201cYep,\u201d Hoss replied. \u201cThey told me he just up \u2018n quit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe quit?!\u201d Ben echoed, staring over at his big middle son with a look that clearly questioned the existence of Hoss\u2019 sanity.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Hoss replied.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d Ben demanded.<\/p>\n Hoss told his father, the junior foreman, and the sheriff about the incident that, according to Arch and Dan, had led to Eddie\u2019s angry resignation.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t believe it!\u201d Ben exclaimed, wagging his head back and forth slowly.<\/p>\n \u201cWHAT don\u2019t ya believe, Ben?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cThis business of Eddie quitting because he\u2019s tired of workin\u2019 so hard,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cHe was, as ALL of ya know, a great, big, strong, healthy ox of a man, who did the work of THREE men without so much as breaking a sweat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d Hoss agreed, \u201c . . . \u2018n more often than not, he\u2019d pitch right in \u2018n help the others after he got done what he was s\u2019posed t\u2019 for the day. No one ever asked him to, either.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow well did Eddie get along with Arch \u2018n Dan?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cRoy!\u201d Ben exclaimed, surprised and outraged. \u201cYou\u2019re not accusing THEM of—?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Ben, I ain\u2019t. Leastwise, not right now,\u201d Roy replied. \u201cBut you think about it a minute. If Arch \u2018n Dan AIN\u2019T the very last men t\u2019 see Eddie Jones alive \u2018n kickin\u2019, then they NUMBER among the very last. \u2018N takin\u2019 into account how li\u2019l traveled that road leadin\u2019 away from your house \u2018n barn, is . . . Arch \u2018n Dan had damn near all the opportunity in the world t\u2019 kill Eddie before they reached the road, if\u2019n they was of a mind t\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRoy, first off Arch \u2018n Dan had no reason t\u2019 wanna kill Eddie,\u201d Hoss said very quietly, \u201cespecially Arch.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy \u2018especially Arch,\u2019 Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou remember when Arch \u2018n Mary\u2019s li\u2019l gal died?\u201d<\/p>\n Roy slowly nodded his head. \u201cYeah, Hoss,\u201d he murmured somberly. \u201cI remember.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . it was a week or so after Eddie came t\u2019 work for us,\u201d Hoss continued. \u201cArch\u2019d gotten Amy a li\u2019l pony and was just startin\u2019 t\u2019 teach her how t\u2019 ride.\u201d<\/p>\n The darksome magic worked by Hoss\u2019 words transported Ben away from the sheriff\u2019s office, away from present time and place, back to the Ponderosa two months prior. Arch Campbell had given in to his daughter\u2019s demands that she be taught how to ride, over and above the vehement protestations of his wife, Mary, who insisted the girl was too young.<\/p>\n Ben saw Amy Campbell again, every bit as clear and as vivid as he had seen her that day . . . . \u201cRACE YA, PAPA!\u201d she all of a sudden cried out, her voice filled with the same wild joyful abandon he had heard many times before in the voices of his youngest son, Joe, and Marie, his late third wife and mother of that headstrong, impulsive youngest son.<\/p>\n Before Arch or Ben himself realized what was happening, Amy had spurred Flower, from a brisk trot to a fast gallop, the instant she and her father had come into view from around the backside of the barn. Ben remembered opening his mouth to warn Amy to slow down, but before he could give utterance to those words, the child was dead, killed instantly when Flower stepped into a deep chuckhole and stumbled, breaking his leg in three places.<\/p>\n The child never even had time to scream.<\/p>\n Arch, his face pale and eyes round and staring, shuffled woodenly across the dozen or so feet between him and his daughter. With a surprising, yet dreadful calm, he slipped his revolver from its holster and put poor Flower out of his misery, then hefted Amy\u2019s remains gently into his arms and rode off without speaking, without stopping or looking back.<\/p>\n In the days that followed, Ben and his family had done all they could, were STILL doing all they could to offer what comfort and support they could to the bereaved Campbell family, but, oddly given the man\u2019s reclusive nature, it was to Eddie Jones they turned to the most for much needed comfort and strength. He would never, not if he lived to be a hundred, forget the sight of Eddie, standing before Amy\u2019s open grave along side her anguished parents, with tears streaming down his face. Roy\u2019s quiet, yet succinct prodding, brought Ben back to present time and place.<\/p>\n \u201cY\u2019 all right, Pa?\u201d Hoss asked, favoring his father with an anxious frown.<\/p>\n \u201cFine,\u201d Ben replied, shaking his head as if to physically dislodge the last remnants of the odd vision that had seemingly risen up from out of nowhere and overtaken him so suddenly, and so completely. \u201cSorry . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018S ok,\u201d Ben,\u201d Roy said. \u201cLook. We don\u2019t hafta to do this right now, if ya ain\u2019t feelin\u2019 up to it,\u201d the sheriff kindly offered.<\/p>\n \u201cRoy, I\u2019m fine. Honest,\u201d Ben hastened to reassure. \u201cAnd if it\u2019s all the same to you, I\u2019d rather get this over and done . . . SOONER as opposed to later.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy nodded. \u201cAlright,\u201d he continued, \u201cHoss, YOU just got through tellin\u2019 me why Arch wouldn\u2019t have wanted t\u2019 kill Eddie. How \u2018bout Dan?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRoy, you know as well as I do that Dan\u2019s a real mellow, easy goin\u2019 sort o\u2019 guy,\u201d Hoss said. An amused grin tugged hard at the corner of his mouth. \u201cHe has t\u2019 be, with that li\u2019l spitfire he\u2019s married t\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n This last remark prompted a soft \u201coh brother!\u201d from Candy, accompanied by a sarcastic roll of the eyes heavenward.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy, I have trouble picturin\u2019 ol\u2019 Dan killin\u2019 a pesky housefly, let alone a man,\u201d Hoss continued.<\/p>\n \u201cI still need t\u2019 talk with the both of \u2018em,\u201d Roy said, as he finished writing down everything Hoss had just gotten through telling him about Arch Campbell and Dan Eberhardt. \u201cSo when the three of ya get home, YOU tell \u2018em t\u2019 stay put until I do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir. I\u2019ll do that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRoy, when, exactly, do you plan on coming out to talk with Arch and Dan?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be out t\u2019morrow mornin\u2019, first thing,\u201d Roy promised, \u201cif\u2019n that\u2019s alright with YOU?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTomorrow morning will be fine,\u201d Ben assented.<\/p>\n Roy took a fresh piece of paper from the bottom left hand drawer of his desk, and began a list of things to do. First thing on that list was to question Arch Campbell and Dan Eberhardt. \u201cHow well\u2019d Eddie get along with the other men workin\u2019 for ya?\u201d he asked, glancing over at Ben.<\/p>\n \u201cHe made an honest effort, I think, to get along with the other men,\u201d Ben said slowly, \u201cbut he tended to keep to himself a great deal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShy?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cAbsolutely not!\u201d It was Candy, who replied. \u201cHe had no trouble speaking up if he felt the need, but he just, plain \u2018n simply, wasn\u2019t what I\u2019d call a social butterfly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he have a buddy or two, perhaps? Someone he mighta played checkers or sat down to a game o\u2019 cards with?\u201d Roy asked. \u201cA buddy he might\u2019ve come into town with on a Saturday night?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNope,\u201d Candy replied. \u201cFor him it was lights out after he\u2019d finished his supper and cleaned up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIncludin\u2019 Saturday night?\u201d Roy queried, with eyebrow slightly up raised.<\/p>\n \u201cIncluding Saturday night,\u201d Candy said firmly.<\/p>\n \u201cChurch goin\u2019 man?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNope,\u201d Candy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cMighta been a PRAYIN\u2019 man, though,\u201d Hoss said quietly, drawing a surprised look from his father and an openly skeptical one from Candy.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do y\u2019 say THAT, Hoss?\u201d Roy asked, the looks on Ben and Candy\u2019s faces not lost on him.<\/p>\n \u201cI saw him in town the Friday after Pa paid him his wages for the first time,\u201d Hoss explained. \u201cHe was comin\u2019 outta Saint Mary\u2019s in the Mountains. I, uuhhh . . . . \u201d His cheeks flushed a slightly deeper shade of pink. \u201cAw, dang it all, maybe I shouldn\u2019t have done it, but I . . . well, I couldn\u2019t help joshin\u2019 him a little \u2018bout bein\u2019 in church \u2018n all . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019d he take it?\u201d Roy prompted when Hoss didn\u2019t immediately resume.<\/p>\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t get mad or nothin\u2019 like that,\u201d Hoss replied. \u201cHe told me he\u2019d gone in t\u2019 light a candle for someone real special.\u201d He shrugged. \u201cOnly someone special he ever mentioned was his ma, so I kinda thought he might\u2019ve lit the prayer candle for HER.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know whether or not he went t\u2019 St. Mary\u2019s t\u2019 light a prayer candle regular?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir,\u201d Hoss ruefully shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m afraid I DON\u2019T know.\u201d<\/p>\n The second item on his list of things to do was to question the priests at Saint Mary\u2019s in the Mountains. If Eddie Jones had made a regular practice of lighting a prayer candle at the church for \u201csomeone real special,\u201d one of them, at the very least, had to know about it.<\/p>\n \u201cSheriff Coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Candy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs I recall, the only time Eddie EVER went into town was the Friday after payday . . . in the morning,\u201d Candy said slowly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat for?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cFirst thing Eddie did after getting his first pay check was open a bank account,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cHe\u2019d go into town to do his own banking. He\u2019d also pick up my mail and run errands.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe tell ya what he was savin\u2019 his money for?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben said ruefully.<\/p>\n Roy added bank to his list. \u201cWas Eddie a drinkin\u2019 man?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe kept a flask of whiskey for medicinal purposes, but . . . I\u2019ll put it THIS way, Sheriff Coffee. Mister Cartwright spoke true when he said Eddie was a big, HEALTHY ox of a man,\u201d Candy said. \u201cBetween now and the date Mister Cartwright and I hired him, I can count the number of times I saw Eddie \u2018take his medicine\u2019 on one hand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYep,\u201d Hoss agreed.<\/p>\n \u201cOk, he wasn\u2019t a drinker,\u201d Roy said, as he made note of that fact. \u201cHow \u2018bout gamblin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGambling\u2019s not allowed in the bunk house, of course,\u201d Candy said very quickly, \u201cbut Eddie told me once . . . recently, in fact . . . that he\u2019d sit in on an occasional poker game if he felt lucky.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAny idea as t\u2019 how often Eddie felt lucky?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOnly one time that I know of,\u201d Candy said with a grimace.<\/p>\n \u201cWas that the game in which your month\u2019s wages ended up amongst the money I found in Eddie\u2019s wallet a little while ago?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid so, Sir,\u201d Candy said ruefully.<\/p>\n \u201cCandy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sheriff Coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis game Ben just mentioned . . . when did ya play?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe night Joe and I returned home from Carson City empty handed,\u201d Candy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cYou wanna tell me a li\u2019l more \u2018bout that night?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . after Joe and I got back, we went to Grainger\u2019s Livery to get our horses,\u201d Candy began. \u201cWe decided to stop by the Silver Dollar on the way home for a beer to wet our whistles. Eddie was there, seated at that big round table in the center of the room with a big stack of money in front of him, getting ready to deal another hand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Bout what time was that?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen Joe and I got to the Silver Dollar?\u201d<\/p>\n Roy nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . it was sometime after nine o\u2019clock when Joe and I got off the stage,\u201d Candy began. \u201cWe got our bags and walked over to Grainger\u2019s. Joe and I settled our accounts, and Tony helped us with getting our horses saddled. All in all, I\u2019d say that took twenty minutes, maybe a half hour at the very outside.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo we\u2019re lookin\u2019 at you boys leavin\u2019 Grainger\u2019s Livery somewhere between twenty minutes after nine \u2018n nine thirty,\u201d Roy said.<\/p>\n Candy nodded his head slowly. \u201cYeah,\u201d he said. \u201cYeah. That sounds about right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018N you said Eddie was there when you \u2018n Joe arrived at t\u2019 Silver Dollar?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Candy replied. \u201cJoe and I went to the bar, and stood each other a round. Then he got to talking with Lotus O\u2019Toole, and I, much to my everlasting regret, ended up in that poker game with Eddie.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho all was playin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEddie Jones and me, of course,\u201d Candy replied, \u201cDick Faraday from Miller\u2019s Folly, Bill Lomax and Leo White from the Shoshone Queen, and an old man . . . I don\u2019t recall his name.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan ya remember what this ol\u2019 man looked like?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe had this big mop of scraggly gray hair,\u201d Candy replied. \u201cHe was on the tall side, but not what I\u2019d call REAL tall . . . like Hoss here. He was more . . . I\u2019d say about YOUR height, Mister Cartwright. His clothing was old and worn, but clean, and when he stood up to leave? He stood up real straight and tall, the way people might expect of a prince, or a king, or . . . or maybe an army general.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cKinda sounds like Bill Taylor,\u201d Roy observed, as he made note of the description Candy had given of the old man.<\/p>\n \u201cBill Taylor,\u201d Candy said the same very softly. \u201cBill Taylor.\u201d Then, the light of revelation suddenly dawned. \u201cYeah. Taylor. I remember Eddie callin\u2019 him Mister Taylor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou ever see him BEFORE that poker game?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . think I\u2019ve seen him around town a couple o\u2019 times,\u201d Candy said slowly, \u201cbut I don\u2019t recall seeing him at the Silver Dollar before that night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . quite literally . . . bumped into him earlier today,\u201d Ben said. \u201cJudging from the old clothes had on, I can\u2019t for the life of me figure out where in the world he came by enough money to sit in on a poker game.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe could be one o\u2019 those eccentric ol\u2019 geezers, who keeps a small fortune stashed up under his mattress, all the while he\u2019s cryin\u2019 poor,\u201d Roy pointed out.<\/p>\n \u201cTrue,\u201d Ben had to agree. \u201cYou know anything about him, Roy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot a whole lot, I\u2019m afraid,\u201d Roy replied, \u201conly that he\u2019s old . . . doesn\u2019t get around real well . . . \u2018n he\u2019s been livin\u2019 in one o\u2019 the upstairs rooms at t\u2019 Bucket o\u2019 Blood since around t\u2019 time o\u2019 Miss McKenna\u2019s arrival.\u201d He jotted down the names of the men playing poker with Candy and Eddie Jones night before last, then once again set aside the pencil in hand. \u201cI\u2019m right in assumin\u2019 Eddie was the big winner?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Candy replied, nodding his head.<\/p>\n \u201cBen, how much money\u2019d ya find in Eddie\u2019s wallet?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t count it, Roy,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cBut, I\u2019d say it was around a hundred dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWith six men playin\u2019 after YOU joined the game, Candy, I\u2019m kinda surprised there wasn\u2019t MORE money in his wallet,\u201d Roy said.<\/p>\n \u201cWell . . . Leo had the good sense to leave the game while he still had money,\u201d Candy explained. \u201cDick\u2019s loss amounted to a bunch of I.O.U.s he won\u2019t have to cover now, and the old man . . . Mister Taylor . . . left the game after the first couple of hands.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Bout what time did the game end?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cFor ME the game ended when I ran out of money,\u201d Candy said with a wry grimace. \u201cI\u2019m afraid I can\u2019t tell you what time that was, exactly . . . only that Joe and I left the Silver Dollar right after that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid the game go on after ya left?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cEddie, Dick, and Bill Lomax were getting ready to deal another hand, when Joe and I left the Silver Dollar,\u201d Candy replied. \u201cHow long they played after that . . . . \u201d He shrugged.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere\u2019d you \u2018n Joe go after ya left the Silver Dollar?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cBack to the Ponderosa,\u201d Candy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat time did the two of ya get home that night?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . . \u201d Candy wracked his brains, trying to remember. Finally, he looked up at the lawman and simply shrugged. \u201cSorry, I can\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRoy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not quite sure exactly when Joe and Candy arrived home that night,\u201d Ben said, \u201cbut, I DO remember the clock in the great room striking the quarter hour after midnight while we were talking about their trip to Carson City.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy made note of the approximate times given. \u201cWhat about Eddie?\u201d he asked. \u201cAny idea what time HE got back that night?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d Candy shook his head. \u201cOnly thing I can tell ya for sure is . . . when I woke up the next morning, Eddie was in his bunk.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, Ben . . . what do ya know \u2018bout Eddie Jones himself?\u201d Roy continued.<\/p>\n \u201cI hired him about a month after he arrived in Virginia City,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cHe was a big, strapping man, looking for steady work, and I was shorthanded. He told me that he had spent the last year or so working on a couple of spreads in Arizona. The year before that, he worked on a spread in Texas.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou checked out his claims?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf COURSE I did!\u201d Ben replied, indignant and outraged that Roy would in any way suggest that he had somehow been negligent in his responsibilities.<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, let\u2019s start with the name o\u2019 those spreads,\u201d Roy said, taking another fresh sheet of paper from the bottom drawer.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat for?!\u201d Ben demanded.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Cause I\u2019M gonna hafta check Eddie Jones\u2019 claims, too, Ben,\u201d Roy said sharply.<\/p>\n Ben sighed. \u201cEddie worked for the Rising Sun and the Circle K in Arizona. Both are about ten . . . fifteen miles north of Tucson,\u201d he replied. \u201cIn Texas, he worked as top hand on a big spread called Bar None, located near a little town called Barclay Junction.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow well do ya know the owners?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m very well acquainted with the owners of the Circle K and Bar None,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cI\u2019ve done business with the Circle K off \u2018n on over the years, and the Texas cattle Adam and I bought and bred into OUR line came from Bar None.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen was the LAST time ya did business with Circle K \u2018n Bar None?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cLast year, I sold the owner of the Circle K a brood mare and two saddle broken cutting horses,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018N Bar None?\u201d Roy prompted.<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t done any business with Bar None since Elias died,\u201d Ben said a mite sheepishly.<\/p>\n \u201cElias?\u201d Roy echoed. \u201cHe the owner?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWAS the owner . . . and I considered him a good friend,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cElias Tanner died . . . two, maybe three years ago. I heard that his oldest son, Jack, took over the running of the ranch, but apart from sending each other Christmas cards every year . . . . \u201d He shrugged.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did the owners o\u2019 the Circle K, Bar None, \u2018n Risin\u2019 Sun hafta say \u2018bout Eddie Jones?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cAll three confirmed that Eddie did, indeed, work for \u2018em . . . AND they gave him glowing references,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n \u201cCan ya remember anything o\u2019 what they said?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPretty much the same as Candy, Hoss, and I\u2019ve already told you about Eddie.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy added sending wires to the owners of the Bar None Ranch, Barclay Junction, Texas, and the two in Arizona. \u201cDid Eddie ever say anything about family? Where he came from?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen Candy and I hired him, Eddie told us that he was born and raised in a little town somewhere in upstate New York,\u201d Ben replied, \u201cand that he\u2019d been pretty much on his own since his mother died, when he was fifteen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat all?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s all, unless . . . . \u201d Ben glanced expectantly at Hoss first, then Candy.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s never told ME any more than that,\u201d Candy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cMe, either,\u201d Hoss said.<\/p>\n \u201cAnyone ever ask?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure,\u201d Candy replied, \u201cbut he never gave a straight answer. He\u2019d grunt, then change the subject.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI kinda got the feelin\u2019 Eddie never LIKED much talkin\u2019 \u2018bout himself,\u201d Hoss added.<\/p>\n \u201cYou folks said y\u2019 collected Eddie Jones\u2019 things from t\u2019 bunkhouse \u2018n brought \u2018em with ya?\u201d Roy asked, after making note of what little Cartwrights and Candy were able to tell him about the man.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Hoss replied. He set the nearly empty duffel bag on top of the sheriff\u2019s desk. \u201cEddie didn\u2019t have much . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s see what he had,\u201d Roy said, as he rose and opened the bag. Inside, he found a brand new pair of work pants, two shirts, a pair of long johns, and undergarments that had long ago seen better days. Toiletries consisted of a shaving cup and brush; a razor, and a well-used bar of soap. There was also a pint bottle of whiskey, half empty. Roy carefully placed everything in the center of his desk, then peered once more into the bag. \u201cBen . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Roy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s some envelopes lyin\u2019 at t\u2019 bottom o\u2019 this bag,\u201d Roy said, \u201clooks like \u2018bout half dozen or so.\u201d He reached in and pulled out one. \u201cNow THIS is damn\u2019 peculiar,\u201d he muttered softly, just under his breath.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Ben demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cThis envelope\u2019s addressed t\u2019 George Edwards,\u201d Roy said.<\/p>\n \u201cGeorge Edwards?!\u201d Ben echoed, incredulous. \u201cWho the hell is George Edwards?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI dunno, Ben,\u201d Roy replied. Though he knew beyond any doubt whatsoever that he had spoken true, the voice of intuition, his mother\u2019s voice he called it, insisted loud and clear that if he didn\u2019t know that name, he should. He placed the envelope in hand down on the desk before him and reached into the open duffle bag for the remaining five, all the while wracking his brains, trying to recall when or where he had heard that name.<\/p>\n Ben, meanwhile, picked up the envelope lying on the sheriff\u2019s desk. \u201cGeorge Edwards . . . Virginia City, Nevada,\u201d he slowly read the name and address written on the face of the envelope in bold, angular script.<\/p>\n \u201cGeorge Edwards . . . George Edwards . . . George Edwards . . . George Edwards,\u201d Roy read aloud the name written on four or the remaining envelopes as he shuffled through them. \u201cThese\u2019re ALSO addressed t\u2019 Virginia City, Nevada.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about THAT one?\u201d Ben asked, pointing to the thick envelope at the very bottom of the stack Roy had just taken from Eddie\u2019s duffle bag.<\/p>\n \u201cNow THIS one\u2019s addressed t\u2019 a PRIVATE Edwards,\u201d Roy said, noting that the handwriting on this envelope was in the same bold, angular script as the others. \u201cNo address . . . must\u2019ve been hand delivered.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut . . . who in t\u2019 ever lovin\u2019 world is George Edwards?\u201d Hoss queried, with a bewildered frown. \u201c . . . \u2018n what\u2019s Eddie doin\u2019 with his mail?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t believe this . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n Roy\u2019s thoughts drifted back to the day before yesterday, when Joe had stopped by to find out whether or not there had been replies to wires sent to the New York City Police Department and the Pinkerton Agency, seeking information on Zachary Hilliard.<\/p>\n \u201cThis guy\u2019s the spittin\u2019 image of Eddie Jones . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRoy?!\u201d<\/p>\n At the sound of Ben\u2019s voice, anxious and insistent, the reverie vanished as quickly and as unexpectedly as it had come.<\/p>\n \u201cBen, I . . . think . . . I know who this George Edwards is after all . . . . \u201d Roy said slowly.<\/p>\n All of the butterflies that had been flitting about in the pit of Ben\u2019s stomach since he and Candy found Eddie Jones\u2019 body, coalesced into an ice cold lump upon seeing Roy\u2019s sickly ashen gray complexion and trembling hands.<\/p>\n \u201cCandy . . . Hoss . . . .\u201d Roy said in as steady a voice as he could possibly muster, \u201cwould one o\u2019 boys mind handin\u2019 me that stack o\u2019 papers lyin\u2019 in m\u2019 basket?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThese the ones ya want?\u201d Hoss asked, as he scooped up the half dozen wanted posters sitting on the very top.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d Roy nodded his thanks, as he accepted the wanted posters from Hoss. \u201cBen, these just come in . . . day before yesterday, a li\u2019l bit before Joe stopped by.\u201d He pulled a poster out of the middle of the stack and handed it to Ben.<\/p>\n Ben felt the blood drain right out of his face, the instant his eyes fell upon the sullen, angry face that stared out from the wanted poster. Though crudely drawn, the likeness to Eddie Jones was unmistakable. \u201cKiller for hire . . . wanted in Nevada . . . California . . . Texas, and . . . and Arizona . . . . \u201d he read aloud the information in a voice barely above that of a whisper, his dark eyes round with horror. \u201cDear God! W-Was . . . was Eddie Jones hired to . . . to KILL my daughter?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat makes no sense to me . . . no sense at all,\u201d Candy said, with a puzzled frown. \u201cWhy in the world would ANYONE want to kill a girl who was orphaned before she came to you . . . with no other family . . . no other life to speak of before she was found with the Paiutes!? It doesn\u2019t make any sense!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOver the years, I\u2019ve made almost as many enemies as I have friends,\u201d Ben said in a somber tone of voice. \u201cSome of them would have no qualms at all about killing Stacy or my sons either, for that matter . . . to get back at ME. If . . . if Eddie Jones WAS hired to kill my daughter\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow, Ben, don\u2019t you go jumpin\u2019 t\u2019 conclusions b\u2019fore— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was, Pa,\u201d Hoss said very quietly, cutting off the sheriff\u2019s stern admonition mid-sentence.<\/p>\n All eyes immediately turned to Hoss, seated next to his father in one of the hard backed chairs facing the sheriff\u2019s desk. His mouth had thinned to a near straight line, his jaw was set with the hardness of granite, and his bright blue eyes burned with raw fury.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, Hoss\u2014 \u201d Roy protested, his head reeling.<\/p>\n \u201cEddie Jones WAS hired t\u2019 kill my li\u2019l sister. Ain\u2019t no question about it. It\u2019s all right here.\u201d Hoss angrily threw the two envelopes he had in hand down onto the center of the desk.<\/p>\n Ben reached out and picked up the envelope that had landed on top. He turned it over and read the return address scrawled on the flap. \u201cThis was mailed from the Comstock Hotel in Carson City . . . a . . . a f-few days before I hired Eddie Jones,\u201d he said in a hollow voice, barely audible. \u201cCandy, isn\u2019t that—?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Candy replied. \u201cThat\u2019s the hotel where Zachary Hilliard met Mister Smith.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLemme see that, Ben,\u201d Roy said.<\/p>\n Ben silently handed Roy the envelope he held in his hand.<\/p>\n Roy slipped the single page missive out of its envelope. \u201c \u2018Private Edwards,\u2019 \u201d he slowly read aloud, \u201c \u2018 your orders: get a job working for Ben Cartwright, as soon as possible. Await further orders.\u2019 It\u2019s signed Corporal Alexander Deveraux for Lieutenant Zachary Hilliard.\u201d He paused, just long enough to slip the brief missive back into its envelope. \u201cHoss, this note don\u2019t say a blessed thing about\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRead the other one,\u201d Hoss said tersely.<\/p>\n \u201cAlright . . . . \u201d Roy placed the envelope in hand back down on his desk, and picked up the second. \u201cThis was also mailed from Carson City on . . . . \u201d He glanced up sharply. \u201c . . . the date on this looks t\u2019 be a day or two before Miss McKenna arrived.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMay I see that envelope, Roy?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n Roy nodded curtly.<\/p>\n Ben snatched the envelope out of Roy\u2019s hand and looked at the postmark date. \u201cThis was mailed three days before Paris arrived,\u201d he said grimly, before giving the envelope back to Roy.<\/p>\n Roy removed another single page letter from the envelope Ben had just given back to him. \u201c \u2018Private Edwards,\u2019 \u201d he again read aloud. \u201c \u2018Enclosed is the five hundred you asked for up front. Another thousand t\u2019 come when job\u2019s complete. Await further orders.\u2019 This one\u2019s also signed by Corporal Alexander Deveraux for Lieutenant Zachary Hilliard.\u2019 \u201d<\/p>\n As Roy read the letter, Ben\u2019s eyes strayed over to the bulky envelope, lying on the desk beside the clothing and toiletry items taken from the duffle bag that belonged to the man he knew as Eddie Jones. He picked up the envelope and lifted the flap. Inside was a thick stack of bills, in varying denominations, all upright, facing the same way. \u201cRoy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Roy Coffee cast a sharp glare over at as he slipped the letter he had just finished reading back into its envelope.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . this has to be the five hundred dollars Alexander Deveraux and Zachary Hilliard mentioned in that last letter,\u201d Ben said grimly. His face was a few shades paler than normal, and his hands were shaking.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll find \u2018em, Pa,\u201d Hoss said in a firm, resolute tone of voice. \u201cSo help me . . . we\u2019ll find \u2018em if we gotta tear this whole blamed town apart board by board.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow you just settle yourself down right now, Hoss,\u201d Roy said sharply, as he took the envelope containing the money from Ben. He closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. \u201cAlright,\u201d he said finally, laboring mightily to keep his voice calm. \u201cI gotta admit that puttin\u2019 together the instructions for Eddie . . . uhhh, George, t\u2019 get a job workin\u2019 for YOU, Ben . . . \u2018n the cut cinch on Stacy\u2019s saddle adds up t\u2019 one helluva piece o\u2019 circumstantial evidence. But, neither one o\u2019 them letters say a thing about Stacy, nor do they say anything \u2018bout doin\u2019 her harm.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sayin\u2019 you ain\u2019t gonna arrest \u2018em?!\u201d Hoss growled, the dark, angry scowl on his face deepening.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t . . . NOT for tryin\u2019 t\u2019 harm Stacy, anyway,\u201d Roy replied. \u201cNow, I CAN bring \u2018em in \u2018n question \u2018em about George Edwards\u2019 murder . . . and I will, soon as I find out where they are. But, as things stand right now, there ain\u2019t a thing here that links Alexander Deveraux \u2018n Zachary Hilliard t\u2019 Stacy\u2019s saddle.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy ELSE would they have told Eddie . . . George . . . whoever the hell he is . . . to get a job working for me?!\u201d Ben hotly demanded.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and what other reason could this Zachary Hilliard\u2019ve had for asking questions about Stacy?\u201d Candy added. \u201cI can half way understand why he might ask questions about the Cartwrights and the Ponderosa . . . but I was told most of his questions were about Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve not ruled out the possibility o\u2019 him bein\u2019 a Pinkerton man, workin\u2019 maybe for her blood kin,\u201d Roy pointed out, \u201c \u2018n I won\u2019t, \u2018til I hear somethin\u2019 back from Judd.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why would he and this Corporal Deveraux tell Eddie to get a job working for Mister Cartwright if it wasn\u2019t to spy on Stacy and the rest of the family?\u201d Candy demanded.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Cause the Ponderosa\u2019s one o\u2019 the biggest . . . if not THE biggest . . . spreads in t\u2019 whole state o\u2019 Nevada,\u201d Roy said. \u201cHell! If\u2019n I had a friend just come t\u2019 town, \u2018n I knew he was lookin\u2019 for work . . . I\u2019d send him t\u2019 see Ben first. So would a lotta folks \u2018round here \u2018cause Ben\u2019s a good man t\u2019 work for . . . \u2018n with the size o\u2019 the Ponderosa, he\u2019s mostly likely t\u2019 have work.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt would also be a real good place for a man to lie low, if he\u2019d come here with the intention of doing something illegal,\u201d Candy added.<\/p>\n \u201cIt wouldn\u2019t be t\u2019 first time, either,\u201d Hoss growled.<\/p>\n \u201cCandy . . . Hoss . . . \u2018n you, too, Ben!\u201d Roy said sternly, glaring at each man in turn. \u201cThe three of ya jumpin\u2019 t\u2019 conclusions like that, before we get enough o\u2019 the facts t\u2019gether ain\u2019t gonna help Stacy, \u2018n it sure as hell ain\u2019t gonna help me do what I gotta do.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben immediately opened his mouth to protest.<\/p>\n \u201cHear me out, Ben,\u201d Roy held up his hand, effectively silencing the tirade sitting at the very edge of Ben\u2019s tongue. \u201cWhat we got right now\u2019s like pieces uva jigsaw puzzle. They show some o\u2019 the picture . . . Alexander Deveraux \u2018n Zachary Hilliard hirin\u2019 Ed—George! t\u2019 do a job for \u2018em f\u2019r instance, or Zachary Hilliard goin\u2019 \u2018round askin\u2019 folks questions \u2018bout Stacy, but I don\u2019t have a damn thing here that connects any of \u2018em t\u2019 the cut cinch on Stacy\u2019s saddle.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re WRONG, Roy,\u201d Hoss said.<\/p>\n \u201cNow you listen t\u2019 me \u2018n you listen good, Hoss Cartwright!\u201d Roy vented, succumbing, finally, to his own rising the anger and frustration. \u201cYou ain\u2019t gonna— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRead THIS!\u201d Hoss said curtly. He handed the single page note in hand along with its accompanying envelope over to the sheriff. \u201cYou read that over real good, then tell me again what kinda connections we can make with everything we got right here.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy took the note from Hoss with a weary sigh and read it over a couple of times, very slowly.<\/p>\n \u201cWell?!\u201d Ben prompted, sparing no energy to conceal his ever-increasing impatience. \u201cCome ON, Roy . . . what does it say?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Private Edwards,\u2019 \u201d Roy read aloud through clenched teeth. \u201c \u2018The word is given. You are hereby ordered to carry out Operation Fall From Grace, at your discretion, as we agreed. Make damn sure it looks like an accident. Instructions for payment on balance due to follow, after the job is complete,\u2019 signed yet again by this Corporal Deveraux for Lieutenant Zachary Hilliard.\u2019 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs THAT proof enough for ya?\u201d Ben angrily demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cNO, Ben. It ain\u2019t!\u201d Roy returned, every bit as angry and exasperated. \u201cI wish more \u2018n anything I could say it WAS, but I can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRoy, I may not be the smartest fella in the whole wide world, but I can still see how this so called Operation Fall From Grace has gotta mean Stacy fallin\u2019 off a horse . . . \u2018cause her saddle\u2019d been tampered with,\u201d Hoss argued.<\/p>\n \u201cAlright, Hoss! YOU read that letter . . . then you tell me—NO! Dang it, you SHOW me where it says anything . . . anything at ALL . . . \u2018bout doin\u2019 Stacy harm,\u201d Roy challenged, the scowl on his face deepening.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe it don\u2019t say so in so many words— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell it\u2019s GOTTA say so in so many words,\u201d Roy rounded furiously on the middle Cartwright son, \u201cotherwise it\u2019s their word against yours.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss lapsed into a cold, stony silence.<\/p>\n \u201cAlright, Roy . . . you\u2019ve made it quite clear what you DON\u2019T have,\u201d Ben said, his voice rising slightly. \u201cHow about telling us now what the hell we DO need to prove those men tried to kill my daughter?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOur case would be a whole helluva lot stronger if we could turn up a witness or two who actually saw George Edwards cut the cinch strap o\u2019 Stacy\u2019s saddle,\u201d Roy said bluntly. \u201cBut, everyone I talked t\u2019 told me they didn\u2019t even know her saddle\u2019d been tampered with.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat ELSE do we need?\u201d Ben snapped out his next question.<\/p>\n \u201cRight now it ain\u2019t a question o\u2019 what WE need, it\u2019s a question o\u2019 what I need,\u201d Roy angrily shot right back, \u201c \u2018n what I need most right now is for the three o\u2019 YOU t\u2019 back off \u2018n let ME do m\u2019 job. That goes for Joe, too!\u201d<\/p>\n His words, and the vehemence by which he had uttered them left a stunned silence in their wake.<\/p>\n \u201cBen,\u201d he continued at length, in a calmer, more kindly tone of voice, \u201cBen, I promise ya . . . I give ya my word . . . I\u2019m gonna do everything that\u2019s in m\u2019 power t\u2019 find out who cut the cinch strap on Stacy\u2019s saddle, \u2018n whilst I\u2019m at it, I\u2019m gonna find out who killed Eddie Jones. But I\u2019m gonna do it within the bounds o\u2019 the LAW.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFine, Roy . . . you DO that!\u201d Ben growled back, as he, Hoss, and Candy slowly rose to their feet. \u201cBut you bear THIS in mind, too. I am going to do everything . . . and I do mean EVERYTHING . . . within MY power to protect my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen, I got no problem with that\u201d Roy said quietly. \u201cNone whatsoever. As her pa, I expect ya t\u2019 take whatever steps y\u2019 hafta t\u2019 keep Stacy safe. You just make damn sure y\u2019 stay within t\u2019 bounds of the law. If \u2019n you or your boys go steppin\u2019 OVER that line . . . . \u201d He let his voice trail away to an ominous, strained silence. \u201cI . . . hope we understand each other?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI understand perfectly,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cHoss . . . Candy . . . let\u2019s go home.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben, Hoss, and Candy wearily rode into the yard between the log ranch house and the barn as the silver-gray twilight began to give way to the approaching dusk. The tops of the tallest pine trees were already lost within the darkening sky above and the murky shadows of the coming night.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright?\u201d Candy ventured, as the three dismounted.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Candy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been kicking myself over and over for not saying something about this while we were in the sheriff\u2019s office,\u201d Candy said ruefully, \u201cbut . . . I didn\u2019t even think of it until we were well on our way home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have a feeling we\u2019re all going to be thinking of and remembering things we should have told the sheriff over the course of the next few days,\u201d Ben said. \u201cIf whatever\u2019s on your mind now turns out to be something important, we can ride into town and tell Roy tomorrow morning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure thing,\u201d Hoss agreed.<\/p>\n Candy sighed. \u201cIt MAY be important . . . then again it may be just a case of my overactive imagination looking for plots against you and the rest of your family behind every tree and under every rock,\u201d he said, \u201cbut . . . try as I might, I keep coming back to the military element in all this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMilitary element?\u201d Hoss echoed. \u201cWhaddya mean, Candy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe way those men referred to themselves by army rank in the letters they wrote to Eddie . . . George . . . whoever he really was, for instance, and the wording of those letters—\u201d Candy explained.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . like military orders!\u201d Ben suddenly realized.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Candy agreed, then continued, \u201cand the way we found Ed—the body! . . . with his hands tied behind him, and the gunshot wound to the head . . . if memory serves, that\u2019s how the Army carries out executions on the field, during the course of a battle or immediately after.\u201d He paused briefly. \u201cNow I could be \u2018way off the mark here, but still . . . I can\u2019t help but wonder . . . is it possible these guys are army buddies?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course . . . . \u201d Ben responded softly, his voice barely above the decibel of a whisper. \u201cCurse me for a fool, I should have realized . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Hoss frowned. \u201cCandy . . . Pa . . . . \u201d he ventured, looking from one to the other, \u201cwhat makes ya think those men might be army buddies?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not uncommon for men who have served in the army or other branches of the military, to answer to the last rank they held,\u201d Ben explained, \u201cthough I\u2019d always thought that applied to men who had achieved the rank of captain or higher.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo did I,\u201d Candy admitted.<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . \u2018n you, too, Candy . . . had either one o\u2019 ya ever heard o\u2019 Eddie Jones . . . or George Edwards . . . before he came t\u2019 Virginia City?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . . \u201d Ben replied, taken aback by his middle son\u2019s question.<\/p>\n \u201cMe, neither, Big Guy,\u201d Candy replied. \u201cWhy do ya ask?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . \u2018n NONE o\u2019 us\u2019d ever heard o\u2019 Alexander Deveraux or Zachary Hilliard either, \u2018til now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t,\u201d Candy replied.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss . . . what\u2019re you getting at?\u201d Ben asked, as his thick brows came together to form a puzzled frown.<\/p>\n \u201cAny way we can find out the name o\u2019 their captain?\u201d Hoss asked. \u201cCould be HE\u2019S givin\u2019 the orders t\u2019 this Zachary Hilliard \u2018n Alexander Deveraux . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe COULD send a wire to the War Department in Washington, but given that it\u2019s part of the Federal Government, it\u2019d probably be a whole month of Sundays before we get back a reply,\u201d Ben said slowly, \u201cthat\u2019s assuming we get a reply at all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright . . . Hoss . . . I recently found out that a good friend of my father\u2019s is stationed in Washington D.C.,\u201d Candy said. \u201cYou probably know him, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh?\u201d Ben queried.<\/p>\n Candy nodded. \u201cIt was a good number of years ago, but at one time, he was the commander at the fort where the two of you and Joe first met Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot Major Baldwin!\u201d Hoss exclaimed with a scowl.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d Candy immediately shook his head. \u201cMajor Sean McGuinness.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . I DO remember Major McGuinness,\u201d Ben said. \u201cI had no idea in the world that YOU know him as well.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe and my father were close friends from the day they first met as a couple of raw recruits until the day my father was killed in battle,\u201d Candy explained. \u201cHis son, Dash, and I grew up together.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDash?\u201d Hoss queried. A smile tugged hard at the corner of his mouth. \u201cShort for Dashel McGuinness?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Candy replied with a grin.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen we met Stacy, Sergeant Dashel McGuinness was the man in charge o\u2019 the horses,\u201d Hoss explained.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and the only one who was able to earn a measure of Stacy\u2019s trust,\u201d Ben said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d forgotten about that,\u201d Candy said softly. \u201cAt any rate, Dash\u2019s father is now a general, with more than enough clout, I\u2019m sure, to shake loose answers to our questions, quickly and efficiently. I\u2019ll be more than happy to wire him. However . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes?\u201d Ben prompted, after a long moment of silence.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . haven\u2019t been in direct contact with him for . . . well, I\u2019m afraid it\u2019s been a very long time, Mister Cartwright,\u201d Candy ruefully confessed. \u201cBut . . . out of the goodness of his heart and remembering his friendship with my father . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Candy, nothin\u2019 ventured . . . nothin\u2019 gained,\u201d Hoss sagely observed.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll see to it first thing in the morning,\u201d Candy promised.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . uhhh, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWith the two men who, like as not, killed Eddie \u2018n TRIED t\u2019 hurt or kill Li\u2019l Sister referin\u2019 to themselves by Army rank, \u2018n doin\u2019 things the way they did \u2018em when they were in the Army . . . y\u2019 think it\u2019s possible they\u2019re goin\u2019 about their business now like it was some kinda military operation?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n His middle son\u2019s query sent an ice-cold chill running down the entire length of Ben\u2019s spine. He shuddered, as his eyes darted from one opaque shadow to the next, searching . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cPa?! Hey, Pa . . . you all right?\u201d Hoss queried with a puzzled frown.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss . . . Candy . . . I think we\u2019d better continue our discussion in the house,\u201d Ben said, making a point of lowering his voice.<\/p>\n \u201cSure thing, Pa,\u201d Hoss said. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you g\u2019won in? Candy \u2018n me\u2019ll be along, as soon as we take care o\u2019 the horses.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded his thanks, then turned and began walking at a brisk pace toward the house.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Joe closed the book in hand and placed it down onto the coffee table, upon hearing the front door open. \u201cPa, I\u2019m glad you\u2019re back,\u201d he said by way of greeting, as he rose from his seat in the blue chair, over next to the fireplace.<\/p>\n \u201cEverything alright?\u201d Ben asked, as he removed his hat, and set himself to the task of removing his gun belt.<\/p>\n \u201cFine,\u201d Joe said, as he walked over toward his father. En route, he paused just long enough to cast a quick, furtive glance upstairs.<\/p>\n \u201cI take it Stacy and Paris are upstairs?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe nodded. \u201cThey\u2019re in their rooms,\u201d he said. \u201cYou want me to call them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not just yet,\u201d Ben replied, as he and Joe made their way over toward the furniture grouped around the massive, gray stone fireplace.<\/p>\n \u201cSo. What did you find out about Eddie Jones?\u201d Joe asked, as he sat down in the middle of the settee. \u201cHoss told me that you and Candy found his body lying out in Potters\u2019 Field. Wasn\u2019t he supposed to have gone out with Arch and Dan?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo . . . what happened? Why DIDN\u2019T he go with them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo cut right to the heart of the matter, Arch and Dan told Hoss that Eddie just up and quit, the minute they reached the road,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n \u201cY-You\u2019re kidding!\u201d Joe exclaimed, his eyes round as saucers.<\/p>\n Ben shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cDid they tell Hoss WHY Eddie just . . . up \u2018n quit?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shared with Joe everything that Hoss had told Candy, Roy, and himself at the sheriff\u2019s office that afternoon, regarding Eddie Jones\u2019 sudden decision to quit his job on the Ponderosa.<\/p>\n \u201cThis business of us working Eddie too hard . . . Pa, that doesn\u2019t make one lick o\u2019 sense!\u201d Joe declared, shaking his head in complete and utter disbelief. \u201cI mean . . . for cryin\u2019 out loud! Eddie did the work of THREE men without even blinkin\u2019 an eye.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, Son. I have to admit it made no sense to me either . . . at first.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhaddya mean it made no sense to you either . . . at first?!\u201d Joe demanded.<\/p>\n Ben half sat-half fell into his favorite red leather chair, and reached for the bottle of brandy sitting in the middle of the coffee table. \u201cHis name wasn\u2019t Eddie Jones, Son . . . it was George Edwards.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGeorge Edwards . . . George Edwards . . . . \u201d Joe murmured softly, as he ran a hand through the tangle of thick, brown curls atop his head. \u201cGeorge . . . Edwards. Pa, for some reason, that name\u2019s familiar to me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHis picture\u2019s on a wanted poster, Joe . . . one that Roy had just received the day you went into town to ask if he had any replies back from wires we sent to the Pinkerton Agency and the New York City Police Department,\u201d Ben said, as he poured himself a generous glass full of good strong brandy.<\/p>\n Joe felt the blood drain right out of his face. \u201cPa . . . Sheriff Coffee s-said this . . . this George Edwards was some kinda killer f-for hire,\u201d he stammered in a voice barely audible.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n Joe was afraid to ask his next question, but knew he must. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and mentally braced himself. \u201cPa,\u201d he began, surprised at how calm his voice sounded in his own ears, \u201cw-was Eddie . . . I mean George . . . was he hired to kill someone?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben cast a quick glance over his shoulder toward the stairs. Upon returning his attention to his youngest son, he continued, taking great care to lower his voice. \u201cFrom the letters that Candy found in and among Ed\u2014, I mean George\u2019s things . . . I\u2019m inclined to believe that he was hired to harm . . . perhaps even kill your sister by two men . . . one of them being this wily Zachary Hilliard who always seems to keep himself a step ahead of us.\u201d<\/p>\n For a moment, Joe sat, still as a rabbit or a deer caught in the light of a fire or a hunter\u2019s lantern. He stared over at his father, through eyes round with shocked horror, too stunned to speak or even move. \u201cP-Pa . . . . \u201d he finally ventured, the minute he found his voice, \u201cwhy?!\u201d<\/p>\n Ben raised the brandy glass in hand to his lips and downed half its contents in a single gulp. \u201cAt this point, I don\u2019t know, Son.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo how, exactly . . . did Eddie . . . I mean George Edwards . . . die?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was shot,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cOnce in the back, and once in the back of his head.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBushwhacked?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought so . . . until I opened his wallet and found a hundred dollars inside.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cChiminey Christmas!\u201d Joe whispered, shaking his head. \u201cAny idea who killed him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cNot really. However, in my own humble opinion . . . for what it\u2019s worth . . . if Zachary Hilliard and his accomplice, a man by the name of Alexander Deveraux, DIDN\u2019T murder Eddie . . . George . . . or whoever he was . . . they have a real good idea who DID.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEven if they had nothing to do with his death, they still have plenty to answer for concerning Stacy\u2019s saddle,\u201d Joe said with a dark, angry scowl. \u201cThat\u2019s MY humble opinion . . . for what its worth.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI agree completely, Son,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cIs Sheriff Coffee gonna arrest \u2018em?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s going to bring \u2018em both in for questioning,\u201d Ben replied, \u201cassuming, of course, he can find them.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe silently digested everything his father had just told him. \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . think . . . maybe . . . I WILL have that glass of b-brandy after all . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Ben poured Joe a glass of brandy, then filled him in on all the remaining details.<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . . \u201d It was Hoss. He and Candy entered the house, and walked over to join Ben and Joe, after removing their own hats and gun belts. Hoss seated himself in the blue chair, while Joe made room for Candy on the settee. \u201cCandy \u2018n I got t\u2019 horses unsaddled, \u2018n gave \u2018em a good brushin\u2019. Mitch \u2018n Bobby are seein\u2019 to their food \u2018n water.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou said you wanted to continue our discussion in here,\u201d Candy said bluntly.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou brought Li\u2019l Brother here up t\u2019 speed on things, Pa?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah . . . he did,\u201d Joe replied. \u201cI\u2019m still trying to take it all in.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCall me paranoid if you\u2019d like,\u201d Ben said, continuing on with the matter utmost in all their minds, \u201cbut when Hoss pointed out that the letters, we found with Ed\u2014with GEORGE\u2019S things, were written in the style and manner of military orders, I . . . well, to put it bluntly, I started to wonder if those men might have us all under a surveillance of some kind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSurveillance?!\u201d Joe echoed, incredulous.<\/p>\n Ben nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cY-You\u2019re giving me a real bad case of the willies, Pa,\u201d Joe said soberly.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m giving myself a real bad case of the willies, too, Son,\u201d Ben admitted, with a shudder, \u201cbut, for the life of me, I can\u2019t shake it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt makes sense, actually,\u201d Candy said quietly, \u201cthough with George Edwards working here, they probably didn\u2019t have to watch all that closely. Now, that he\u2019s gone . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . they\u2019re going to be paying closer attention,\u201d Ben said grimly.<\/p>\n \u201cThat could work to our advantage, Mister Cartwright,\u201d Candy pointed out.<\/p>\n \u201cHow so?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n \u201cSo far, they\u2019ve taken great pains to cover their tracks and conceal their whereabouts,\u201d Candy explained. \u201cWith this George Edwards now permanently out of the picture, they\u2019re, like as not, going to be watching closer, just as you said. That\u2019s going to increase their risk of exposure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut . . . what, exactly, are they looking FOR?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cAnother opportunity, more \u2018n likely,\u201d Hoss said with a dark, angry scowl.<\/p>\n \u201cAnother opportunity to . . . to . . . . \u201d Joe turned and gazed up toward the upper environs of the house.<\/p>\n \u201cIf these men ARE watching us, I\u2019d say they\u2019re more than likely trespassing,\u201d Candy ventured. \u201cWe could organize search parties\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben immediately vetoed the idea. \u201cWe do that, they\u2019ll go deeper into hiding and bide their time. I want to put them out of business now, not later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do ya want us t\u2019 do, Pa?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n \u201cIf Zachary Hilliard and Alexander Deveraux want to play at being soldiers . . . I think we should play right along with them,\u201d Ben said slowly, his voice filled with grim resolve. \u201cCandy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Mister Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAfter we finish talking, I want you to ride out to the foreman\u2019s house and tell Hank I want to see him as soon as possible,\u201d Ben said. \u201cWhen he comes, I\u2019ll bring him up to date on everything.\u201d Hank Carlson was his senior foreman.<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . won\u2019t they expect us to do something like that?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben replied, \u201cbut I\u2019m figuring within the next day or so, they\u2019ll assume I asked Hank to come here so that I might tell him about Eddie Jones\u2019 death. In the meantime, you\u2019re to say absolutely nothing to the other men. I want them to go about their business as usual.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, Pa . . . . \u201d Hoss murmured softly.<\/p>\n Joe and Candy silently nodded ascent.<\/p>\n \u201cI want the three of YOU . . . and Hank . . . to be on the look out for strangers passing through . . . for campsites and other signs of human habitation . . . I think you get the picture,\u201d Ben continued.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and if we find someone trespassing or signs they\u2019ve passed through?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cFor now, deal with the situation as we usually do,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cIf Zachary Hilliard and Alexander Deveraux ARE watching us . . . and I think that very likely . . . I want to them to think we\u2019re completely ignorant of their presence.\u201d<\/p>\n Candy grinned. It was a mirthless, feral grin. \u201cLull them into a false sense of security, Mister Cartwright?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cMen who feel secure more often than not forget about being careful. They grow smug and arrogant before long . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . \u2018n men that cock sure o\u2019 themselves make mistakes,\u201d Hoss thoughtfully finished his father\u2019s train of thought.<\/p>\n \u201cExactly,\u201d Ben replied.<\/p>\n \u201cOne of us needs to stay here,\u201d Joe pointed out.<\/p>\n \u201cFor now, Hoss is the logical choice,\u201d Ben decided, \u201csince he and Stacy are in the midst of working with that stallion . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . which I, for the life of me, can\u2019t understand why,\u201d Joe said with a puzzled frown leveled in the direction of his big brother. \u201cI say turn him loose in the corral with our brood mares \u2018n let him do what he does best. Why waste the time \u2018n energy to saddle train him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . know we ain\u2019t had Sun Dancer all that long, Li\u2019l Brother,\u201d Hoss began, \u201cbut from what I\u2019ve seen so far, he seems to be even tempered \u2018n real easy goin\u2019.\u201d He grinned. \u201cHe\u2019s also taken quite a shine t\u2019 our li\u2019l sister.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHoss . . . if you and Stacy are having thoughts of her riding that animal in the Independence Day Race . . . the two of ya\u2019d better put \u2018em out of your minds right now,\u201d Ben said very sternly. \u201cNo daughter of mine is going to participate in a horse race and that\u2019s THAT.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Pa,\u201d Hoss replied with a doleful sigh.<\/p>\n \u201cI mean it, Hoss,\u201d Ben warned. \u201cI\u2019m counting on the two of ya working with Sun Dancer to lift Stacy\u2019s morale and keep her from chomping so hard at the bit what with having to keep her so close to home right now . . . but I am NOT going to change my mind about her riding that animal in the Independence Day Race.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright, supper ready twenty minute,\u201d Hop Sing announced, as he ambled into the great room. \u201cMake sure Miss Stacy and Miss Paris know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll tell \u2018em,\u201d Joe volunteered.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jeff Collier, known as Sarge to friends and acquaintances, sat behind a small, round table in a dark, out of the way corner of the Bucket of Blood Saloon. He wore a pair of faded, well-worn denim jeans, a yellow-beige cotton shirt with its long sleeves rolled to three quarter length, and a brown flannel jacket. A full glass of whiskey, untouched, sat on the table before him.<\/p>\n Tonight, the joint was \u201ca-leapin\u2019 an\u2019 a-jumpin\u2019 like a bunch o\u2019 big ol\u2019 bull frogs a-goin\u2019 after the same fly,\u201d to quote his youngest brother, Harvey. He had heard the raucous merriment and the piano, the minute he had turned the corner a block up the street. The patrons stood around the bar three and four deep, most well pickled, despite the early hour . . . .<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Evenin\u2019, Farmer Boy,\u201d cooed a low, throaty voice that dripped of magnolia and mint juleps. \u201cBuy me a drink?\u201d<\/p>\n He slowly lifted his head and found Belinda Everett, one of the barmaids standing over him. Tonight she wore a satin dress of bright scarlet, with a plunging neckline and hem that reached just above her knees. The garment clung to her voluptuous, womanly figure, as if she had been heated to a liquid and poured into it. His eyes lingered appreciatively on her generous, well rounded bosom for a moment, then slowly followed the gentle, curving lines that flowed into a trim waist and nicely rounded hips, culminating in a pair of long shapely legs.<\/p>\n \u201cYou must have a lot on your mind, Farmer Boy,\u201d Belinda purred, low, soft, and inviting, as she pulled out the only other chair at the table.<\/p>\n \u201cYep,\u201d Jeff grunted.<\/p>\n \u201cYou wanna talk about it over a bottle of whiskey and two glasses?\u201d she asked, placing her hand over his. \u201cWe can go up to my room \u2018n talk private, if ya like.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSorry . . . no,\u201d Jeff immediately declined, as he gently, yet very pointedly lifted her hand off of his. He, then, reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a single bill. \u201cHere y\u2019 are, Miss. If you happen across another farm boy this evening with lots on his mind . . . buy him and yourself a beer on me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you kindly, Farmer Boy,\u201d she said stiffly, as she rose, and provocatively stuffed the dollar bill between her breasts. She, then, turned heel, and strode briskly toward the bar without sparing a backward glance.<\/p>\n \u201cPretty girl.\u201d<\/p>\n Jeff glanced up and saw Lieutenant Zachary Hilliard, dressed as the elderly derelict, Bill Taylor, leaning believably on his cane. He respectfully rose to his feet, but did not salute. \u201cIn her own way, I suppose. Compared to Eileen . . . well, I\u2019ll be gentlemanly, Sir, and simply say she comes up sorely wanting.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEileen was truly one of a kind, Sergeant. Beautiful, every bit as intelligent as the blue stockings from whence I came, yet with all the genteel charm and grace of a lady from the old south,\u201d Zachary said quietly, his voice filled with great respect. \u201cI was very sorry to learn of her death.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Mister Taylor,\u201d Jeff said quietly. \u201cWould you care to sit down?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Mister Collier,\u201d Bill Taylor, alias for Zachary Hilliard, said crisply. He pulled out the other chair and eased himself down into it. \u201cAt ease.\u201d<\/p>\n Jeff nodded curtly and sat down. \u201cI have two copies of my report, Sir. One for you and one for the captain,\u201d he said, producing a stuffed envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket. \u201cIt details the Cartwright Family\u2019s movements over the past three days, including all the why\u2019s and wherefores . . . among other things.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Sergeant,\u201d Zachary said crisply. He took the envelope and slipped it under his shirt.<\/p>\n \u201cI want to bring two things to your immediate attention, however,\u201d Jeff continued. \u201cFirst, Mister Cartwright\u2019s very much aware that his daughter is in danger.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary felt the blood drain right out of his face. \u201cOh no,\u201d he groaned softly. \u201cAre you certain?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe captain will not be pleased,\u201d Zachary said, his eyes round with fear.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Jeff agreed somberly.<\/p>\n \u201cHow much does Mister Cartwright know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe knows the girl\u2019s in danger,\u201d Jeff replied. \u201cI know that much. I\u2019m still working on finding out the answers to how and why.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s why he\u2019s keeping the girl close to home?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAny idea as to what alerted Mister Cartwright to his daughter\u2019s peril?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe failure of Operation Fall From Grace,\u201d Jeff replied. \u201cIt HAS to be. The older son, the big man they call Hoss, discovered the cut cinch almost immediately.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDamn it!\u201d Zachary swore, angry and frustrated, yet fearful.<\/p>\n \u201cSir . . . far be it from me to . . . well . . . to, uhhh . . . criticize your actions . . . . \u201d Jeff hesitantly ventured.<\/p>\n \u201cSpit it out, Mister Collier,\u201d Zachary ordered tersely.<\/p>\n \u201cThe Cartwrights know that a man by the name of Zachary Hilliard was in town a few days ago, asking questions about the girl,\u201d Jeff said with reluctance.<\/p>\n Zachary blanched. He closed his eyes, and forced himself to take a deep breath, long, slow, even . . . .<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and hold . . . two . . . three . . . four, his voice teacher chanted once again, now exhale . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n His eyes suddenly snapped open. \u201cMister Collier, are you trying to tell me that Ben Cartwright and his sons can connect my discreet questions with the attempt made on the girl\u2019s life?\u201d Zachary demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, Sir,\u201d Jeff replied, \u201cnot for certain. MY guess is . . . Mister Cartwright\u2019s suspicions have been aroused, but he\u2019s not one hundred percent certain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFor making a guess, you sound very sure of yourself,\u201d Zachary caustically observed.<\/p>\n \u201cI am a soldier as you well know, Mister Taylor,\u201d Jeff said quietly. \u201cBut I am also a father. Given the same set of circumstances . . . a saddle cinch that was deliberately cut, and a stranger in town asking questions about my family, I\u2019d be keeping MY daughter close to home, too, if I were in Mister Cartwrights shoes . . . until I could learn more.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s imperative that we find out exactly what Mister Cartwright knows and how he came to find out about it,\u201d Zachary said, his tone of voice terse, his syllables clipped and words over enunciated. He quickly slid his hands off the table and into his lap, that the man, seated across the table from him, not see their trembling.<\/p>\n \u201cI will do my best, Sir,\u201d Jeff dutifully promised, \u201cbut surveillance will be more difficult now with Mister Edwards\u2019 sudden demise.\u201d<\/p>\n Tiny beads of cold sweat dotted Zachary Hilliard\u2019s brow. His stomach lurched, and for one brief, horrifying moment, he half feared he was going to loose the meager supper he had eaten less than an hour before. \u201cYou KNOW?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout Mister Edwards?\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir. I know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat . . . exactly . . . do you know about Mister Edwards\u2019 sudden demise?\u201d Zachary asked. It took every ounce of will and resolve he possessed to maintain his outward appearance of stoic calm.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know anything regarding the circumstances of his death, Mister Taylor,\u201d Jeff replied. \u201cI only know that Mister Cartwright and Mister Canaday found his body lying in a field several yards from the main road between Virginia City and the Ponderosa . . . and that they and Mister Cartwright\u2019s older son, Hoss, took the private\u2019s body into town, presumably to the sheriff.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDammit!\u201d Zachary swore under his breath.<\/p>\n \u201cSir?!\u201d Jeff queried, taken aback by the lieutenant\u2019s sudden burst of temper.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Collier, what I am about to impart is, for the time being, for YOUR ears only,\u201d Zachary said stiffly. He fell silent for a moment to give consideration to the words he would utter next. \u201cIt . . . recently came to my attention that Mister Edwards was about to commit what amounts to being an act of high treason.\u201d<\/p>\n Jeff\u2019s jaw dropped. He stared over at Zachary Hilliard through eyes round as saucers, too stunned to utter a word.<\/p>\n Private George Edwards was what many contemptuously referred to as a mercenary, a soldier for hire. Lieutenant Hilliard and Corporal Deveraux had hired him to do espionage work and to carry out a special mission. Jeff knew nothing of the particulars concerning said special mission, nor was he the slightest bit curious. If his superior officers decided it was necessary for him to know, they would tell him.<\/p>\n Private Edwards\u2019 espionage work, however, had been nothing short of exemplary. Though he quite literally stood head and shoulders above most, he was a quiet, unobtrusive man, with sharp ears, and an excellent memory for details. The man had also displayed an uncanny knack for remembering conversations, word for word. Jeff had come to know early on that he could trust the man to provide accurate, detailed information.<\/p>\n His thoughts momentarily drifted back to his very last meeting with Private Edwards . . . . \u201c . . . uhh . . . why are you, um, telling ME this, Private?\u201d Jeff asked.<\/p>\n George Edwards eyes met his own with a piercing stare that \u201ccut clear through all the muckity muck, right straight to the heart of the matter,\u201d to quote his sainted mother, Leah Collier. \u201cYou know damned well why I\u2019m tellin\u2019 YOU this, Sergeant . . . . \u201d he replied in a quiet, deathly calm tone of voice.<\/p>\n He knew.<\/p>\n Jeff Collier had never voiced a word of his own misgivings about this mission to anyone, least of all to a man who, for all his good work, remained a stranger to him. \u201cHow?\u201d he silently, fearfully wondered.<\/p>\n Did Private Edwards possess some uncanny way of knowing?<\/p>\n Or were his own feelings that obvious? Jeff shuddered at the thought. The sound of Lieutenant Hilliard\u2019s voice, terse, with syllables clipped, forced Jeff from his uneasy musings with a violent start.<\/p>\n \u201cThat is the THIRD time I\u2019ve called to you,\u201d Zachary admonished the man seated with him at the table, his annoyance clearly heard.<\/p>\n \u201cM-My apologies, Sir,\u201d Jeff said, while inwardly struggling to compose himself. \u201cThough he was not part of our unit, Mister Edwards\u2019 work was exemplary and his conduct above reproach. I\u2019m astonished and dismayed to learn he was on the verge of committing high treason.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs was I,\u201d Zachary said, slightly mollified by Jeff\u2019s apology and explanation. \u201cMy . . . source, however, is reliable . . . impeccably so.\u201d<\/p>\n Jeff nodded. \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d he quietly affirmed.<\/p>\n \u201cI ordered Corporal Devereaux to resolve the matter,\u201d Zachary continued, his anger and frustration rising. \u201cUnfortunately, that . . . that incompetent son-of-a-bitch can\u2019t carry out a simple assignment in a bucket. I should have realized something was amiss when the sheriff came around to see Bill Taylor this evening just before supper time.\u201d<\/p>\n Jeff blanched. \u201cSurely the sheriff d-doesn\u2019t suspect . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m reasonably certain he doesn\u2019t,\u201d Zachary said curtly. \u201cI . . . that is Bill Taylor . . . played a couple of hands of poker with Private Edwards and others, including Mister Canaday.\u201d<\/p>\n Jeff Collier mulled over everything that Zachary Hilliard had just told him, with fear and trembling. He remembered the incident concerning the Cartwright girl\u2019s saddle, and, though he had his suspicions, he had no idea that Private Edwards had been responsible.<\/p>\n Until now.<\/p>\n Frankly, Jeff was amazed Private Edwards would have left so much to chance. From what little he had been able to observe for himself, the private appeared to be very meticulous in his planning, always taking into account the unexpected.<\/p>\n \u201cSergeant Collier, I\u2019ve killed a good number o\u2019 men over the last six or seven years . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n George Edwards\u2019 words once again echoed in his mind.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . I\u2019ve never killed a woman, though I been tempted a time of two . . . \u2018n I never killed any children. Never. I . . . thought . . . maybe I could, if I was paid enough . . . . I was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . uhh . . . why are you, um, telling ME this, Private?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know damned well why I\u2019m tellin\u2019 YOU this, Sergeant . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoes the captain know about any of this?\u201d Jeff asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNot yet.\u201d<\/p>\n An uneasy silence fell between the two men, like a heavy pall.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . WILL . . . personally . . . see that the captain is . . . informed,\u201d Zachary added. When he felt the time was right. He fervently hoped and prayed that some of the more zealous members of the unit, like the hero worshipping Matthews boys, didn\u2019t beat him to the proverbial punch.<\/p>\n Jeff nodded, relieved and deeply, profoundly grateful the responsibility of reporting Private Edwards\u2019 death and the circumstances surrounding it didn\u2019t fall on his shoulders.<\/p>\n Zachary leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. For a moment, he sat with eyes closed, gingerly massaging his temples. \u201cDo you have anything else to report, Mister Collier?\u201d he asked, finally.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir . . . I do,\u201d Jeff replied. \u201cIt may be nothing of consequence, but in the interest of keeping you and the captain fully informed . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d Zachary demanded, mentally bracing himself.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Canaday was seen leaving the bunkhouse shortly after the noon hour, carrying a duffle bag that appeared to be half full,\u201d Jeff replied.<\/p>\n Zachary felt his heart plummet to his feet like a granite millstone dropped into a very deep body of water. \u201cPrivate Edwards\u2019 things?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t say for absolute certain . . . not without inspecting the contents of that bag myself, Sir, but I\u2019d say it was more than likely, given that Private Edwards was the only one of Ben Cartwright\u2019s men who traveled that light,\u201d Jeff said grimly. \u201cI know that Corporal Deveraux corresponded with Private Edwards several times on your behalf . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you saying that the correspondence between Corporal Deveraux and Private Edwards is in the hands of the sheriff?!\u201d Zachary demanded, fearful and angry.<\/p>\n \u201cAgain . . . I can\u2019t answer yea or nay for certain without seeing for myself,\u201d Jeff replied. \u201cThough I would assume that Private Edwards was ordered to destroy any and all correspondence from the corporal.\u201d<\/p>\n That, of course, was standard procedure, but given the way Corporal Deveraux had botched nearly everything to which he had sent his hand ever since their arrival in Virginia City, Zachary, unfortunately couldn\u2019t be sure that Private Edwards had been told.<\/p>\n Not that it mattered . . . .<\/p>\n Zachary Hilliard knew with dread certainty that Private Edwards had kept every last one of those damning letters, with the intention of using them as a means of blackmail.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s one thing more, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Zachary demanded, bracing himself for the worst, while wondering how things could possibly get any worse.<\/p>\n \u201cAgain, this may be of no consequence, Sir, but while Mister Canaday was in the bunkhouse, Hoss Cartwright and two young men were observed hitching horses to the family\u2019s buckboard,\u201d Jeff continued. \u201cThey appeared to be in something of a hurry.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary squeezed his eyes shut tight against an environment that, all of a sudden, began to spin with nauseating intensity before his eyes. He felt lightheaded, and the muscles of his chest seemed to have turned into lead weights, turning the simple act of drawing breath into a torturous, almost impossible ordeal.<\/p>\n \u201cTiming.\u201d<\/p>\n It was the voice of one of his instructors, during his time at Westpoint, a brilliant man by the name of Sinclair. Major Josiah Sinclair.<\/p>\n \u201cTiming, Gentlemen, is everything,\u201d the major continued, as he turned and began to pace very slowly, back and forth, in front of the classroom. \u201cTiming, Gentlemen, can mean all the difference between success or failure, crushing defeat or stunning victory . . . even life or death.\u201d<\/p>\n . . . life . . . or death.<\/p>\n There was, of course, always the outside chance that the facts just told him by the sergeant were nothing of significance. While he stubbornly hoped and prayed it would ultimately turn out to be so, he knew deep in his heart that given the timing of all things, the worst possible had occurred.<\/p>\n The Cartwrights and the sheriff of Virginia City had read the letters the corporal has sent to Private Edwards on his behalf. That much was a given.<\/p>\n \u201cSergeant . . . . \u201d Zachary queried in a hollow, wooden voice.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe have a man assigned to the sheriff\u2019s office . . . is that correct?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Jeff replied. \u201cJed Matthews. He was the drummer for our unit. He\u2019s a good man, highly competent and very loyal. He was hired by the city council to clean all of the public offices a month ago, the sheriff\u2019s office among them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . worse and worse!\u201d Zachary silently groaned. He made himself a mental note to ask his aide, Private Yates, to contact Private Matthews as soon as humanly possible first to determine whether or not the sheriff was indeed in possession of the potentially incriminating letters; and second, to persuade him not to say a word of this debacle to the captain. Unlike his younger brother, David, Jed knew full well the importance of military protocol given that he had actually served with their unit in time of war. \u201cI just hope and pray that damned fool corporal made no mention of the captain in his correspondence . . . . \u201d he murmured very softly, with a shudder.<\/p>\n \u201cSir?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Mister Collier?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSorry . . . I thought perhaps YOU had just said something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI, uhhh . . . was speculating . . . thinking aloud,\u201d Zachary replied, chagrinned upon finding out he had indeed done just so, yet relieved that Jeff Collier hadn\u2019t quite caught what he had mumbled. \u201cI . . . hope Corporal Deveraux\u2019s inept handling of the traitor within our midst won\u2019t result in our having to abort our mission entirely.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPermission to speak freely, Mister Taylor?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPermission granted . . . . \u201d Zachary warily gave consent.<\/p>\n \u201cRather than abort the mission completely, my suggestion is that we pull back,\u201d Jeff said, trying his utmost to ignore the sudden, indignant screaming of his conscience. \u201cKeep them under surveillance, but do absolutely nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cConvince the Cartwrights we\u2019ve retreated?\u201d Zachary queried.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Jeff replied. \u201cThey WILL let their guard down, sooner, I think, rather than later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat makes you so sure?\u201d Zachary asked.<\/p>\n \u201cMister Cartwright\u2019s daughter is the independent sort, who chafes mightily against the restrictions currently placed on her,\u201d Jeff explained.<\/p>\n \u201cHow will that help us?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe inevitable strife that\u2019s sure to result between Mister Cartwright and his daughter, if it hasn\u2019t already . . . may very likely prompt him to lift his restrictions sooner,\u201d Jeff replied. \u201cMister Cartwright values family peace and unity above all else.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs this . . . observation . . . included in your written report, Mister Collier?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Jeff replied, all of a sudden feeling very much on the defensive. \u201cYou and the captain did ask me to include my thoughts and opinions . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. So we did,\u201d Zachary reluctantly admitted. He pushed back his chair and rose stiffly to his feet. \u201cI will see you here tomorrow evening,\u201d he said. \u201cSame time.\u201d With that he turned, and left the sergeant alone at the table.<\/p>\n Jeff took a ginger sip from the whiskey glass in front of him, grimacing in distaste.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know damned well why I\u2019m tellin\u2019 YOU this, Sergeant . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Jeff silently responded. Like the late Private Edwards, he, also, had no qualms whatsoever about killing men, if the situation warranted, but the thought of killing a young woman . . . a teenager, not so far removed from childhood . . . went completely against his grain.<\/p>\n \u201cRest easy, Sergeant. Rest easy. We\u2019re getting out of here . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n He heard again the voice of his captain, calm, reassuring, filled with unshakable resolve.<\/p>\n \u201cRest easy, Sergeant.<\/p>\n Rest easy.<\/p>\n We\u2019re getting out of here . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n John McKenna\u2019s face, as it had been at Antietam Creek, Maryland, rose to the forefront of his thoughts. Concern for his well being, fear, anger, courage, and a grim determination to see both of them reach safety before the night was out were clearly etched into the face of the man he would come to know over the years as simply captain.<\/p>\n \u201cRest easy, Sergeant.<\/p>\n Rest easy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n The face of Lieutenant John McKenna at Antietam Creek faded and dissolved into the face of Captain John McKenna somewhere in Georgia, a scant two months after General William Tecumseh Sherman\u2019s devastating march to the sea. He stood before the charred remains of what was once a magnificent antebellum mansion, his face white as a sheet, sickened by the wanton destruction surrounding him.<\/p>\n A young private stood facing him, smug and arrogant. Between them was the body of a young woman, lying face down in the dirt, her clothing ripped to shreds. There was a revolver in the private\u2019s hand and two bullet wounds in the dead woman\u2019s back.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was self defense, Captain,\u201d the young private arrogantly proclaimed. \u201cShe tried to KILL me. I didn\u2019t WANT to kill her, but if I hadn\u2019t\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLIAR!\u201d an old man snarled, with tears streaming down his face. \u201cYou goddam lying son-of-a bitch.\u201d He stood between Corporal Deveraux and another young private, his arms securely clasped in their hands. \u201cHe killed her. MURDERED her . . . \u2018cause she wouldn\u2019t give that . . . that animal what he wanted.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShut-up, y\u2019 ol\u2019 coot!\u201d the private spat contemptuously.<\/p>\n \u201cThis true, Private?\u201d<\/p>\n The young man\u2019s confidence wavered. \u201cN-No,\u201d he replied. \u201cShe tried to kill me, I swear it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe tried to kill YOU.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir, I swear, Sir. She tried to kill me. I had no choice. No choice at all. If I hadn\u2019t killed her, she would\u2019ve certainly killed me . . . . \u201d the private babbled.<\/p>\n \u201cAn unarmed woman . . . half starved by the look of her . . . tried to kill you,\u201d the captain said, his voice low and menacing, \u201c and you shot her in the back, not once but twice . . . in self defense.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d the private protested, shaking his head in vigorous denial. \u201cNo. It wasn\u2019t like that, it wasn\u2019t\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want the truth, Private . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n The young man finally told the truth. By then, he was down on his knees, sobbing. He and five others had come upon the family, what was left of the family. An old man, the dead woman, the two frightened boys peering at them from the shelter of a wild, overgrown bush, and the infant, lying in Jeff Collier\u2019s own arms, peacefully sleeping. Since the destruction of their grand and glorious home, the old man, his daughter, and her three children had taken shelter in the small building that once housed the kitchen. The old man had been pistol whipped within an inch of his life. The private had wanted the woman and become very angry when she contemptuously spurned him. In a fit of rage, he had thrown the woman down and fired two bullets into her back, while the old man, her father, watched, helpless to intervene.<\/p>\n \u201cStand up, Private,\u201d the captain ordered, his voice deathly calm, his eyes smoldering with rage.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease,\u201d the young man begged, as he rose unsteadily to his feet. \u201cPlease, h-have mercy? I don\u2019t wanna die\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sure SHE didn\u2019t want to die either,\u201d the captain spat, as he withdrew his own gun from its holster and raised it to shoulder height . . . . \u201cThe captain has his reasons,\u201d the sergeant muttered angrily to himself. \u201cThe captain HAS his reasons. Mine is NOT to question . . . but to obey.\u201d He rose, picked up the glass of whiskey still sitting on the table before him, and downed its contents in a single gulp.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Darkness, opaque and impenetrable, surrounded and covered her like a thick black shroud. In the dark, she heard the voices, droning like locusts on a hot summer day. Two men, somewhere in the distance, argued bitterly. No words. Never any words, only voices. The profound depths of anger and bitterness, she sensed with terrible crystal clarity, frightened her more than anything. She also heard women\u2019s voices in the dark. She couldn\u2019t hear their words, either, only the quick, rapid fire of a morass formed by strings of vowels and consonants. She knew with horrifying certainty that they were as frightened as she was.<\/em><\/p>\n Her eyes caught movement in the darkness. A young girl child, with long, mussed hair, crinkled from constant braiding, slipped from the bed and made her way out of the room. The child paused, and turned meeting her eyes with an unflinching gaze. The little girl had the same startling blue eyes she, herself did. The child wanted her to follow. She saw it in her face. But, the prospect of following that little girl was frightening beyond all imagining. The thought of remaining alone in the dark, however, was even more so. She reluctantly followed the little girl from one dark place through another to a door. The girl had to stand on tiptoes to open the doorknob.<\/em><\/p>\n She followed the little girl hesitantly into a room, occupied by three women. Two of the women were very angry with the child for intruding into their domain. The third woman, a kindly spirit who bore striking resemblance to another she had recently come to know, took the child by the hand and led her back to her own room. She spoke to the child in kind, reassuring tones, calling her by that other name.<\/em><\/p>\n Footsteps, followed by slamming doors.<\/em><\/p>\n The three women and the child were rudely taken from their places of sleep and refuge, and herded single file down a long hallway. She forced herself to follow. The three women and little girl entered through a portal, beyond which lay a darkness far more terrifying than anything she had ever experienced in her life. She tried to follow, but her feet would not move.<\/em><\/p>\n A series of explosions rocked the house, shaking her entire world to bits. Suddenly, the house she was in shifted ninety degrees. She found herself clinging for dear life to the doorjamb. In the end, her hands and fingers proved too weak to hold her. She tumbled headlong into the room. There in the flickering illumination of a strange, obscene light, she at long last saw their faces. An old man and woman, the mean, angry younger woman, and the kind woman were all there . . . dead. Though the child was nowhere to be seen, an evil presence yet remained in the room, threatening to suffocate her.<\/em><\/p>\n She heard the kind woman\u2019s voice urging her to run, calling again her by that other name. With heart thudding hard against her throat, she ran to the window, but could not open it. The roaring sound of a mighty, horrible wind rose and grew, blotting out the sound of her screams.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cStacy?!\u201d Ben anxiously tried to rouse her. \u201cStacy, wake up, it\u2019s Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n Her eyes suddenly flew open.<\/p>\n The next thing Ben knew, she was in his arms, sobbing. He held her close, letting her cry, murmuring what he hoped were words of reassurance.<\/p>\n \u201cBen?\u201d It was Paris. \u201cI heard Stacy cry out . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnother nightmare,\u201d Ben said anxiously. \u201cThis is the worst yet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnything I can do?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben shook his head.<\/p>\n Paris entered the room and crossed to the other side of the bed. \u201cI\u2019m here, too, Stacy,\u201d she said softly, as she seated herself on the edge, \u201cif you want me.\u201d<\/p>\n Though Stacy continued to hold on to Ben for dear life, she tentatively reached out and took Miss Paris\u2019 hand. \u201cP-Pa? Miss Paris? Would you please . . . please stay with me awhile?\u201d she asked, as her storm of grief and fear began to subside.<\/p>\n Ben looked over at Paris. She nodded. \u201cWe\u2019re here, Stacy,\u201d he said quietly, \u201cfor as long as you want us.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy rested for a time in her father\u2019s embrace, holding tightly to Miss Paris\u2019 hand, gathering her own strength. It was right, somehow, that Miss Paris be here, too. \u201cI s-saw them, Pa,\u201d she said at length.<\/p>\n \u201cThe people?\u201d Ben prompted.<\/p>\n Stacy nodded. \u201cThey were the people I lived with before Silver Moon and Jon Running Deer,\u201d she continued. \u201cI know that now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour family?\u201d Ben prompted.<\/p>\n \u201cWERE my family,\u201d she said emphatically.<\/p>\n \u201cWERE your family is right,\u201d Ben agreed. \u201cDo you remember their names?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey were . . . my grandmother . . . m-my grandfather, and two aunts.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo mother or father?\u201d Paris asked.<\/p>\n Stacy shook her head.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened the people?\u201d Ben prompted.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . I don\u2019t know, exactly . . . . \u201d Stacy\u2019s entire body began to tremble.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m here, Stacy,\u201d Ben said softly. \u201cI\u2019m right here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo am I,\u201d Paris said, as she tentatively reached out and placed her hand on the girl\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cThey were dead, Pa,\u201d she said, her voice unsteady. \u201cAll of \u2018em. S-Someone . . . someone shot \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWere you able to see the person who shot them?\u201d Paris asked.<\/p>\n Stacy shook her head. \u201cThere w-was . . . there was someone ELSE in the dream,\u201d she continued, \u201ca little girl, five . . . maybe six years old. I followed her throughout the dream.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas the . . . was the little girl in with the dead people?\u201d Paris asked, trying very hard not to think of poor Rose Miranda.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Stacy replied. \u201cShe went into that room with my grandparents and my aunts, but I didn\u2019t see her among the dead.\u201d She fell silent for a moment. \u201cBut there was someone else in that room . . . . \u201d She shuddered. \u201cAn evil presence! It almost smothered me.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben held her apart from him, just enough to look her in the eye. \u201cI\u2019m proud of you, Young Woman . . . VERY proud of you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou ARE?!\u201d Stacy queried with a puzzled frown.<\/p>\n \u201cI certainly am,\u201d Ben said quietly. \u201cThat was a very brave thing you did tonight. This is the first time you\u2019ve ever gotten a real good look at the people.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrave!?\u201d Stacy echoed incredulously. \u201cPa, I was scared the whole time. The . . . the only reason I followed the child through the dream was because I was too scared to stay where I was . . . alone in the dark.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat makes what you did tonight all the more courageous,\u201d Paris said softly.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris is absolutely right,\u201d Ben agreed. \u201cYou made yourself look at those people tonight, and allowed yourself to remember who they were so you could name them.\u201d He fell silent, allowing her to absorb the import of his words. \u201cYou told me something about naming things a long time ago. Something Silver Moon taught you.\u201d<\/p>\n Stacy nodded. \u201cShe told me that if I could name something, I could take away its power to hurt me,\u201d she said slowly.<\/p>\n \u201cGrandmother, Grandfather, Two Aunts,\u201d Ben repeated their names. \u201cThey can\u2019t hurt you, not anymore . . . because YOU\u2019VE taken away their power to hurt you.\u201d He paused. \u201cI want you to remember that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will,\u201d she promised. \u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . I didn\u2019t get a chance to tell ya after supper, but . . . I\u2019m sorry about that fight we had this morning,\u201d she said, her eyes glistening in the dim light of the oil lamp on the table beside her bed, its flame turned down low.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, too, Stacy,\u201d Ben murmured softly.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you meant I shouldn\u2019t go out on Blaze Face by myself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know . . . and I\u2019m sorry I didn\u2019t make it clear that you\u2019re not to venture outside the house without one of us with you,\u201d Ben said, exceedingly grateful that a measure of peace had finally been restored; yet, at the same time, wondering how long it was going to last. \u201cStacy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hope you know I\u2019m not doing this to punish you in any way . . . but that I\u2019m doing this to protect you . . . to keep you safe,\u201d Ben said quietly. \u201cI know that being confined to the house isn\u2019t an easy thing for a free-spirited young woman like you to bear, and I hate having to resort to this . . . every bit as much as you hate having to live with it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know,\u201d she said, as she wiped the tears from her cheeks on the sleeve of her nightshirt. \u201cI . . . I k-kinda think that deep down . . . I already knew it, even before H-Hoss and Joe told me when we . . . when we sat down to dinner. Pa . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Stacy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you say no, it\u2019ll be what I deserve, I s\u2019pose . . . especially after this morning, but . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you\u2019re about to suggest a trip out to Dressler\u2019s Pond this Saturday morning to catch some trout for supper . . . I think the answer might be yes,\u201d Ben said quietly.<\/p>\n Stacy slowly lifted her head and regarded her father for a moment through eyes round with surprise and awe. \u201cPa, I . . . h-how did you know I . . . that I— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I know YOU, Young Woman,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cNow as to what you deserve or don\u2019t deserve, I . . . think Hoss was absolutely right when he told me at breakfast this morning that my having to keep you so close to home is sufficient punishment in and of itself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen . . . we can go?\u201d she ventured, hardly daring to hope.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ben replied, grateful to see a glimmer of hope shining once more in those great big blue eyes of hers, \u201cwe can go.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Pa!\u201d she said, her voice catching as the arms, wrapped loosely about her father\u2019s waist tightened. \u201cThank you, thank you, thank you! . . . and I\u2019ll try real hard to do better . . . . \u201d Her remaining words were swallowed up by a great big yawn.<\/p>\n \u201cI know you will,\u201d Ben said gently, all the while silently hoping and praying that she would find the wherewithal within her to honor those good intentions. \u201cLooks like it\u2019s time for you to go back to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . Miss Paris,\u201d Stacy said as she snuggled under the covers, \u201cI-I feel like such a little kid for asking this . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it, Stacy?\u201d Paris prompted gently.<\/p>\n \u201cCan you both stay with me, just a while longer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOn one condition,\u201d Ben said, as he tucked her back in. \u201cI want you lie still and close your eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOk, Pa . . . . \u201d Stacy quickly drifted off to an easy, deep slumber in spite of herself.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Paris,\u201d Ben said softly, as they quietly let themselves out of Stacy\u2019s room. \u201cI think you being there meant a lot to Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris smiled. \u201cYou, of course, are her mainstay,\u201d she said, \u201cbut, if my being there is in anyway helpful, it\u2019s . . . . \u201d She sighed and shook her head. \u201cIt hardly seems appropriate to say it\u2019s my pleasure.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben smiled back. \u201cI understand,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cThat poor child,\u201d Paris murmured sadly. \u201cWhat inner demons torment her to inspire such nightmares?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re memories,\u201d Ben said gravely. \u201cI grow more convinced each time she has one of those nightmares. Something apparently happened to her when she was a young child. The memories were too horrible for the child to bear, so she relegated them as far as she could to the deep recesses of her mind. Over the years, the memories surfaced in the form of a recurring nightmare.<\/p>\n \u201cShe must have been having the dream on a regular basis while she lived with the Paiutes because Silver Moon gave her an escape plan,\u201d he continued. \u201cShe also had the dream frequently when she first came to live with us here, but over time it faded. We thought the dreams were through with her for good, it\u2019s been so long.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen did they start up again?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe night you arrived,\u201d Ben said thoughtfully, realizing the connection for the first time. \u201cThey returned almost with a vengeance.\u201d<\/p>\n She gazed up at him with eyes round as saucers.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Paris,\u201d he said quickly, \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to imply that you\u2019re in any way to blame.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI probably still served as a catalyst, however,\u201d Paris said ruefully. Seeing the hurt, stricken look on his face, she continued, \u201cNo, Ben, please, I don\u2019t mean me personally. Stacy\u2019s old enough now to face what ever it is that happened, and come to terms with it. I served as a catalyst because I\u2019m a stranger to her and an unexpected guest. But, if I hadn\u2019t come along, something or perhaps someONE else would have triggered the dreams again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve tried to encourage her to stop running from whatever\u2019s chasing her in those nightmares, and face it,\u201d Ben said somberly, \u201cbut, after tonight, I wonder if I did the right thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ben, absolutely,\u201d Paris said with quiet conviction. \u201cI worked as a practical nurse for a time, and dealt with a fair number of patients in the same boat as Stacy is right now. I learned very quickly that it\u2019s better all around if the person faces up to whatever happened, sooner as opposed to later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can see the wisdom of that,\u201d Ben said, \u201cbut it\u2019s heart wrenching to watch her go through it, and not really being able to help.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou help far more than you can possibly realize by just being there, with an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on,\u201d Paris said with a smile, \u201cand from the things you told her tonight, I\u2019d say you have a lot more wisdom than you give yourself credit for.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Paris, for the vote of confidence,\u201d he said gratefully.<\/p>\n A companionable silence descended upon them as they continued down the hallway together. As they came to a stop before the open door to the guest room, Paris turned slowly. Ben unconsciously reached out and slipped his arms loosely around her waist. Paris allowed him to pull her close. With a soft, contented sigh, her head dropped down and came to rest against his chest, in much the same way Stacy\u2019s had just moments before.<\/p>\n Ben gazed down at the fragile woman in his arms lovingly. At length, she raised her head again and looked up. Their eyes met first, followed closely by their lips in the merest caress of a kiss.<\/p>\n \u201cParis, I . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Paris reached up and gently covered his mouth with her fingertips. \u201cNo, Ben,\u201d she pleaded softly. \u201cPlease . . . n-not yet.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Saturday morning dawned with heavy lead gray skies, and a deluge of rain that would continue over the course of the next three or four days. Stacy stood before the window in her bedroom, still clad in the oversized nightshirt she always wore to bed, gazing out at the dreary weather, her face and eyes filled with dismay. \u201cDadburn it,\u201d she whispered softly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat was that, Kid?\u201d<\/p>\n She turned and found Joe standing framed in the open door to her bedroom. He wore a pair of pajama bottoms and shirt, the latter donned in haste. It hung unbuttoned from his lean, muscular frame. \u201cI\u2019m wishing for one minute I COULD be a little kid again,\u201d she groused, as she folded her arms across her chest, and turned back toward the window.<\/p>\n \u201cOh?\u201d Joe queried in mild surprise, as he stepped into the room. \u201cWhy is that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo I could scream, cry, and stamp my feet without . . . well . . . without feeling like some dumb little kid,\u201d she replied, wincing against the sudden stinging of tears in her eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cI know how ya feel, Stace,\u201d Joe said with genuine heartfelt sympathy. \u201cI also know how much you were really looking forward to spending the day fishing with Pa. I\u2019m sorry the rain had to scuttle it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMe, too,\u201d she sighed, then brightened. \u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou think maybe . . . just maybe . . . the rain\u2019ll clear out by this afternoon?\u201d she asked, clinging desperately to that tiny glimmer of hope.<\/p>\n Joe shook his head. \u201cYou know the answer to that as well as I do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was hoping I was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe you and Pa can go when the weather clears,\u201d Joe suggested, as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cHmpf! With MY kinda luck lately . . . by the time the weather clears, Miss Ashcroft\u2019ll be over her cold . . . flu . . . or whatever it is she\u2019s got, and I\u2019ll be back in school,\u201d Stacy said with a melancholy sigh.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve got an idea . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAfter breakfast, why don\u2019t we g\u2019won up to the attic and root around?\u201d Joe suggested. \u201cWe\u2019ve always had fun doing that on rainy days, and it\u2019s been awhile\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo thanks,\u201d Stacy sadly shook her head. \u201cSorry, I\u2019m being such a wet blanket\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n Joe smiled at her choice of words, unable to help himself.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s NOT funny!\u201d she said, favoring the youngest of her three older brothers with a dark scowl.<\/p>\n \u201cI know, Kiddo . . . and I\u2019m sorry,\u201d Joe said, as he endeavored to wipe the smile off his face.<\/p>\n \u201cI was really looking forward to getting OUTSIDE today . . . . \u201d All of a sudden, her face brightened. \u201cYou . . . think maybe you could come out to the barn with me and watch while I muck out the stalls or something?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell ya what, Stace . . . how about I give you a hand with mucking out the stalls?\u201d Joe offered. \u201cThat\u2019ll give us time to give Cooch and Blaze Face a good brushing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSounds good to me, Grandpa,\u201d Stacy declared, as a big bright smile cleared away all traces of the keen disappointment, so evident a moment before.<\/p>\n Joe grinned. \u201cLast one out to the barn\u2019s a rotten egg,\u201d he declared.<\/p>\n \u201cHey! I\u2019m not even dressed yet!\u201d Stacy protested.<\/p>\n \u201cNeither am I! See ya!\u201d Joe tore across the room, beating a straight path toward the door.<\/p>\n Stacy slammed the door shut behind her brother, then bolted across the room toward her dresser, pulling off her nightshirt as she ran. A few moments later, Joe and Stacy burst from their bedrooms into the hall running as fast as their legs could carry them. The former labored valiantly to button his shirt as he ran, while the latter furiously tucked her shirt into her denim pants.<\/p>\n \u201cHey! You\u2019re not finished getting dressed,\u201d Joe protested, as he buttoned the last two buttons.<\/p>\n \u201cIf I\u2019M not, YOU\u2019RE not,\u201d Stacy countered, as she finished tucking in her shirt.<\/p>\n \u201cCheater!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI am NOT!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY\u2019 are so!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAm not!\u201d<\/p>\n Paris opened the door of her room, as Joe and Stacy raced by in their mad, desperate bid to reach the top of the stairs first. \u201cWhat . . . in the world . . . . ?!\u201d she murmured softly.<\/p>\n Joe and Stacy, meanwhile, plunged headlong down the steps. Upon reaching the landing where the staircase turned, Stacy darted in front of Joe, grabbing the inside track.<\/p>\n \u201cHey!\u201d Joe immediately protested. \u201cNo fair!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cALL\u2019S fair, Grandpa,\u201d Stacy smugly returned, as she continued down the stairs.<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, we\u2019ll just see about that, Little Sister,\u201d Joe declared, as he leapt over the remaining four steps with all the power and grace of a cat springing upon its prey. He literally hit the floor running a few feet in front of his sister.<\/p>\n \u201cHEY! NO FAIR!\u201d Stacy cried out, astonished and outraged, as she jumped over the last two steps.<\/p>\n \u201cYOU\u2019RE the one who said all\u2019s fair, Kid,\u201d Joe laughed, as he sprinted across the short distance that remained between the spot where he had landed and the front door.<\/p>\n Stacy gritted her teeth and poured on the speed.<\/p>\n \u201cForget it, Stace! I\u2019ve as good as got this race all sewn up,\u201d Joe taunted, as his sister began to close the gap.<\/p>\n \u201cYou haven\u2019t won yet, Grandpa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat th—?!\u201d Ben murmured softly, his eyes round with amazement, as he entered from the dining room with coffee cup in hand.<\/p>\n Joe, upon reaching the front door half a dozen steps ahead of Stacy, grabbed hold of the latch and threw it open. He ran out onto the front porch with his sister following right at his heels. At the edge of the porch, both of them leapt, and within less than the space of a heartbeat, found themselves slamming hard into what felt like the side of a great big mountain.<\/p>\n \u201cHEY!\u201d the mountain bellowed, as Joe and Stacy barreled into him with force sufficient to literally knock him right off his feet. The three of them landed with a sickening splat in the middle of the wet, muddy yard.<\/p>\n Joe slowly rolled over from his stomach onto his side. \u201cBig Brother . . . y\u2019 know . . . you really ought to watch where WE\u2019RE going,\u201d he chastised Hoss in tones of mock outrage.<\/p>\n Hoss groaned. Then, as Joe\u2019s words began to sink in, his eyes snapped wide open. \u201cNow just a dadburned cotton pickin\u2019 minute there, Li\u2019l Brother . . . just what, exactly, do y\u2019 mean by I gotta watch where you \u2018n Li\u2019l Sister here are goin\u2019?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDidn\u2019t you see us jumping off the porch?!\u201d Joe demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Hoss said curtly, \u201c \u2018cause I just got through workin\u2019 me up a big appetite, \u2018n all I could think of is divin\u2019 right into a great big breakfast o\u2019 scrambled eggs \u2018n sausage as only Hop Sing can fix it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did you do to work up such a big appetite?\u201d Stacy asked, as she rolled over onto her side, then sat up.<\/p>\n \u201cAww . . . it doesn\u2019t take much for HIM to work up a big appetite,\u201d Joe teased. \u201cAll HE\u2019S gotta do is open his eyes in the morning and sit up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVery funny, Li\u2019l Brother,\u201d Hoss growled, as he raised himself up onto his elbows. \u201cWhere were t\u2019 pair o\u2019 you rushin\u2019 off to in such an all fired hurry anyhow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe were going out to the barn to muck out the stalls and\u2014 \u201d Stacy began.<\/p>\n \u201cYou mean t\u2019 tell me that the two o\u2019 YOU were racin\u2019 t\u2019 beat all . . . just so you could do barn chores?!\u201d Hoss demanded, scowling over at his brother first, then at his sister.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Joe replied, feeling oddly on the defensive. \u201cAnything WRONG with that?!\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss threw back his head and roared, drawing bewildered looks from his younger siblings. Joe and Stacy looked over at each other, anxiously at first. Joe felt the hard tug of a smile pulling at the edge of his mouth, and glancing over at his sister, saw her smiling and shaking her head. He shook his head, too, and began to laugh. Upon hearing Joe\u2019s high pitched, rapid fire giggles, rising up over Hoss\u2019 deep, basso profundo guffaws like a descant over the melody of a song, Stacy allowed herself to be drawn in. It felt so good to just let go and laugh, it mattered not one little bit that she had no idea what the joke was.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . I n-never . . . not in all m\u2019 b-born days . . . EVER . . . thought I\u2019d s-see the day when t\u2019 two o\u2019 YOU\u2019D b-be s-so . . . so dad blamed anxious t\u2019 . . . t\u2019 . . . t\u2019 d-do barn chores so early in t\u2019 mornin\u2019,\u201d Hoss said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes as his laughter, at long last, finally began to subside.<\/p>\n This pronouncement brought a fresh round of laughter from Joe and Stacy.<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing just live long enough to see great miracle,\u201d Hop Sing declared, shaking his head. He stood framed square in the middle of the open door, watching, bemused and anxious while the three younger Cartwright offspring rolled around in the mud and the pouring rain, laughing themselves silly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat miracle is that, Hop Sing?\u201d Paris asked, as she stepped down off the last step, with Ben\u2019s help.<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing know . . . for very long time . . . day when Mister Hoss, Little Joe, and Missy Stacy fight over who muck horse stall first . . . same day hot afterlife turn very, very cold,\u201d the Chinese man declared with a broad grin. \u201cToday, it finally happen.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris laughed out loud.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d better get out there and drag the lot of \u2018em in before they end up catching their death,\u201d Ben grumbled, as he turned and strode briskly toward the door.<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing get Miss Paris coffee, then boil water for hot bath,\u201d Hop Sing said, then turned, and started out toward the kitchen, his dark brown, almost black eyes twinkling with amusement . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cSorry that fishin\u2019 trip you \u2018n Pa planned got rained on,\u201d Hoss said quietly, as he reached for the bowl of steaming hot scrambled eggs, when the family and their guest sat down to a late breakfast an hour and a half later.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah . . . me, too,\u201d Stacy murmured with a glum sigh, as she cast a disparaging glare over in the direction of the window.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe things will clear up by this afternoon,\u201d Paris suggested with a hopeful smile, as she took the bowl of eggs from Hoss.<\/p>\n Stacy shook her head. \u201cIt won\u2019t,\u201d she said. \u201cFrom the looks of things . . . that rain won\u2019t stop until sometime Monday or Tuesday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow can you be so sure?\u201d Paris asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI just know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid The Kid\u2019s right,\u201d Joe said, as he and Hoss reached for the meat platter, generously piled with fried ham and sausage. \u201cThat rain\u2019s definitely gonna go on for the next two or three days.\u201d He looked over and caught Stacy\u2019s eye. \u201cWe can still go up to the attic and root around it you want.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAFTER the two of ya get through with the laundry,\u201d Ben said firmly, casting a sharp glance over at Joe first, then at Stacy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Stacy said, trying hard not to smile as she remembered again the fracas a short while ago in the rain and the mud.<\/p>\n \u201cSure thing, Pa,\u201d Joe replied.<\/p>\n \u201cPa . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow I can understand you thinkin\u2019 it ain\u2019t fair for Hop Sing t\u2019 be havin\u2019 t\u2019 wash all our muddy clothes,\u201d Hoss protested, as he helped himself to sausage and bacon from the meat platter. \u201cBut I don\u2019t think it\u2019s fair to make Joe \u2018n Stacy wash MY clothes, too. What happened was an accident, Pa . . . pure \u2018n simple.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTrue. What happened WAS an accident, Son,\u201d Ben readily agreed, \u201cHOWEVER, it was an accident that wouldn\u2019t have happened, if your younger brother and sister hadn\u2019t been in too much of a hurry to watch where they were going.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAww, I know that, but . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo buts,\u201d Ben said firmly. \u201cWe ALL know the house rules, Hoss . . . and the FIRST of those rules is . . . you MESS it up . . . you CLEAN it up.\u201d He turned to his two younger children. \u201cRight?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s right, Pa,\u201d Joe replied, with a mouth full of scrambled eggs and toast.<\/p>\n Stacy nodded.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . I WAS going to ask if it might be possible for me to attend church tomorrow, but . . . from what Joe and Stacy tell me, it\u2019s going to be raining until at least Monday or Tuesday,\u201d Paris said quietly, as her eyes drifted over toward the window.<\/p>\n \u201cMore \u2018n likely,\u201d Ben agreed. \u201cParis . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you really have your heart set on going to church tomorrow, we\u2019ll see that you get there, but to be up front and honest, if the weather tomorrow IS the same as now, I don\u2019t think your venturing out would be a very good idea,\u201d Ben said candidly.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d Paris reluctantly admitted.<\/p>\n \u201cSaint Mary\u2019s has a Mass on Wednesday mornin\u2019s, Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss said, as he eagerly dug into the big breakfast on the plate set before him. \u201cThis rain oughtta be cleared out by then for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen?\u201d Paris queried hopefully.<\/p>\n \u201cIF the weather clears . . . AND if school\u2019s back in session,\u201d Ben replied. \u201cIf Miss Ashcroft hasn\u2019t recovered from that bout of cold, I already have a previous commitment.\u201d He punctuated his words with a meaningful, pointed glance at his daughter.<\/p>\n Stacy smiled at her father, and nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, of course,\u201d Paris said very quietly. \u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Eric?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf Pa can\u2019t take ya on Wednesday, I\u2019d be more than happy to,\u201d Hoss offered.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you for your generous offer, but I don\u2019t want to put you to a whole lot of trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo trouble at all, Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss hastened to reassure her. \u201cHappy t\u2019 do it.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Roy Coffee sat behind the bank manager\u2019s desk in a small cubbyhole of a room, barely measuring ten feet by ten feet, reading over the bank\u2019s copy of the statement for an account belonging to one George Edwards, better known to the folks in and around Virginia City as Eddie Jones.<\/p>\n \u201cNow this is damned peculiar . . . . \u201d Roy muttered very softly.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . uhhh, something . . . wrong, Sheriff Coffee?\u201d Felix Dorsey, a thin, wiry young man with a nervous disposition, inquired. He had been working as a bank teller for the better part of the last couple of years.<\/p>\n \u201cAny reason why the money Mister Jones deposited on a Friday was withdrawn the followin\u2019 Monday mornin\u2019?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . GUESS it\u2019d be alright to tell you . . . what with M-Mister Jones, ummm . . . being dead \u2018n all . . . . \u201d Felix murmured, wringing his hands. \u201cHe . . . left instructions to wire that money to someone . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan y\u2019 gimme a NAME, Mister Dorsey?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir . . . I can, but I\u2019ve umm . . . gotta check the records.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you g\u2019won \u2018n do that?\u201d Roy blithely suggested. \u201cI\u2019ll be right here waitin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir . . . I\u2019ll be right back . . . . \u201d A few moments later, Felix returned with a sheet of paper clasped tightly in hand. \u201cHere it is, Sheriff Coffee. Mister Jones\u2019 instructions to wire his deposits to a Miss Janelle McClelland in care of Miss Kitty Russell, Long Branch Saloon.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLong Branch Saloon?\u201d Roy echoed with a puzzled frown. \u201cWhere \u2018n the heck is THAT?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSomewhere out in Kansas, I think . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cDodge City,\u201d George Ellis, the telegraph operator told Roy.<\/p>\n \u201cYou got any idea as t\u2019 who this Miss McClelland was t\u2019 Eddie Jones . . . or why he sent her nearly every sent he made?\u201d Roy asked.<\/p>\n George shook his head. \u201cRoy?\u201d he ventured.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it, George?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI got a wire here . . . addressed to some fella named George Edwards in care o\u2019 Eddie Jones,\u201d George said. \u201cIt\u2019s from the Miss Russell in whose care I wired all money for Miss McClelland. What with Eddie bein\u2019 dead, I s\u2019pose I oughtta give it t\u2019 you.\u201d He reached into the right hand drawer of his desk and withdrew and envelope with Eddie Jones written on its face.<\/p>\n Roy took the proffered envelope and immediately opened it. The message was brief and to the point: Regret to inform you of Lucy\u2019s death last night [stop] Funeral three days [stop]<\/p>\n My condolences [stop]<\/p>\n K. Russell \u201cYes, Roy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want ya t\u2019 send a wire t\u2019 Miss Janelle McClelland in care o\u2019 Miss Kitty Russell at t\u2019 Long Branch Saloon . . . Dodge City, Kansas,\u201d Roy said.<\/p>\n George immediately grabbed a scrap piece of paper and a stubby pencil from his desk. \u201cHere y\u2019 are, Roy . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n The sheriff nodded his thanks and scribbled out the following message in short order:<\/p>\n \u201cRegret to inform you of George Edward\u2019s death three days ago. Burial two days ago. Are you his next of kin? Please let me know. My sincere condolences. Roy Coffee, sheriff, Virginia City.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy quickly read his intended message over, then handed it to George. \u201cSend this as soon as ya can,\u201d he ordered. \u201cIf \u2018n when ya get a reply, bring it t\u2019 my office.\u201d<\/p>\n George nodded. \u201cThat\u2019ll be two dollars, Roy.\u201d<\/p>\n Roy reached into his pants pocket and drew out three coins: two silver dollars and a fifty-cent piece. \u201cThis\u2019ll cover the cost o\u2019 sendin\u2019 that wire . . . \u2018n there\u2019s a little somethin\u2019 for your trouble, too,\u201d he said as he placed the coins in George\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Zachary Hilliard turned away from the window, overlooking the narrow, garbage strewn alley between the backs of the buildings facing out toward B and C Streets, and with a yawn, shuffled across the room toward the bed, set against the wall, directly opposite. He strongly suspected it had been made with a child in mind, given its narrowness across and that its length was roughly twelve inches too short for a man of his height. Its straw stuffed mattress was lumpy, and sagged in the middle. Upon reaching the bed, he turned and collapsed with a soft, agonized groan as aching hip and knee joints protested to the abrupt landing with sharp jabs of pain.<\/p>\n Today, Zachary Hilliard felt every bit as old and decrepit as his alter ego, the drifter, Bill Taylor. He had not washed or dressed, despite the lateness of the hour. Every joint in his body ached . . . . \u201cArthritis?!\u201d he exclaimed, incredulous. He had always thought that to be an affliction of the elderly. Granted he was no \u201cyoung spring chicken,\u201d as his maternal grandmother might have indelicately put it. But, even so, he could hardly be thought of as old.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c . . . comes of all that time spent outside . . . in all kinds of weather . . . not eating right . . . not taking care o\u2019 yourself proper,\u201d the doctor explained. \u201cSeen it all too much in men comin\u2019 home from the battlefields.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWhat can be done?\u201d he demanded, angry and outraged.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t be cured, if that\u2019s what you\u2019re askin\u2019,\u201d the doctor said bluntly. \u201cMain thing is ya gotta keep movin\u2019 no matter what. If ya DON\u2019T move, those joints\u2019ll stiffen right up . . . and when they do . . . . \u201d The doctor\u2019s voice trailed off to an ominous silence. \u201cYou might also try settin\u2019 up housekeepin\u2019 out where the climate\u2019s drier,\u201d he had added, as an after thought. \u201cSome folks tend to suffer more when the weather\u2019s damp . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Perhaps . . . after the captain\u2019s mission was over and done . . . he would head off to Arizona, New Mexico, or perhaps southern California, put down roots, and settle down. The Lord Above knew there was nothing left for him in New York anymore . . . .<\/p>\n He cast a quick, furtive glance over toward the closed door to his room, then turned to the nightstand beside his bed and, with trembling hands, eased the small drawer under the table top open. Inside, a small Bible lay over top three handkerchiefs, all clean and neatly folded. The small, well-used tome had belonged to his mother and his grandmother before him.<\/p>\n \u201cThe captain would have a conniption fit if he knew,<\/em>\u201d he mused in uneasy silence as he absent-mindedly moved his thumb across the worn leather cover.<\/p>\n Should the tiny book, now resting so tenderly sandwiched between his hands, ever fall into the hands of the Cartwright family or that nosy sheriff, heaven forbid, Bill Taylor\u2019s cover would be blown sky high the minute they opened the book. His parents\u2019 names and the date they married were written on the inside of the front cover in his late grandmother\u2019s neat, precise hand. His mother had also written down his name, and the names of his siblings on the back cover, along with their birth dates. It was the last gift his mother had given him, the night he left home for the military academy in Westpoint, New York . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cMay the words that lie between the covers of this tiny book bring you comfort, Son,\u201d<\/em> his mother said, while trying valiantly to hold back her tears. She placed it in his hands and very gently curled his fingers around it. \u201cMany\u2019s the time your grandmother and I have come to this book for solace during OUR times of trial . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Samuel Yates entered, with David Matthews following close behind. After David had quietly closed the door, both young men saluted crisply. Zachary returned the salute, trying hard not to grimace in the face of the pain in his shoulders and his back.<\/p>\n \u201cAt ease, Gentlemen,\u201d Zachary ordered. He paused just long enough to allow them to relax before turning his attention to David. \u201cMy aide tells me you have a message from the captain?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d David replied with a curt nod of his head. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a blue-gray envelope, with \u201cLt. Z. Hilliard\u201d penned on its face in John McKenna\u2019s painfully neat, precise hand. \u201cI was ordered to hand deliver this to you personally, Lieutenant Hilliard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoes the captain expect an immediate reply?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat being the case, Private Matthews . . . you\u2019re dismissed,\u201d Zachary said curtly.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir.\u201d David saluted again, then left.<\/p>\n Samuel Yates waited until the sounds of David\u2019s footfalls in the corridor beyond had faded away to silence. \u201cLieutenant, are you uhh . . . is, ummm . . . is everything well, Sir?\u201d he queried, noting with concern the dark circles under Lieutenant Hilliard\u2019s eyes, his deathly pale complexion, and that he still wore his nightshirt and robe.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Private . . . everything is well,\u201d Zachary replied. \u201cIs there anything else?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou may go.\u201d<\/p>\n Samuel saluted, then turned heel and walked out, closing the door behind him.<\/p>\n Zachary opened the envelope in hand, as he turned and made his way back across the room to the bed. Inside was a note, brief and to the point, hand written on a single sheet of stationary that matched the envelope.<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Lieutenant Hilliard,\u2019 \u201d Zachary read the note aloud. \u201c \u2018You are hereby ordered to present yourself before your commanding officer for questioning this afternoon at two thirty sharp . . . signed John McKenna, captain, U.S. Army, now retired.\u2019 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDamn!\u201d he swore vehemently. \u201cDamn, damn, damn, DAMN!\u201d This had to be about the loose end Corporal Deveraux had so carelessly left dangling . . . .<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and bungled so thoroughly in trying to tie it up,\u201d<\/em> Zachary silently ruminated. An overzealous member of their unit had beat him to the punch after all in reporting the entire incident to the captain. \u201cJed Matthews, damn his hide!\u201d he grumbled under his breath. It had to be. He was the only one among them with free and easy access to the sheriff\u2019s office.<\/p>\n His rising anger and resentment toward the corporal and drummer boy, coupled with dread at the prospect of having to answer to the captain for the unfortunate affair within the next couple of hours, set his stomach churning. He opened the nightstand drawer, from which he had taken his mother\u2019s Bible a short time before, and extracted the silver plated flask, etched with his late father\u2019s initials, lying at the very back of the drawer.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . something ELSE the captain would have a conniption fit over if he knew,\u201d<\/em> Zachary sardonically ruminated, as he deftly unscrewed the cap, \u201cwhat with him being the strict teetotaler he is these days . . . . \u201d He lifted the opened flask, filled almost to the brim with fine brandy, in mock salute. \u201cCheers,\u201d he muttered under his breath. He, then, brought the flask to his lips and gulped down a generous dose.<\/p>\n He found comfort not so much in the words contained therein, but rather in its connection to his family . . . his mother and father . . . his four sisters and two brothers . . . his nieces and nephews . . . the way they had all been in happier times, before the war set brother against brother, and had the rest of the family choosing sides.<\/p>\n The loud, insistent pounding against the fast closed door to his room drew him from his melancholy reverie. \u201cYes? Who is it?\u201d Zachary responded warily.<\/p>\n \u201cPrivate Yates, Sir. Private David Matthews is here with an urgent message from the captain. He told me that he\u2019s been given strict orders to deliver it to you in person.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOne moment, please,\u201d Zachary replied. He shoved the Bible under his pillow, then rose stiffly to his feet, gritting his teeth against an outcry of pain. \u201cCome in,\u201d he invited after taking a moment to straighten his bathrobe and smooth down his uncombed hair.<\/p>\n John McKenna sat before the cold fireplace in the largest room on the second floor of a ramshackle dwelling, set along a narrow alleyway between C and D Streets amid a dozen or so other abodes, all in similar states of disrepair. Officially it had no name, though many of the locals referred to it as Blood Alley. He was impeccably attired in a pair of gray wool pants, a freshly laundered white shirt with black string tie, a heavy, quilted smoking jacket of satin, hued a deep, rich burgundy, and a pair of soft leather slippers, stained dark brown.<\/p>\n His bad leg ached terribly, consequence, no doubt, of the torrential downpour outside and the accompanying wet chill in the air that permeated deep down into the very marrow of his bones. For a brief moment, he gave serious thought to asking Private David Matthews to fetch in an armload of wood and lay a fire in the fireplace before him. \u201cNo,\u201d he sighed very softly, discarding the idea in very short order. The danger of setting the house on fire was too great, thanks to crumbling bricks and mortar.<\/p>\n The Bible on John\u2019s lap had lain open to the same page for the better part of the last thirty minutes. He turned away from the cold, empty fireplace and tried to focus his attention once again on the open book before him. His eyes dropped down onto the page, but he saw none of the words. His mind, in the words of his stern fourth grade teacher, wasn\u2019t \u201con cloud nine . . . it\u2019s on cloud NINETY-nine,\u201d racing a mile a minute.<\/p>\n His original plan was to simply kill the girl and be done with it. That had changed, however, upon learning that she had been adopted by Ben Cartwright, irony upon delicious ironies. The revised plan called for abducting the girl and spiriting her away . . . FAR away . . . so far away, her father and brothers wouldn\u2019t have a snowball\u2019s chance in hell of ever finding her, no matter how hard they tried. With a little encouragement on his part, the girl would have very quickly abandoned all hope of her family ever finding and rescuing her.<\/p>\n \u201cAfter that, I\u2019d have given her one week . . . TWO, maybe, at the very outside,\u201d<\/em> John silently mused. A smug, triumphant smile slowly eased its way across his lips, and his eyes glittered with an unholy, malicious delight, as he envisioned the unfolding of the next phase in his plan in vivid detail. \u201cWhen it dawned on her that her family WON\u2019T be coming to her rescue . . . turning her against them, her father especially, would have been easier than taking candy from a baby.\u201d<\/em> His smile broadened, and he began to chuckle very softly. \u201cWhat a glorious sight THAT would have been, seeing the look on Ben Cartwright\u2019s face day he found out the long, lost daughter he and his sons had long ago given up for dead, not only hates his guts, but intends to kill him.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n A few moments later, John McKenna\u2019s grim mirth abruptly evaporated. \u201cTime . . . . \u201d he murmured, his voice soft and wistful. \u201cI had so much time . . . all the time in the world . . . until Divine Providence saw fit to hand me my dear . . . sweet . . . loving . . . sister . . . . \u201d Those last words were uttered through clenched teeth and rigid jaw. If only there was a way to find out for certain how long Paris intended to stay with the Cartwrights without raising suspicion . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cIf only . . . if only . . . if only . . . . \u201d he murmured again, as he wracked his brains, desperately seeking an answer.<\/p>\n A knock on the door, discrete yet insistent, drew John from his grim, troubled musings. He deftly slipped the bright cherry red ribbon between the pages to mark his place, then closed his Bible. \u201cYes?\u201d he queried, as he turned and placed the Bible on the table beside his chair. \u201cWho is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPrivate David Matthews, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n John frowned. \u201cState your business, Private,\u201d he ordered.<\/p>\n \u201cSir, Lieutenant Hilliard is waiting downstairs, as ordered,\u201d David replied.<\/p>\n John reached into the inside pocket of his smoking jacket and extracted the watch that had belonged to his father. It was one of the few items that had survived the fire that claimed the lives of his parents and two younger sisters. He flipped up the cover, engraved with the initials of his father, Gerald McKenna, and stole a quick glance at the watch face. The time was two-thirty, exactly. \u201cThe lieutenant is prompt if nothing else,\u201d<\/em> he sardonically observed in silence. He set the watch on top of his Bible, then rose stiffly to his feet, trying his best not to wince. \u201cPrivate Matthews, please escort Lieutenant Hilliard in immediately,\u201d he ordered crisply.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n A moment later, the door opened. Zachary Hilliard entered the room first, with David Matthews following at a respectful distance. David paused just long enough to noiselessly close the door before taking his place alongside the lieutenant. The two men immediately saluted, their crisp, precise movements in perfect unison.<\/p>\n \u201cLieutenant Hilliard reporting as ordered, Sir,\u201d Zachary greeted his commanding officer in a wooden monotone.<\/p>\n John returned the salute. \u201cThank you, Private Matthews,\u201d he said quietly, turning his full attention to the younger of the two men standing at attention in the center of the room. \u201cYou may return to your post.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d David acknowledged the order, then turned heel and strode toward the door moving at a brisk, yet decorous pace.<\/p>\n After the young man had left the room, John turned and began to pace in front of the fireplace very slowly, his limp agonizingly pronounced.<\/p>\n Zachary swallowed nervously. The captain pacing as he did now, with that slow, carefully measured gait, with head bowed and hands loosely clasped behind his back, seemingly oblivious to everything around him, was always a bad sign . . . a VERY bad sign. The churning butterflies in his stomach began to slow and coalesce, forming a cold, heavy lead weight. He shuddered.<\/p>\n John continued to pace, non-stop, for what seemed a dreadful eternity. A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional soft whisper of halting footfalls.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . uhhh, Captain?\u201d Zachary finally ventured, with fear and trembling, unable to bear the unsettling quiet any longer. \u201cWhat—?!\u201d<\/p>\n John abruptly halted his pacing mid-stride. \u201cI DON\u2019T recall giving you permission to speak, Lieutenant,\u201d he reprimanded in a tone of voice insultingly condescending, \u201cand you ARE at attention.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary immediately straightened his posture, and sucked in his stomach. His face, schooled now into an impassive mask, effectively concealed his ire at having been chastised by his captain just now in the same manner he would have an ignorant bumbling, cadet of limited intelligence.<\/p>\n \u201cIt has come to my attention, Lieutenant Hilliard, that the man you and Corporal Deveraux hired to kill the Cartwright girl, was himself found dead a few days ago,\u201d John at length began, speaking in a deathly calm tone of voice. \u201cIs this true?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir . . . . \u201d Zachary replied warily, as wave upon intensifying wave of nausea swept over him. He half feared he was going to lapse into a spasm of dry heaves at any moment.<\/p>\n \u201cHow did Private Edwards die, Lieutenant?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI, uhhh, what I, ummm, m-mean to say, Sir . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n John once again ceased his pacing, and glanced up sharply. For a moment, he stood, unmoving, staring balefully at Zachary, through eyes wide open to their full limit, with the unblinking, intense gaze of a cobra about to strike. \u201cLieutenant. Hilliard.\u201d he said, his calm, mild tone of voice an unsettling contrast against the dreadful inferno raging within, barely contained in his face and rigid body, now beginning to tremble. \u201cI asked you a simple question . . . I expect a simple, straight forward answer. Surely even YOU can manage that.\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. \u201cI don\u2019t know . . . exactly . . . how Private Edwards died, Sir,\u201d he replied, astonished at how calm and even his own voice sounded. \u201cI left the matter entirely to Corporal Deveraux\u2019s discretion.\u201d<\/p>\n John began to pace again, this time moving in a half circle around the man standing at attention in the center of the room, with his eyes glued to Zachary\u2019s face. His gait was slow and awkward. \u201cYou . . . left . . . the matter . . . ENTIRELY . . . to Corporal Deveraux\u2019s discretion,\u201d he echoed Zachary\u2019s reply very slowly, enunciating every word, every syllable clearly and precisely.<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir,\u201d Zachary replied, flinching away from the malevolent glare on his captain\u2019s face.<\/p>\n \u201cFor your information, Sir . . . Private Edwards was executed, in the same manner executions are carried out upon the field of battle. Private JED Matthews learned of this when he last cleaned the sheriff\u2019s office,\u201d John confirmed Zachary\u2019s suspicions in the same bland tone of voice most people might use in speaking of mundane things, like the weather. \u201cI find it interesting . . . most interesting indeed . . . that a mere private was aware of this and YOU, my supposed right hand, were not.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSir, I . . . I, uhhh— \u201d<\/p>\n John McKenna silenced him with a curt gesture. \u201cAm I correct in assuming that you ORDERED Corporal Deveraux to kill Private Edwards?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI HAD to, Sir! I had no other choice in the matter . . . none at all!\u201d The words tumbled out of Zachary Hilliard\u2019s mouth, one after the other, in a mad, panic stricken rush. \u201cHe . . . P-Private Edwards . . . Sir, he told me he was going to— \u201d<\/p>\n John again ceased his pacing. \u201cLieutenant Hilliard, I asked you a question that requires but a SIMPLE reply of yes . . . or no,\u201d he said, his voice dropping slightly in pitch and volume.<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir,\u201d Zachary replied.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPrivate Edwards told me if I didn\u2019t abort this mission AND pay him ten thousand dollars, he was going to the sheriff and confess everything, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbort this mission? That\u2019s very interesting,\u201d John murmured softly, speaking more to himself than to the other man present, still standing at rigid attention. \u201cVery interesting indeed!\u201d He abruptly stopped his pacing and glanced up sharply. \u201cWhy?\u201d he snapped.<\/p>\n \u201cHe told me th-that . . . while he had no qualms about killing m-men . . . he . . . h-he drew the line at . . . at women and children,\u201d Zachary replied.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and the greedy son-of-a-bitch had the gall to demand a payment of ten thousand dollars as well!\u201d John grumbled, contemptuous yet awed, not only by the late private\u2019s sheer audacity, but of the shrewdness and courage he had shown in seizing hold of opportunity when it presented itself.<\/p>\n John resumed his pacing before the fireplace, his bodily movements more fluid and even, his limp less pronounced. \u201cAt that juncture, you should have sent Private Edwards to me directly . . . OR, at the very least, apprised me of the situation. Why did you not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSir, I . . . I, ummm, thought— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou THOUGHT?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, uhh . . . yes, Sir, I— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLieutenant Hilliard, the Holy Scriptures state unequivocally that we are to obey those in authority over us in all matters WITHOUT question, do they not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir,\u201d Zachary replied warily. Apart from the Ten Commandments and a handful of Bible stories told him by his mother and maternal grandmother as a child, he was wholly ignorant of what lay between the front and back covers of the Holy Scriptures to which his captain had just referred.<\/p>\n \u201cThen you should know that your job is NOT to think,\u201d John said in a lofty, condescending tone of voice. \u201cTHAT is MY job and MY job alone!\u201d He paused to allow Zachary a moment to absorb and perhaps ponder on the import of his words. \u201cYOUR job, Lieutenant Hilliard, is and always has been to obey my lawful orders without pause or question, and to keep me informed on all matters.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Sir,\u201d Zachary murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of guilty regret and abject fear. \u201cI . . . I\u2019m sorry, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you aware that Private Edwards\u2019 body was found lying just off the road in a field half way between Virginia City and the Ponderosa . . . by Ben Cartwright, of all people, and one of his men?\u201d John queried.<\/p>\n \u201cI knew that his body was found in that meadow, Sir,\u201d Zachary replied. A deathly calm began to steal over him. His racing heart began to slow, and his body, particularly his hands ceased their trembling. The nebulous cold in the pit of his stomach began to solidify and spread through out his entire being. \u201cThough I had my suspicions that Ben Cartwright had found the body, I did not know for sure . . . until now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and how, Sir, did you happen to come by THAT information?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI knew that the private had been murdered, and that someone had found his body lying in that meadow half way between here and the Ponderosa when the sheriff came to question Bill Taylor— \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe . . . WHAT?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe sheriff questioned Bill Taylor about Private Edwards\u2019 murder, Sir,\u201d Zachary replied, with the fatalistic aplomb of the utterly hopeless, coming to terms with whatever grim destiny The Fates might have in store. \u201cBill Taylor was in a poker game with Private Edwards a day or two before his demise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen he\u2019s not a suspect?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir, I\u2019m reasonably sure he\u2019s not.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank Heaven for small mercies,\u201d John remarked acerbically. \u201cHow did you come to SUSPECT that Ben Cartwright was the one who found the private\u2019s body?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCertain facts in Sergeant Collier\u2019s report— \u201d Zachary replied.<\/p>\n \u201cSergeant Collier,\u201d John murmured softly. His stride gradually lengthened, and his limp had all but disappeared. \u201cIt amazes me no end how Jed Matthews, a lowly private . . . and Jeff Collier, a non-commissioned officer are so knowledgeable, whilst my second in command is wholly ignorant of everything that\u2019s going on around him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you have anything ELSE to report, Lieutenant?\u201d<\/p>\n Zachary opened his mouth with every intention of lying to the man, who, for so many years, had been confidant and friend, as well as his immediate superior officer. \u201cHe KNOWS,\u201d<\/em> every instinct within silently screamed, \u201cCaptain McKenna already knows.\u201d If THAT were the case, then deliberately withholding information would make an already horrendous situation infinitely worse.<\/p>\n Zachary closed his eyes, and took a deep, ragged breath. He, then, launched into a full report of the correspondence that the local sheriff and the Cartwrights had almost certainly found among Private Edwards\u2019 personal effects . . . correspondence that directly implicated himself and Corporal Deveraux, in a calm, detached tone of voice.<\/p>\n For a long time after, John McKenna said nothing. He remained where he stood, as if his legs and feet had suddenly taken root, his body rigid, his face flushed, staring over at the man he had so often in the past described as his right hand, through eyes Zachary half feared were going to explode right out of their sockets.<\/p>\n \u201cSoooo-oooooo help me, Lieutenant . . . . \u201d the captain finally spoke, in a tight voice just above the decibel of the softest whisper. \u201cSo . . . HELP . . . me . . . if YOUR bumbling incompetence results in my having to ABORT this mission\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Sir,\u201d Zachary replied, his voice wholly devoid of all feelings and emotion. \u201cWe will NOT have to abort. On that you have my solemn word, as an officer and a gentleman.\u201d<\/p>\n John abruptly turned and screamed for his eldest daughter to fetch in his riding crop. The girl entered less than a moment later, carrying the crop clutched in both hands, her face as white as the tattered nightgown she always wore. She warily approached her father, and keeping a respectful distance, held out the riding crop in the same manner a supplicant offers up a sacrifice to whatever god or gods he worships.<\/p>\n The captain snatched the crop from the frightened girl\u2019s hands, and dismissed her with a curt nod of his head. She pivoted and fled noiselessly across the floor to the door that opened into this room, and quickly let herself out.<\/p>\n \u201cLieutenant . . . remove your shirt,\u201d the captain ordered, in that terrible dead pan tone of voice, his entire body now trembling with a rage the like of which Zachary had never, ever seen before . . . .<\/p>\n . . . and, he hoped to God, would never, ever see again.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Wednesday morning dawned with clear skies and bright sunshine. High overhead, the branches of the of the tall, straight ponderosa pines surrounding the Cartwrights\u2019 ranch house, swayed and danced to the rhythm of the gentle breezes, weaving their way amongst them. There was a damp chill in the morning air, consequence of the heavy rains over the last three days coupled with Old Man Winter\u2019s last hurrah before making his final, inevitable surrender to the approaching warmth of spring.<\/p>\n Joe stood before the unshuttered dining room window, gazing out upon the magnificent vista of mountain, sky, and forest beyond. \u201cYep . . . . \u201d he murmured softly, his lips curving upward to form a contemplative smile. \u201cNo doubt about it . . . this is gonna be a great day for going fishing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt sure is, Grandpa,\u201d Stacy agreed wholeheartedly, as she took her place at the table. \u201cI can\u2019t wait.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLittle Joe come away from window,\u201d Hop Sing sternly admonished the youngest of Ben Cartwright\u2019s sons. \u201cLittle Joe sit down, eat. Eat while food still hot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cComing,\u201d Joe replied with a wry roll of his eyes, grinning from ear-to-ear.<\/p>\n Hop Sing\u2019s eyes moved around the table, from one face to the next, as he set two plates of steaming hot flapjacks down in front of Ben first, then Hoss. \u201cWhere Missy Paris?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m right here, Hop Sing,\u201d Paris replied as she made her way from the bottom step to the dining room table. This morning she wore her navy blue suit and a plain white linen blouse.<\/p>\n Hop Sing favored Paris with a broad grin, as she seated herself in the chair at the foot of the table. \u201cAh . . . good!\u201d he declared with a satisfied nod of his head for emphasis. \u201cVery, very good. Soon Missy Paris fit her clothes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmpf! If I keep eating like this for too much longer, I\u2019ll have to go on a diet to make sure I keep right on fitting into my clothes,\u201d Paris retorted with a smile.<\/p>\n \u201cMissy not need worry about that!\u201d Hop Sing immediately returned. \u201cNot now, not for long time yet.\u201d With that, he abruptly turned heel and sauntered back toward the kitchen.<\/p>\n \u201cEric, I really appreciate you taking me to Mass this morning,\u201d Paris McKenna said, as she turned and favored Hoss with a smile every bit as bright as the sunshine outside.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m glad t\u2019 do it,\u201d Hoss said, returning her smile. Over the course of the past week, he had noticed that the hollows of her cheeks seemed not quite as deep as they had been the night she first arrived. Her face yet remained pale, but the underlying grayness was all but gone, and there was a pale pink glow upon her cheeks, forehead, chin, and the very tip of her nose. She was getting around very well now, without the aid of a cane or a gallant man with a handy arm, and there was a definite spring in her step. \u201cMiss Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Eric?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re lookin\u2019 good, Ma\u2019am . . . real good.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy . . . thank you, Eric,\u201d she murmured demurely.<\/p>\n \u201cMissy not talk,\u201d Hop Sing sternly admonished Paris, as he returned to the dining room, carefully balancing three more plates, generously stacked with flapjacks. \u201cMissy eat now, while food hot,\u201d he continued, as he set one of the plates before her.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Hop Sing,\u201d she groaned as she eyed the stack on her plate through eyes round with horror and dismay. \u201cI\u2019ll NEVER be able to eat all this . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMissy Paris eat,\u201d Hop Sing snapped. \u201cYou, too,\u201d he continued, turning his attention toward Ben. He placed the remaining two plates down in front of Joe and Stacy. \u201cNo talk, Mister Cartwright. Sooner you and Miss Stacy finish, sooner you leave, go catch a whole lotta big mess of trout. Need whole lotta big mess of trout to feed Mister Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat y\u2019 will,\u201d Hoss readily agreed, his smile broadening, \u201c \u2018cause I\u2019m gonna be hungry as a bear come suppertime.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh oh,\u201d Joe murmured, favoring the biggest of his two older brothers with an apprehensive frown. \u201cYou all right, Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018Course I am,\u201d Hoss replied, bewildered and taken slightly aback by Joe\u2019s question and the look on his face.<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d Joe exclaimed, exhaling a loud, melodramatic sigh of relief. \u201cFor a minute there, I thought you\u2019d come down with something.\u201d<\/p>\n The bewildered frown on Hoss\u2019 face deepened. \u201cNow why in the ever lovin\u2019 world would y\u2019 think that, Li\u2019l Brother?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe grinned. \u201cWhen you said you were ONLY hungry as a bear just now . . . well . . . what ELSE was I supposed to think?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVery funny, LI\u2019L Joe,\u201d Hoss growled, raising his voice slightly in order to be heard above his younger brother\u2019s raucous laughter.<\/p>\n \u201cBoys, settle down and finish eating,\u201d Ben sternly admonished both of his sons. \u201cHoss, you need to be leaving sometime within the next twenty minutes or so, if you want to arrive early enough for Paris to make confession before Mass begins.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir,\u201d Hoss murmured, as he turned his attention to the remaining food on his plate. \u201cI\u2019m almost finished.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben downed the remaining coffee in his cup, then placed it, along with its saucer back down on the table. \u201cYou about finished, Young Woman?\u201d he asked, turning his attention to his daughter.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m ready to go whenever YOU are, Pa,\u201d Stacy eagerly responded.<\/p>\n \u201cFishing poles out on front porch,\u201d Hop Sing said, upon his return to the dining room, this time with a pot full of steaming hot coffee. \u201cPicnic lunch in kitchen. Hop Sing go get, take outside.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBuck and Blaze Face are also saddled and ready to go,\u201d Joe added. \u201cYou\u2019ll find \u2018em tethered to the post out front.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Son . . . and thank YOU, Hop Sing,\u201d Ben said gratefully, as he rose to his feet. \u201cStacy, you and I need to get a move on, if we\u2019re going to catch a whole lotta big mess of trout in time for Hop Sing to cook \u2018em up for our supper tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cComing, Pa,\u201d Stacy said. She leapt to her feet, and shoved her chair back under the table in the same fluid, graceful move.<\/p>\n \u201cYou two enjoy yourselves,\u201d Joe called after his father and sister, as they strode briskly across the great room toward the front door.<\/p>\n \u201cWe will, Grandpa,\u201d Stacy called back, as she fell in step behind their father.<\/p>\n As she sipped what remained of her coffee, Paris watched Ben and Stacy remove their hats and jackets from the coat rack. Ben donned his hat, then turned to retrieve his gun belt and revolver from the top of the credenza. Stacy, in the meantime, slipped on her blue denim jacket. That done, she gathered up Ben\u2019s jacket and held it out to him.<\/p>\n \u201cHere you are, Pa . . . . \u201d she said with a smile.<\/p>\n Ben secured his holster and gun to his right thigh, then reached out to take his jacket from his daughter\u2019s outstretched arms. \u201cThank you, Young Woman,\u201d he said returning her smile with an affectionate one of his own. He took the proffered jacket from her arms, then picked up her hat and deftly placed it on top of her head. \u201cDon\u2019t forget to button up . . . it\u2019s a mite chilly out this morning, and I don\u2019t want you coming down with a cold, or worse . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Pa . . . . \u201d she groaned, even as she obediently drew the ends of her jacket together, and began fastening the buttons.<\/p>\n Paris felt her heart lurch, then constrict within, as she observed the easy camaraderie . . . the light of happy anticipation in their eyes as they contemplated the day ahead.<\/p>\n \u201cFrom the first moment I laid eyes on Stacy, I knew . . . deep down, I KNEW . . . SHE was the daughter I\u2019d always wanted, but never had . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Ben\u2019s words . . . spoken the day following her arrival from Virginia City . . . echoed again through the inward depths of thought, mind, and memory.<\/p>\n \u201cFifteen,\u201d<\/em> she ruminated silently, as she turned her gaze to Stacy\u2019s face, with those great, big blue eyes, bright as a summer sky, framed by a halo of long hair, dark brown, almost black . . . .<\/p>\n . . . a face so like her own in many ways, and yet so unlike . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cFifteen going on sixteen . . . . \u201d Paris murmured softly. \u201cThe same age . . . . \u201d The exact same age poor Rose Miranda would have been . . . .<\/p>\n Had she lived.<\/p>\n In the terrible moment that followed, a bitter hatred for the child-woman, now striding through the front door that her father gallantly held open, surged up from within her heart with all the sudden violence of a flash flood. Paris despised Stacy for being here . . . in this house . . . for being the daughter and sister Ben Cartwright and his sons respectively had always wanted, but never had . . . .<\/p>\n . . . usurping the place that, in her mind, rightfully belonged to another.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris?!\u201d<\/p>\n A man\u2019s voice, speaking softly, followed by a big, yet gentle hand coming to rest on her shoulder . . . . She started violently, nearly toppling right out of her chair. In the very same instant, a harsh, guttural cry rose up from her throat. For a moment, she remained in place, her eyes darting wildly about the room.<\/p>\n \u201cM-Miss Paris . . . s-sorry I startled ya . . . . \u201d Hoss barely managed to stammer out his apology. The intensity of her reaction to the sound of his voice, and the touch of his hand, shocked him. \u201cA-Are ya . . . are ya all right?!\u201d<\/p>\n Paris took a deep ragged breath, then slowly lifted her head, and found Eric peering down at her, with an anxious frown. His face was white as a sheet, and the hand, still resting on her shoulder, trembled. \u201cF-Fine, Eric,\u201d she replied, her voice tremulous. \u201cI . . . I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n The scowl on Hoss\u2019 face deepened. \u201cYou sure?\u201d he queried, dubious and wary.<\/p>\n Paris nodded, as she reached up and covered his hand with her own. \u201cI\u2019m fine now, Eric. Honest.\u201d She gave his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m really sorry I startled ya so,\u201d Hoss apologized again.<\/p>\n \u201cMy fault, Eric,\u201d Paris said, placing both hands on the table before her. She, then, rose to her feet slowly, leaning heavily on the dining room table for support. \u201cI . . . seem to have fallen into this awful habit of woolgathering at odd times . . . . \u201d The intense hatred she had felt for Stacy mere seconds before was gone, evaporated into nothingness, as if it had never been. \u201cDear God!\u201d<\/em> she silently, fervently prayed. \u201cAm I . . . h-have I . . . g-gone completely insane?!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c . . . uhhh, Ma\u2019am?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cY-Yes, Joe?\u201d Paris responded warily.<\/p>\n \u201cI have no idea in the world what you were thinking about just now,\u201d Joe quietly observed, \u201cbut whatever it was . . . well, judging from the look on your face, it sure must\u2019ve been something.\u201d<\/p>\n His words left her feeling as if her clothing had just been ripped from her body, exposing all of her scars, warts, and other imperfections, not only the physical ones, but those of soul and spirit, as well. She felt as if very fault, every sin she had ever committed, and worse of all, her deepest, and most shameful secrets had been laid bare to the prying eyes of the world all around her.<\/p>\n \u201cN-Nothing,\u201d Paris stammered. \u201cI . . . it\u2019s nothing. In . . . in f-fact, I d-don\u2019t even remember what I WAS thinking about.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris, you sure feel up t\u2019 attendin\u2019 church this mornin\u2019?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes. Of course I\u2019m sure,\u201d Paris immediately replied. \u201cThat . . . and the ride into town and back in all that nice fresh air . . . it\u2019ll do me a world of good.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMitch and Bobby should have that buggy hitched and ready to go, Hoss,\u201d Joe said, as he stabbed the last of what remained of the generous stack of flapjacks Hop Sing had served up for breakfast.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, Joe,\u201d Hoss said, as he turned, and gallantly offered his arm to Paris.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cFather Rutherford?\u201d<\/p>\n Father Brendan Rutherford quickly slipped on his long, black cassock, then turned, upon hearing his name. Paul Bartholomew, the young deacon who would be assisting him at the altar for mid-week Mass this morning, stood in the open door to the church sacristy.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss Cartwright\u2019s out in the sanctuary,\u201d Paul continued. \u201cThere\u2019s a woman with him, who wants to make confession before Mass.\u201d<\/p>\n Father Brendan smiled. Aged in his late sixties, his full, ruddy face and circlet of tonsured red hair, easily took twenty years away from his appearance. He was a big man, standing well over six feet tall, with broad, muscular shoulders and barreled chest. Though some of his musculature sagged here and there under the combined pull of age and gravity, he still presented a picture of a man physically fit.<\/p>\n He had met Ben and Marie Cartwright a couple of months after the birth of their son, Joseph Francis. She had been born and raised within the Roman Catholic Church, and upon the birth of her son, sought to return after an absence of more than a decade. Though not Roman Catholic himself, Ben supported his wife\u2019s decision to return to the religion of her childhood and to raise their son in accord with that faith. Marie and young Joseph attended Mass regularly, until her tragic, untimely death, when the boy was barely five years old. Father Brendan and the members of the Cartwright family remained fast friends, even though Ben had opted to raise Joe according to his own faith and beliefs.<\/p>\n \u201cPaul . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Father?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease tell Hoss that I\u2019ll be with him and his guest directly,\u201d he said as he finished the task of buttoning his cassock.<\/p>\n Paul nodded, then turned to leave the sacristy.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and tell him I would be glad to hear his guest\u2019s confession,\u201d the priest called after the young deacon.<\/p>\n \u201cI will, Father.\u201d<\/p>\n A few moments later, upon completing his ritual of robing, Father Brendan strode briskly into the sanctuary, where he found Hoss and a woman, clad in an ill-fitting navy blue suit, sitting in the front pew.<\/p>\n \u201cGood morning, Hoss,\u201d Father Brendan greeted the Ben Cartwright\u2019s middle boy with a warm smile and extended hand. \u201cGood to see you. It\u2019s been awhile . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sir . . . it has,\u201d Hoss said, remembering that the last time he had seen Father Brendan was at the family\u2019s annual Christmas party last December. Smiling, he rose to his feet, and took the priest\u2019s hand. \u201cThe Ponderosa\u2019s kept the lot of us pretty busy this year . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and I\u2019VE been very busy myself, despite the fact that I\u2019m supposed to be retired,\u201d Father Brendan said ruefully, as they shook hands.<\/p>\n \u201cFather Brendan, you remember Miss Paris . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do, indeed,\u201d Father Brendan said, as he turned and smiled warmly at Paris. \u201cMiss McKenna, it\u2019s wonderful seeing you again. Very remiss of Ben not to tell me you were coming for a visit . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid Ben didn\u2019t know I would be coming for a visit, either,\u201d Paris quietly explained. \u201cI was on my way out to San Francisco when I suddenly took ill. Ben, bless his heart, graciously invited me to stay with him and his family at the Ponderosa until I regain my health.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry to hear you\u2019ve been ill,\u201d Father Brendan said, as he seated himself on the pew, on the other side of Paris. He smiled. \u201cThough with Ben, Hoss, Joe, Stacy, and Hop Sing looking after you . . . I\u2019m sure you\u2019ll soon be fully recovered.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes . . . they\u2019ve been spoiling me rotten, serving me breakfast in bed . . . waiting on me hand and foot . . . and with Hop Sing practically force feeding me every minute of the day, I\u2019m going to turn into a round little butterball before long,\u201d Paris said, returning his smile.<\/p>\n \u201cAs I recall, you were one of the rare few who could eat anything and everything without putting on an ounce,\u201d Father Brendan wryly remarked.<\/p>\n \u201cThe metabolism slows as one gets older, Father,\u201d Paris said ruefully, then sighed. \u201cI\u2019m afraid the days when I could eat anything and everything without gaining an ounce are long gone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m glad to hear you\u2019re doing better, Miss McKenna,\u201d the priest said. \u201cMister Bartholomew told me that you wish to make confession before Mass?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Father . . . if it\u2019s not an imposition,\u201d Paris replied.<\/p>\n \u201cNo imposition at all,\u201d Father Brendan said, as he slowly rose to his feet. \u201cI would be more than happy to hear your confession. Hoss, if you would excuse us?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure thing,\u201d Hoss agreed . . . .<\/p>\n <\/p>\n With trembling hand, Paris McKenna crossed herself, then took a deep ragged breath. \u201cBless me, Father, for I have sinned greatly,\u201d she murmured softly, \u201cand it has been many years since my last confession.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMay the Lord be in your heart and upon your lips, that you may worthily confess all your sins,\u201d Father Brendan gave response in a kindly tone of voice. \u201cIn the name of the Father . . . and of the Son . . . and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAmen,\u201d Paris murmured softly, her voice barely audible. \u201cI . . . I confess to God Almighty . . . to all the Saints . . . and to you, Father . . . that I have sinned much in thought, word, deed, and omission by my own great fault. Since my last confession . . . which was . . . was . . . . \u201d She swallowed nervously. \u201cFather, it has been so long since I last confessed and received absolution, I . . . I can no longer remember time and place.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy Child, God knows your heart,\u201d Father Brendan said gently. \u201cSpeak now of the things that burden you the most.\u201d<\/p>\n Paris nodded. \u201cSince the time I last made confession and . . . and received absolution, Father, I . . . I have committed these sins . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n For a time, Father Brendan Rutherford sat mulling over Paris McKenna\u2019s disturbing confession in silence. \u201cMiss McKenna . . . . \u201d he ventured hesitantly, \u201cif I may be so bold . . . what . . . exactly . . . ARE your intentions concerning Ben Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you asking me if I . . . if I intend to . . . to m-marry him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. I don\u2019t know . . . . \u201d Paris replied, miserable and uncertain. \u201cI hadn\u2019t even thought\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you in love with him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI never STOPPED loving him, Father. I didn\u2019t know that myself until . . . until recently . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs Ben in love with you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe hasn\u2019t said so . . . not in so many words, but I . . . I think it\u2019s a very real possibility.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have to tell him, Miss McKenna.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout?\u201d she queried, dreading that she already knew what his answer was going to be.<\/p>\n \u201cRose Miranda,\u201d Father Brendan replied in a very quiet, very firm tone of voice. \u201cYou must tell Ben about Rose Miranda.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Paris immediately protested. \u201cNo, Father, I can\u2019t. I CAN\u2019T tell Ben about Rose Miranda . . . not now . . . not ever. He would despise me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe would despise you less if he heard about Rose Miranda from YOU.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen couldn\u2019t possibly hear about Rose Miranda from anyone else,\u201d Paris argued. \u201cMy parents . . . my sisters, and my brother . . . they were the only ones who knew about Rose Miranda, and . . . they\u2019re dead. All of them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou told me before that you weren\u2019t sure whether your brother is alive or dead,\u201d Father Brendan reminded her.<\/p>\n \u201cFather, I already told you . . . I\u2019ve not seen or heard from John since we last met in Saint Jo,\u201d Paris said with a touch of asperity.<\/p>\n \u201cYou CAN\u2019T rule out the possibility that your brother survived the injury you inflicted upon him when you met in Saint Jo,\u201d Father Brendan pointed out.<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, Father . . . all right! It\u2019s possible John IS still alive. I can\u2019t deny it,\u201d Paris reluctantly admitted. \u201cBut he has no more way of reaching ME, than I do of reaching him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he have a way of reaching you when he turned up in Saint Jo?\u201d Father Brendan asked.<\/p>\n \u201cOf course not,\u201d Paris replied. \u201cHis showing up in Saint Jo the way he did was pure and simple happenstance. I told you that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat makes you so sure pure and simple happenstance can\u2019t happen again?\u201d Father Brendan asked.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and what makes YOU so damned sure it WILL?\u201d Paris demanded, taking no pains to conceal her swift rising ire and frustration.<\/p>\n \u201cI DON\u2019T know that it will happen, Miss McKenna,\u201d the priest replied. \u201cThat being said, I have to admit that the odds are probably in your favor that your brother will never come here, that you\u2019ll never see or hear from him again. If you and Ben decide to marry, you\u2019ll both, like as not, spend many years together without him ever finding out about Rose Miranda from John.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut?\u201d Paris prompted, her eyes narrowing.<\/p>\n \u201cAh, yes . . . the caveat,\u201d Father Brendan said softly. \u201cFirst, over the many years I\u2019ve served Mother Church as a priest, it has been MY experience that somehow, one way or another, the truth will out, odds, chances, and statistics be damned . . . usually from a source wholly unexpected. Second, even if the truth never emerges, YOU will know about Rose Miranda, Miss McKenna . . . and BECAUSE you know, her ghost will always stand between you and Ben.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt doesn\u2019t HAVE to be that way . . . . \u201d Paris argued.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re absolutely right,\u201d Father Brendan agreed, \u201cit DOESN\u2019T have to be that way . . . and I dare say that if you were a hardened woman, without love or conscience, it WOULDN\u2019T be that way. You\u2019d marry Ben and maybe even live happily ever after, without sparing Rose Miranda so much as a single thought.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you saying that I AM such a woman?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I\u2019m saying quite the opposite, Miss McKenna,\u201d the priest replied. \u201cYou are NOT a hardened woman, a miracle in and of itself, perhaps, given the hard life you\u2019ve lead. You\u2019re also a woman of conscience, or else you wouldn\u2019t be so troubled about the kind of relationships you had with your parents and your sisters, nor would you have told your confessor about Rose Miranda. Last, and perhaps most important, only a woman with love in her heart would remain in love with a man she had left more than fifteen years ago . . . and still be grieving the tragic death of the\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFather,\u201d Paris wearily cut him off, \u201care you going to give me absolution or not?\u201d<\/p>\n Father Brendan shook his head. \u201cI can not,\u201d he said quietly, his voice filled with sadness and deep regret, \u201cnot until you tell Ben about Rose Miranda.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see,\u201d she said stiffly, in a voice stone cold. \u201cIs THAT to be my penance?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Father Brendan replied. \u201cThat is to be the ENDING of the penance to which you\u2019ve sentenced yourself ever since the night you left the Ponderosa . . . what? Fifteen? Sixteen years ago?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlmost SEVENteen years ago now,\u201d Paris said bitterly. \u201cFather?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Miss McKenna?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs there . . . is there no OTHER way in which you might give me absolution?\u201d she begged.<\/p>\n Father Brendan sadly shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cEven though . . . even though, according to YOU, I\u2019ve BEEN doing penance for the better part of the past seventeen years?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss McKenna, absolution requires more than simply acknowledging our sins through confession and doing penance,\u201d Father Brendan said gently. \u201cYes, those acts ARE important steps toward receiving absolution, but the MOST important step, in my humble opinion, is coming to the place of freeing oneself of the burden of guilt that comes as a consequence of having committed the sin.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . and the only way for me to find absolution . . . to free myself of the burden of guilt I\u2019ve supposedly carried around for the last seventeen years and end my penance is to . . . to . . . shift that burden of pain . . . of grief . . . and guilt from MY shoulders onto Ben Cartwright\u2019s?!\u201d Paris demanded, thoroughly outraged. \u201cNo, Father. I can\u2019t . . . I WON\u2019T do that. I\u2019M the one, for worse rather than better, who made the decisions . . . therefore, I\u2019M the one who should suffer the consequences and bear the burdens.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBen has a right to know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not denying that,\u201d Paris said, \u201cbut, all the same, he\u2019s better off NOT knowing. If that means I go to hell because I can\u2019t ever get absolution, then so be it. Better . . . FAR better all the way around that I spend eternity in hell than Ben spend the rest of his life in hell over decisions in which he was given no part . . . and that not even he can change now. I . . . regret having taken up so much of your time, only to . . . to have wasted it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss McKenna, I\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n The words lying at the very tip of Father Brendan\u2019s tongue died without utterance, as Paris McKenna, with back ramrod straight, her head held high, strode briskly out of the room, without sparing so much as a backward glance.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cEric, please . . . take me back to the Ponderosa,\u201d Paris demanded, the instant she came within earshot of Hoss, still seated in the front pew.<\/p>\n \u201cN-Now?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRIGHT now!\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss slowly rose to his feet with the rim of his white ten-gallon hat clasped in both hands. \u201cM-Miss Paris, I . . . I thought you were\u2014 \u201d he stammered, perplexed and bewildered.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m very sorry . . . more than I can possibly say . . . to have put you to all this fuss and bother,\u201d she said wearily, as she seized hold of his arm with a grip surprisingly strong for a woman of fragile health. \u201cI have a splitting headache, and I . . . I feel like I\u2019m going to regurgitate that wonderful breakfast Hop Sing made this morning. I . . . guess the ride into town just . . . plain . . . wore me out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, too, Miss Paris. I know y\u2019 really had your heart set on goin\u2019 t\u2019 church this mornin\u2019, \u201d Hoss said quietly, noting her pallid complexion and trembling hands with an apprehensive frown. \u201cIf ya\u2019d like, we can stop by Doc Martin\u2019s office on our way home, \u2018n\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI DON\u2019T need to see the doctor,\u201d Paris said in a firm, no nonsense tone of voice, as she and Hoss made their way through the church narthex, past the stream of parishioners arriving for Mass.<\/p>\n \u201cWe wouldn\u2019t be goin\u2019 outta our way, Ma\u2019am . . . honest,\u201d he gently pressed. \u201cIn fact, we\u2019ll be passin\u2019 right by his street on our way outta\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDamn it, Eric . . . I just told you . . . I DON\u2019T need to see the doctor,\u201d she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, \u2018M,\u201d Hoss responded stiffly, stung inwardly by her sharp rebuke.<\/p>\n A strained silence fell between them as they walked across the churchyard toward the buggy. Upon reaching the conveyance, Hoss helped Paris climb up into the passengers\u2019 seat, then circled around the back to the other side.<\/p>\n \u201cEric, please wait,\u201d Paris begged, as he settled himself in the buggy beside her. She reached out and placed a restraining hand over top his forearm, as he took up the reins.<\/p>\n Without uttering a word, Hoss turned toward the woman seated beside him, and waited.<\/p>\n \u201cI just wanted to tell you that I . . . that I\u2019m sorry,\u201d Paris murmured contritely, \u201cand I AM, Eric . . . honest! I am! Just because I\u2019m feeling poorly and out of sorts doesn\u2019t give me the right to snap your head off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c \u2018S ok, Miss Paris,\u201d Hoss said curtly, before gently commanding the horse to begin backing up.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s absolutely nothing wrong with me that a good, long nap won\u2019t cure,\u201d Paris stoutly maintained, \u201cwhich happens to be a very good thing because doctors tend to be expensive, and I\u2019m kinda low on funds at the moment.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou needn\u2019t worry yourself one bit \u2018bout money,\u201d Hoss gamely pointed out, as he turned from the church yard out onto the road that would eventually lead them back to the Ponderosa. \u201cPa\u2019d\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI KNOW he would, Eric,\u201d she returned with a touch of exasperation. \u201cHe\u2019s been very kind and generous . . . more so than I deserve, God knows, and I\u2019m very grateful. I would have been in dire straits indeed had your father not been here, and taken me in. All the more reason, then not to take unfair advantage of his good nature.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re still a friend o\u2019 the family,\u201d Hoss said quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cYou . . . your father . . . your brother and sister . . . and Hop Sing have ALL shown yourselves friends to me,\u201d Paris said, as she turned her face to the road stretching out before them. \u201cI couldn\u2019t ask for better. I only wish that I . . . well, that I had shown myself worthy of your friendship . . . . \u201d She punctuated those last words with a soft, melancholy sigh.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Paris . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . alright with you if I speak plain?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI s\u2019pose . . . . \u201d she warily gave ascent.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know why y\u2019 left so sudden last time you was here, but speakin\u2019 for myself, it just plain don\u2019t matter,\u201d Hoss said in a firm tone that brooked no argument, no dissension of any kind on the issue. \u201cWhat\u2019s past is gone . . . like water passin\u2019 under a bridge. Y\u2019 can\u2019t bring it back, \u2018n ya can\u2019t hold on to it, though a lotta folks try. What matters . . . leastwise what oughtta matter . . . is how a body\u2019s livin\u2019 in\u2019 the right here \u2018n right now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSometimes, Eric . . . some times . . . there\u2019s things in a person\u2019s past that are so terrible . . . so painful . . . it\u2019s impossible to let go,\u201d she ventured in a voice barely audible.<\/p>\n \u201cI know there\u2019s times when a man . . . or woman \u2018s gotta find a way t\u2019 make peace with what\u2019s past,\u201d Hoss said, \u201c \u2018n believe me . . . I know it ain\u2019t easy. But, to carry a heavy burden like that around for the whole rest o\u2019 your life . . . . \u201d He sighed and shook his head. \u201cThere comes a time when a body\u2019s gotta make up his mind t\u2019 let go o\u2019 the past, so he can live as he ought in t\u2019 here \u2018n now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see the wisdom in your words,\u201d she said softly, marveling at his insight. \u201cThe way a person\u2019s living out his life in the present is all that SHOULD matter. But, supposing that person finds himself surrounded by others who are not so willing to, ummm . . . shall we say let sleeping dogs lie?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll the more reason t\u2019 live the best y\u2019 can . . . \u2018n to BE the best y\u2019 can,\u201d Hoss replied.<\/p>\n \u201cSomething along the lines of living well can be your best revenge?\u201d she queried.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve never heard it put quite THAT way before,\u201d Hoss responded, his lips curving upward to form an amused grin, \u201cbut . . . yes, Ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n For a single, brief, shining moment of what could only be foolish insanity, Paris McKenna desperately wished, with all the strength and all of the wherewithal she could summon from within her, that it WAS possible to for her make peace with what was, that she might live the kind of life Eric had conveyed so strongly in his words, and in the conviction behind which those words had been uttered.<\/p>\n But, such could never be.<\/p>\n Not for her.<\/p>\n Not now.<\/p>\n Maybe . . . if Rose Miranda had lived . . . .<\/p>\n \u201cFoolishness,\u201d<\/em> she castigated herself in angry silence. \u201cRose Miranda is dead. Dead and buried.\u201d No matter how fervently she might wish otherwise, there was nothing she or anyone else could do to change that. To wish so hard for things that might have been, but could never be was pointless.<\/p>\n \u201cM-Miss Paris?!\u201d Hoss ventured, noting her physical appearance with growing concern. In the space of a few minutes, she had shriveled, like grapes and plums turned respectively to raisins and prunes. She leaned heavily against the other side of the buggy, with chin resting down upon her bosom and eyes closed. \u201cMa\u2019am, are y\u2019 . . . are y\u2019 all right?!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFine, Eric,\u201d she moaned softly.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . \u2018n you\u2019re sure ya don\u2019t want me t\u2019 stop by the doc\u2019s office on our way home?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cQuite sure,\u201d she immediately replied. There was a hard, biting edge to her voice. \u201cGood long nap\u2019s all I need . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, \u2018M,\u201d Hoss murmured softly, as he turned and, in passing, cast a longing eye down the street, where Doctor Martin and his wife lived and worked.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Upon her return to the Ponderosa, Paris turned heel and fled across the yard toward the front door of the log ranch house, the instant Hoss lifted her down from the buggy and gently set her feet down upon terra firma, without sparing so much as a second glance or even a simple thank you. Hoss stood beside the buggy with his eyes glued to Paris\u2019 retreating back, as she strode across the yard, with head bowed and shoulders hunched, moving as fast as her precarious health and decorum allowed. He kept close watch until she finally entered the house, then, with a disheartened sigh, he set himself to the task of unhitching the horse from the buggy.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, the sound of the front door opening, then slamming shut, brought Hop Sing running out of the kitchen. \u201cM-Missy?!\u201d he gasped, upon catching sight of Paris bolting headlong across the great room toward the steps. \u201cMissy Paris . . . why you back so early?!\u201d<\/p>\n Paris half ran, half stumbled up the stairs, turning a deaf ear to Hop Sing\u2019s anxious entreaties. Upon finally reaching the safe confines of the guest room upstairs at the far end of the hall, she slammed the door shut, then collapsed against it, gasping for breath.<\/p>\n \u201cWHORE!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Her mind echoed with the sound of a voice that, mercifully, she had not heard in nearly sixteen years. It was the voice of Gerald McKenna, her father, stone cold, filled with anger, hatred, and bitterness. A vision of his face, when last she had seen it, swam into view. His jaw was set with an agonizing rigidity and his thick, bushy eyebrows drawn tightly together, locked in a perpetual scowl. The deep lines and hallows, seemingly gauged into brittle flesh the consistency of dried parchment, lent him the appearance of a man twenty years older at the very least. His blue eyes, the same bright color as her own, burned with the corrosive emotions literally eating him alive from within.<\/p>\n \u201cWhore,<\/em>\u201d he spat contemptuously. \u201cNothing but a common WHORE!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d she tearfully insisted, now as she had then. \u201cNo! It WASN\u2019T like that . . . it WASN\u2019T! I swear!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLiar!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cShut-up,\u201d Paris moaned, clapping her hands tight over her ears.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss McKenna . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Father Rutherford\u2019s voice, hesitant and uncertain, rose from the wounded places within her heart, effectively . . . and mercifully . . . stilling her father\u2019s cruel words, and exorcizing the terrible image of his face.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss McKenna . . . .<\/em><\/p>\n . . . if I may be so bold, he continued, . . . what . . . exactly . . . ARE your intentions concerning Ben Cartwright?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cAre you asking me if I intend to m-marry him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . I don\u2019t know, I don\u2019t. I hadn\u2019t even thought\u2014 \u201d Paris moaned softly, as she stumbled across the room, fervently hoping to reach the bed, before she lost her balance and fell down.<\/p>\n \u201cParis?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Father Rutherford\u2019s face shimmered. His eyes, that circlet of red hair, now mixed so generously with gray, the long, aristocratic nose, that firm mouth and squared jaw line, all melted into a formless mound of flesh before the gaze of her inward sight.<\/p>\n \u201cParis . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n That formless mound of flesh coalesced into the face Ben Cartwright, as he appeared now, still every bit as handsome, as he had been when she first took up with him nearly seventeen years ago, leastwise in HER humble opinion. His graying, dark brown hair had gone completely snow white, and some of the lines, present in his face then, had deepened with the passage of time. Those changes, ones that would make the vast majority of people look old, lent a certain dignity and grace to his rugged good looks. Ben had aged exceedingly well over the past seventeen years, and there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever, that he would continue to do so.<\/p>\n \u201cParis . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n With a soft, contented sigh, she half sat, half fell down on the edge of her bed, closing her outward eyes, that she might all the better see once more the remembered passionate warmth radiating from his eyes and face.<\/p>\n \u201cA penny for your thoughts . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cOh no! No, no, no . . . Ben, we shouldn\u2019t,\u201d she moaned, her voice filled with sadness and regret.<\/p>\n \u201cIs that what you want?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYou know damned well that ISN\u2019T what I want, Ben Cartwright. I\u2019m . . . I\u2019m trying to be sensible, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not so sure I want to be sensible, Paris . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cIf we had the common sense God gave a horse\u2019s arse, we WOULD be sensible. It\u2019s been sixteen years, Ben . . . .<\/p>\n . . sixteen years . . . .<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 . . . almost seventeen . . . .<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c . . . nearly half my life.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cParis,\u201d Ben gently pressed, \u201cwhat matters is the years that lie ahead . . . not the years gone by . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have to tell him, Miss McKenna.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Father Rutherford\u2019s face, his voice, his words burst into her reverie with Ben with all the rude suddenness of someone throwing a bucket of ice cold water in her face.<\/p>\n \u201cYou HAVE to tell him, Miss McKenna . . . .<\/em><\/p>\n . . . you have to tell Ben about Rose Miranda!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cHarlot!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Her father\u2019s face returned, displacing Father Rutherford\u2019s, with the same rude suddenness his, in its turn, had displaced Ben\u2019s.<\/p>\n \u201cParis, what matters is the years that lie ahead . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYou HAVE to tell him . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c . . . the years that lie ahead . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c . . . Jezebel!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Shut-up,\u201d she whimpered softly, as she leaned forward, pressing her hands tight against her ears once again. \u201cAll of you, please . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have to tell him, Miss McKenna . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c. . . what matters is the years that lie ahead . . . . \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYou HAVE to tell Ben about Rose Miranda.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cCommon harlot!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c . . . you have to tell Ben about Rose Miranda.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cNo! No, damn you! Damn ALL of you!\u201d she vehemently swore, fearful that she had finally stumbled across that razor thin boundary line between sanity and utter madness. \u201cJust . . . shut-up! Please . . . for the love of God, please . . . just . . . shut-up, and . . . and leave me in peace . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Mercifully, the even rhythm of someone gently knocking on the door dispelled the dread visions and silenced their voices.<\/p>\n \u201cWh-Who . . . Who is it?\u201d she responded, her voice shaking.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s me,\u201d Hoss replied from without. The concern and anxiety he felt within him, came through in his voice all too painfully loud and clear. \u201cMiss Paris . . . are you all right?! I thought I heard ya screamin\u2019 just now . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201c . . . s-sorry, Eric, I . . . I, ummm dozed off for a moment and . . . and, I guess I . . . I must\u2019ve been dreaming,\u201d she stammered, grateful for the closed door that safely concealed his face and her own bright red cheeks, very warm to the touch. \u201cIt . . . w-wasn\u2019t a very nice dream, I\u2019m afraid . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Hoss replied, not knowing what else to say. \u201cHop Sing sent me up t\u2019 tell ya that dinner\u2019ll be ready in five minutes . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n Paris closed her eyes again, and took a deep, ragged breath. \u201cI-I\u2019m not hungry, Eric,\u201d she responded, endeavoring to keep her voice calm and steady.<\/p>\n \u201cY\u2019 sure ya can\u2019t manage a li\u2019l?\u201d he cautiously pressed. \u201cHop Sing fixed pot roast, \u2018specially for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI . . . appreciate all the trouble Hop Sing went through, but I\u2019m . . . just . . . plain . . . not hungry,\u201d Paris replied. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright, I\u2019ll tell him,\u201d Hoss said. He started to turn, then stopped. \u201cMiss Paris?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it, Eric?\u201d she responded warily. She remained, seated on the edge of her bed, with hands clasped tight beneath her chin, and every muscle in her body rigidly tensed.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m real sorry you ain\u2019t feelin\u2019 very well right now,\u201d he said with heartfelt sincerity. \u201cI hope you\u2019ll be feelin\u2019 better real soon.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Eric,\u201d she murmured softly, listening close to the sound of his footsteps as they moved down the hall, away from the door to her room, fast closed. The instant his soft footfalls finally gave way to silence, she warily exhaled the breath she had been holding, then unclasped her hands slowly, one finger at a time.<\/p>\n \u201c . . . stupid,\u201d Paris bitterly castigated herself, as she removed her shoes, then eased herself down onto the bed. She rolled over onto her side, turning her back to the closed door separating this room and herself from the rest of the house, and everyone in it. \u201cHow in the ever lovin\u2019 world could I have been so bloody damn\u2019 stupid?!\u201d<\/p>\n If, at that very moment, she could have but one wish . . . it would be that the ground beneath her would open right up and swallow her whole, crushing her under a blanket of earth and rock, enveloping her in darkness so thick . . . so solid, a body could cut it with a knife. It would be bliss beyond imagining not to have to see anymore . . . to think or feel anymore . . . .<\/p>\n . . . and most especially not to BE anymore.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Unbeknownst to Paris or the Cartwrights, John McKenna, made his way painfully, one halting step at a time, across C Street, heading from the stage depot to the narrow passage way between the hotel and the Silver Dollar Saloon, that led to Blood Alley.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re LAUGHING at me!\u201d<\/em> he silently accused the citizens of Virginia City, as he limped, making damned sure he kept his back straight, his shoulders back, and head held high. \u201cYou think to fool me, but I KNOW. I . . . KNOW . . . you\u2019re ALL laughing at me!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n To the undiscerning eye, they were simply children playing . . . women shopping, pausing briefly to exchange a few words, and gossip more than likely . . . men about their daily business. Most would, no doubt, be completely taken in by the bland, insipid masks they presented to the world, day after day after day, but not a man, like himself, greatly blessed and just as greatly cursed with a rare gift that allowed him to see the true faces behind their deceitful fa\u00e7ade. He could hear their derisive laughter and see their wagging heads and pointing fingers all too clearly.<\/p>\n \u201cIt didn\u2019t take long for word of what happened at the bank in Carson City to get back here,<\/em>\u201d John silently observed, as he glared balefully into faces, that, for the most part, seemed content to ignore him.<\/p>\n He knew it would have eventually, of course. That was a given, human nature being what it was, and according to Parson Meriwether Lewis, one of the most unsavory, most disagreeably foul, most evil aspects of said human nature was the way it drooled with such nasty relish at the sight of its betters falling so utterly, so completely from grace. But he had no idea, no idea in the world, that word of the humiliation he had suffered yesterday afternoon at the hands of one Esau Brisbane, president of the Carson City branch of the Lattimer Platt and Sons Bank, would actually spread across the entire length, width, and breadth of Virginia City before his return. John frowned. Given that he had specifically requested that the funds from the closed account be issued primarily in denominations of fifty, twenty, and ten, he expected that envelope to be much, much thicker.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c . . . the final balance in your account was twenty two dollars and seventy three cents.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n John\u2019s jaw dropped. For a time he remained frozen in place, staring up into the bank president\u2019s face, through eyes round with astonishment. \u201cN-No,\u201d he whispered, when, at last he found his voice. \u201cN-No . . . th-that . . . that c-c-can\u2019t be!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cTwenty two dollars and seventy three cents IS the correct amount, Captain McKenna,\u201d Esau said. \u201cIf you\u2019d like to review the final statement\u2014 \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n John McKenna flew out of his chair with surprising speed and power, given a man with, in his own words, \u2018a bum leg.\u2019 \u201cTHERE SHOULD BE FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS IN THAT ACCOUNT,\u201d he shouted. Before Esau could react, John seized hold of his jacket lapels in a tight, white knuckled grip, and pulled him close. \u201cDo you hear me?!\u201d John whispered, his face less than an inch from Brisbane\u2019s. \u201cThere should be fifty thousand dollars in that account! Fifty . . . THOUSAND . . . dollars.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cCaptain McKenna, I suggest you unhand me this minute,\u201d Esau ordered, in a tone of voice that dripped icicles. \u201cIf you don\u2019t, I\u2019ll have you jailed for assault.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n John, his body trembling in the grip of intense, impotent fury, released his hold on Esau with enough force to upset his balance. The bank president stumbled backward a few steps. Had he not bumped into his desk, he would have almost certainly taken a very nasty tumble.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cThere should have been more than fifty thousand dollars in that account,\u201d John insisted, his dead calm voice a frightening contrast to his body, still trembling, his beet red face, and eyes round and staring. \u201cI wired my bank in Westpoint . . . and asked them to wire a draft for fifty thousand dollars to my account HERE.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWestpoint, New York,\u201d Esau muttered softly, as he pulled himself up to the fullness of his diminutive height, and straightened his jacket. He, then, walked around the enormous desk, that completely dominated his small office, and took his place in front of his chair. \u201cWas the bank Mercers and Coe Bank and Trust, Captain McKenna?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d John replied. \u201cYou KNOW damned well it WAS.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Esau sat down, and yanked open the bottom left hand drawer of his desk, and withdrew a slender folder. \u201cI received a wire from Mister Coe, President of Mercers and Coe, in response to your request to transfer funds from that bank to this,\u201d he said stiffly as he slapped the folder in hand down onto the top of his desk in front of John McKenna. \u201cYour account with Mercers and Coe WAS closed, per your request, Captain McKenna, and the entire remaining balance, which by the way totaled seven hundred seventy two dollars and seventy three cents wired to your account HERE.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d John protested, shaking his head vigorously in denial. \u201cNo! That\u2019s NOT possible!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThe Lo Mein Affair<\/a>
\nThe Wedding<\/a>
\nSacrificial Lamb<\/a>
\nPoltergeist II<\/a>
\nIndependence Day<\/a>
\nVirginia City Detour<\/a>
\nThe Guardian<\/a>
\nLi’l One<\/a>
\nYoung Cartwrights in Love<\/a>
\nSan Francisco Revisited<\/a>
\nThere But for the Grace of God<\/a>
\nBetween Life and Death<\/a>
\nOrenna<\/a>
\nClarissa Returns<\/a>
\nTrial by Fire<\/a>
\nMark of Kane<\/a><\/p>\n
\n
\nTwo horses stood at the edge of a vast lake, surrounded on all sides by tall ponderosa pine. Their riders . . . a beautiful twenty year old, with a long thick mane of rich dark brown curls, nearly black as a raven\u2019s wing, and sparkling sky blue eyes . . . and a handsome man, tall, his dark hair generously mixed with silver, with warm dark brown eyes . . . stood side by side at the edge of the water. Her quick, easy laughter, prompting a tender, indulgent smile; the quick, feathery, seemingly accidental touch of a hand; a tender glance, followed by a warm embrace . . . .<\/em>
\nWith those memories rose all of the feelings, just as vibrant, warm, and intense as they had been then. Paris realized too late that she had unwittingly opened a Pandora\u2019s box. She tried desperately to squelch the images and feelings of the past, but found doing so akin to trying to put water back after a dam has burst. A sudden collision with what felt like a brick wall, mercifully brought her reverie to a screeching halt. Paris stumbled a few steps backward and would have fallen had it not been for the steadying influence of a pair of massive hands and strong arms.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPhysically, she\u2019s the same,\u201d Paul had reported. \u201cI gave her a stern lecture about the importance of eating properly . . . especially if she wants to regain her strength and stamina.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
\nBen raised his hand, intending to quietly knock on the door. \u201cIt IS early . . . . \u201d<\/em> He winced against a sharp pang of conscience. \u201cAll right,\u201d<\/em> he groused silently. \u201cAll RIGHT! I\u2019ll check on Paris when I come back from town.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThe entire family . . . himself, Hoss, Joe, Hop Sing . . . and Stacy . . . was gathered together in the chambers of Judge John Faraday [2] along with his own lawyer, Lucas Milburn. Though Adam wasn\u2019t able to be there, he had written Stacy a special letter, welcoming her into the family, and expressing his genuine delight at the prospect of finally, at long last, having a sister. He had also given Stacy a list of the most ticklish portions of his youngest brother\u2019s anatomy, leastwise those, no doubt, grudgingly deemed by polite society as acceptable for an energetic, tomboyish young sister to ambush . . . much to Joe\u2019s everlasting consternation.<\/em><\/p>\n
\n\u201cParis,\u201d Ben said quietly, as the memory faded, \u201cI need to ask you one more question.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nWith Earth, My Mother and Sky, My Father;
\nWith the Moon and Sun,
\nMy Grandmother and My Grandfather;
\nWith My Aunts and Uncles,
\nThe Winds, and Rains,
\nThe Snows, and Storms;
\nWith My Sisters and Brothers,
\nALL that live, breathe, and have being
\nUpon Earth, Our Mother,
\nUnder Sky, Our Father.<\/p>\n
\nBefore My Ancestors, who came before me,
\nAnd My Descendants, who will come after me,
\nShining down upon me
\nAs Stars in the night sky.<\/p>\n
\nIn the very center of my life;
\nWith Earth and Sky,
\nWith Sun and Moon,
\nWith the Wind, Water, and Fire;
\nWith all the plants and animals;
\nBetween my Ancestors and Descendants;
\nWhere North and South,
\nEast and West together meet.<\/p>\n
\nMother . . . Father . . . Lover . . . .
\nAnd Creator of all that is,
\nHelp me to remember
\nThat I am but a single strand
\nOf the Great Web of Life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n. . . riding into the yard alongside her father on the back of her beloved pony, Flower, dressed in a pair of old dungarees that had belonged to her older brother, John, and a dark green riding coat that complimented her red hair.<\/p>\n
\n\u201c . . . uhhh, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSergeant Collier, I\u2019ve killed a good number o\u2019 men over the last six or seven years,\u201d Private Edwards wearily confessed. \u201cSo not t\u2019 speak ill o\u2019 the dead, I\u2019ll just say that most of \u2018em were mean, ornery sons-of-bitches, who had it comin\u2019. I\u2019ve never killed a woman, though I been tempted a time of two . . . \u2018n I never killed any children. Never. I . . . thought . . . maybe I could, if I was paid enough . . . . \u201d He sighed then, and dolefully shook his head. \u201cI was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMister Collier.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nWith each passing day, it grew more and more difficult for Jeff to reconcile the man in Georgia, more sickened and horrified by the actions of that young private than anyone else in their unit, with the man who obsessively sought the death of a teenaged girl by the name of Stacy Cartwright.<\/p>\n
\nG. Edwards [stop]
\nc\/o E. Jones
\nVirginia City, Nevada [stop]<\/p>\n
\nLong Branch Saloon
\nDodge City Kansas [stop, end of message]
\n\u201cNow don\u2019t THAT beat all,\u201d Roy sighed as he folded the single sheet of paper and stuffed it back into the envelope. \u201cGeorge . . . . \u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cArthritis,\u201d his family physician pronounced when he had gone for an examination upon his return home from the war to placate his worried mother more than out of any particular concern for his physical well being.<\/em><\/p>\n
\n\u201cCaptain McKenna . . . . \u201d<\/em>
\nEsau Brisbane\u2019s strident, gravelly voice echoed again in the ears of his inward hearing for what had to be the millionth time.
\n\u201c . . . your account has been closed, as you have requested,\u201d Esau said curtly. He held out a thin envelope, bearing his name, neatly penned, on its face.<\/em><\/p>\n