Summary:\u00a0 A building so beautiful, so elegant, so deadly…and Cartwright and Sons Construction are to blame when it strikes, taking one of them….\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 A Cartwright’s in the 21st Century story.<\/p>\n
Rated:\u00a0 T \u00a0Word Count: 46800<\/p>\n
21st Century Cartwrights Series:<\/p>\n
Within the Circle<\/a> <\/p>\n Withholding the Dream<\/strong><\/p>\n Adam Cartwright had to slow down as he approached the turnoff. Not because of the turn itself. The Jaguar XKE he drove could have taken the corner easily at twice the posted speed limit. No, he slowed down so that he could look again at the mountainside above him and marvel at what was there with that particular sense of ownership that a designer has.<\/p>\n The building rose like a crystalline dragonfly high above the shoreline of Lake Tahoe. Its glass wings reflected the sunlight, spinning it and turning it into every hue of the rainbow. From lake level the structure appeared to rise from the very treetops when in fact it sat upon a rock ledge nearly four acres square. The center, the body of it, was A-shaped, piercing the clear air and cloudless sky that day. There was a steady thrum to the very earth that one could imagine was the beating of the wings yet belonged to the very human workers that tended to the rising giant.<\/p>\n With a shake of his head, Adam shoved the car into low gear, determined not to let the awe he felt overwhelm him. That, he figured, would dissuade him from his task at hand that day. A distasteful chore that would sully the grandeur of this magnificent hotel he had designed and watched being born on this rocky slope of the Sierra Nevadas. With the Jag’s top down, he heard two distinct sounds as he wound his way up the tree-lined drive. The first he expected because they were the sounds of construction: the throaty purr of heavy equipment, the shouts of men giving directions, the hiss of a disgruntled mountain giving up a place for mankind to build. The second sound was no more than sharp click off to his left, and by instinct, he turned towards it.<\/p>\n Standing there between two tall Ponderosa pines was a photographer, the camera’s large single eye trained on him. He braked, turned off the motor and was out of the car headed for that lens before the thought ever crossed his mind to do otherwise.<\/p>\n “This is private property,” he shouted but the clicking continued from the camera. “I don’t know who you are or what you think you’re doing here but-” The camera lowered slowly and Adam caught sight of the woman behind the lens.<\/p>\n She wasn’t very tall. Blonde with shoulder-length hair, she would have had to look up to see into his eyes. Despite his apparent anger, she was chuckling softly. The camera in her steady hands rose once more, daring him to swat it away.<\/p>\n “Funny. Cartwright and Sons Construction hired me to do a photo shoot of this place and now the bossman is trying to throw me off? Got news for you, Mister Cartwright. I can’t take long range pictures and have them show what you want ’em to.”<\/p>\n In a blink of an eye, Adam realized his mistake and he apologized profusely. Yes, he understood now. “But you can’t get much of the building from this angle, can you?” “Yep, kinda awesome, ain’t it?” When Adam hadn’t answered her, she smiled over her shoulder and asked, “Does this get me arrested for trespassing or can I use it as a get-out-of-jail free card?”<\/p>\n “If you can-” Adam started and stood to give her a hand up as well.<\/p>\n “I can, Mister Cartwright, I can. Name’s Faye McClellan.” She unwound her hand from the camera straps and extended it. Her grip was firm and sure. “You hired me to take shots of this fancy place, remember?”<\/p>\n The memory came back to him but vaguely. It had been several weeks ago that it had been suggested by none other than his father. Photos of the new Grissom Consortium hotel would be the preliminary step to entering the design in a nation-wide competition. A sure winner, Ben had prompted with a smile. In truth, Adam was immensely proud of the hotel with its soaring center and sweeping ells but he had thought of it as a parent thinks of a child: of course it was beyond comparison simply because it was his!<\/p>\n But that would soon come to an end. Within hours, in fact, it would truly become Grissom’s, a man that Adam Cartwright had come to think of as something less than wholesome and honest. Just to say his name now left a nasty taste in his mouth, making Adam want to drink something very strong and potent to erase it. Not long ago, he’d found himself in the Bucket of Blood down in Virginia City, drinking one too many whiskeys and spilling his guts to brother Hoss about the man.<\/p>\n “Excuses. Nothing but excuses is all I’m getting now. Again.” Once, months before this problem had arisen but Grissom had made good on his debts. Now, with the building in the finishing stages, Adam wasn’t so sure the man would. “Hoss, what am I gonna do? They only made half a payment in March. Said only half the work we were asking payment for was done. I was stupid and accepted that.”<\/p>\n “Why?” Hoss asked simply, picking up his beer to stop himself from saying any more.<\/p>\n “Because I figured that next month we’d ask for the missing half and then some. But come April, when we billed for that much, he said there was a problem at his bank and he’d get back to me.” Adam snorted into his nearly empty glass. “Ever since then he’s been avoiding my phone calls.”<\/p>\n “So go see him,” offered the big man. “Go camp on his doorstep.”<\/p>\n “Can’t run a business like ours sitting on someone’s welcome mat, Hoss. Besides, the building is about finished.” “According to the law, yes, but we can slap a mechanic’s lien on it. That pretty much snarls things up in court and opens us up to a countersuit. He can’t open his fancy hotel; he loses money and sues Cartwright and Sons Construction for more than he owes us. He winds up with his hotel at a discount price and we wind up with a black eye.”<\/p>\n “Sounds like you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”<\/p>\n Adam sighed and signaled for another round. “Bingo.”<\/p>\n Now, some three weeks later, Grissom had called and told him that he would meet him at the site with a check for the full amount. Of course, Adam had wanted to do handsprings down the corridors, shouting with relieved glee but he refrained. There would be no need to sign the legal papers he’d had drawn up to stop Grissom’s taking over of the property. At the end of the brief conversation, he’d found himself on slightly shaky ground. Would Adam kindly have Cartwright and Sons notify their insurance company to transfer the policy to Grissom Consortium? With reluctance, Adam agreed. It was, after all, common practice. Still, the little voice in his head warned him even as he made the call.<\/p>\n Today was the day. Nothing, Adam told himself as he found himself looking into the single dark eye of a camera lens, would ruin it. Except maybe this shutter-bug.<\/p>\n “Please, Miss McClellan. Your subject is the building. Not me. Can I give you a lift up to the top?”<\/p>\n The little blonde shook her head and he could see the smile peeking out from under the camera. He smiled again and heard the spin of tiny motors and the click of buttons pushed. Shaking his head, he decided that she could take whatever shots she wanted as long as he got what he wanted so he headed back to his car. Behind him, the camera continued its clicking and whirling.<\/p>\n As he pulled into the parking lot he forced himself to not be lost again in the wonderment of what he’d designed. He chastised himself briefly even, reminding himself that he may have created it on paper but his brother Joseph had been the one to take the picture, the idea, and turn it into reality. Joe and about a hundred other craftsmen. He parked next to his brother’s red Jeep beside the gray office trailer that bore the logo and name of Cartwright and Sons Construction Company, Inc. Settling his jacket across his shoulders, he went up the few steps and into the office.<\/p>\n There was no one in the office. Not even the ubiquitous Jenny, the company secretary charged with keeping things on an even keel and moving forward despite her young boss. Adam checked the parking lot again and found Jenny’s gray station wagon there so she had to be somewhere about. He was a touch surprised when he saw that Hoss’ metallic blue pickup was also there. This, he decided, deserved an explanation. Stepping into the atrium of the hotel was not unlike stepping into the forest that surrounded it. The thick carpet was a pale russet gold, matching the color of old pine needles. The walls, where there were walls, were of massive pine logs. The field stone fireplace caught your attention even without cradling any dancing flames. Across the expanse of carpet to what would become the registration desk, Adam walked, feeling very much at home. Yes, he’d spent lots of time here during the construction of this glory but it reminded him – and others who’d been to both places – of the sprawling ranch house he called home, The Ponderosa. It was larger and grander in scale but it still gave him the sense of security. The one thing missing from home was what made this place different: the soaring glass front that gave an unprecedented view of Lake Tahoe and the majestic mountains surrounding it. That day the sunlight was streaming through those immense windows, bathing the interior with a rich golden tone.<\/p>\n In the middle of it all were three card tables set side by side. On them the blue-inked plans were spread but there was also a mishmash of other items: a set of keys Adam would bet his last dollar on that his little brother would need to get home, a hammer, a chewed on pencil and a cup of cold coffee. He heard men’s voices from the adjoining wings, putting on the finishing touches. From the back of building where the dining room would be there were flashes of light like someone was testing them. Adam strolled that way, pausing only once to check on the shelving under the registration desk.<\/p>\n Hoss Cartwright held a clipboard and pencil in his massive hands. Once more he tried the light switch and when the overhead lights came on, smiled and checked a square on the paper the board held. He muttered that why someone would have flipped the breaker off would escape him but then weirder things happened on a construction site. He looked up from his list just in time to see his brother Adam enter the room.<\/p>\n “Hey, Adam. What you doin’ up here?”<\/p>\n “I could ask the same of you but then I think I know the answer. Joe too lazy to do his own last inspection?”<\/p>\n “I take offense at that!” came Joe’s shout from the kitchen area behind them. He joined the pair. “I thought having a fresh set of eyes go over it would be a good idea. Hoss has already found a few things you and I missed, Adam.”<\/p>\n Adam could only begrudgingly smile and admit that it was a good idea. “The building inspectors are due later today so I hope those few things are being taken care of.”<\/p>\n “As we speak,” Joe nodded. “What about Grissom? You said this morning that he was coming out with the last check. It’s almost noon and I ain’t seen hide nor hair of him.”<\/p>\n “Well without someone down in the office,” Adam began, an eyebrow raised. “Well, why don’t you and Joe go ‘way and leave me to my job?” Hoss protested gently. “There’s surely somethin’ the two of you got to discuss.”<\/p>\n Just then, Jenny came through the swinging doors that lead from the kitchen. She was a robust older woman with gray hair pulled into a twist that Joe swore was permanent. Never one to be caught in public wearing slacks, she always wore a navy blue or dark gray skirt and white blouse. In cool weather, there was always a sweater, brightly colored, either wrapped around her shoulders or on the back of her chair. She was a fixture and as such, never changed. In truth, she felt no need to. She had been with the company since its inception and was the only employee who gave no difference to the Cartwrights. Only Ben did she call Mister Cartwright, and Adam, because he appeared to run it all, she called Mister Adam. She respected Hoss and Joe, having worked with both of them over the years, but to them she gave a maternal eye – and opinion.<\/p>\n “Hoss!” she shouted and all three cringed at the strident and unpleasant tone her voice took. “What is that gizmo under the sink in there? If that’s a garbage disposal, it’s the queerest thing I ever saw. That doesn’t look -”<\/p>\n “I’ll go take a look, Miss Jenny. Did it growl when you flipped the switch?” Hoss crossed his fingers under the clipboard. Hopefully Jenny was in a teasing mood. If not he would soon be handed his head.<\/p>\n “Come on, Jenny,” Adam called, fighting the urge to laugh as Hoss slunk – the only word for it- back into the kitchen to check on something he’d apparently missed.”We need to go down to the office. Grissom will be here soon and we need to get some figures down on paper before we talk to him.”<\/p>\n Jenny and Joe walked ahead of Adam through the open double doors and he was about to tell Joe something when he was pushed from behind. Not on his shoulder but across his entire body with enough force that he was knocked into his brother. In falling he tried to turn his head to see what it was but it wasn’t until he was completely down that it washed across him. A roar so powerful that it consumed everything in its path. All sight, all sound was gone in an instant, replaced by an all encompassing roar and rush of hot air.<\/p>\n Beneath him, Adam could feel a body and knew it was Joe’s. He struggled to sit up, gasping for air. There were hands reaching for him that he could see through a bloody haze yet he couldn’t feel them. He fought for a grip on Joe but then everything faded into gray… then black….then….<\/p>\n “Take a deep breath,” someone was telling him when Adam’s world righted itself again. “Come on, Adam. Don’t do this to me,” it warned and he decided, once his ears stopped ringing, that he would tell Joe a thing or two. He took a deep breath. “That’s it.” “Help me up,” the older brother demanded and found an eager hand doing just that. Sitting up, Adam could see what had pushed him down, and what remained of his beautiful building. There was a pile of rubble where once the…his thoughts of sorrow cascaded into fear. “Hoss?” he croaked then coughed in pain.<\/p>\n Joe’s head shook then he turned and said something to someone Adam suddenly had no interest in knowing. He clambered to his feet, his vision swaying. He would have fallen if it hadn’t been for his brother grasping his shoulders. “Hoss!” he wanted to shout but couldn’t get enough air into his lungs to get it above a croak.<\/p>\n “Stay put,” Adam heard Joe’s shout as though from a great distance. “Help is coming! But I need to -.” The rest was lost in a blur to Adam for he was suddenly seated again, but this time on the rock wall that led to the pool area. He tried to tell Joe…but Joe was gone. He caught a glimpse of his back disappearing….<\/p>\n A glimpse at his watch- the crystal was broken, stopping the time at11:37. A touch to his face – his hand came away bloody. A deep breath to settle his nerves – the slash of pain that took his breath away instead. Another glimpse – insane, yes- to his watch, hoping it had all changed. It hadn’t. Yet as he looked up from his wrist, he saw that everything had changed.<\/p>\n Where once a sparkling, towering building had stood, now lay rubble and debris. The soaring dragonfly of earlier was now a repugnant worm crushed on the face of the mountainside. His brain refused to take it all in as he watched screaming fire-trucks and ambulances race up the mountain. They shoved their way into the parking lot, slamming into cars to move them then the helmeted figures leapt from them, running towards what remained of Adam’s “child”.<\/p>\n Still numb, he scanned the other direction. The office trailer was laid on its side, spewing flames from window holes. Through the clanging swirl of men and machines, he saw Jenny, her hand to the side of her head. She’s hurt, he thought and tried to make his legs work but they wouldn’t obey. She turned slightly and he saw that she was on a cell phone, speaking – no, shouting. Their eyes made contact and she started for him.<\/p>\n He forced himself to look at the crumbled remains of the hotel once more. There was Joe, shouting and waving his arm, giving directions. One man near him, Adam thought he was an electrician, stumbled and Joe went to him, helping him towards a paramedic. There was a smear of blood across Joe’s back, Adam saw, but he appeared functional.<\/p>\n Oh my God….Hoss…Where’s he\u2026blast was behind us…oh God, Hoss…This time when Adam told his legs to move, they did, but reluctantly and all too slowly for him and he staggered to the brother he could see. “Easy, Adam. Let me get a paramedic,” Joe began but his brother held up his hand for him to stop.<\/p>\n “Have you seen Hoss?”<\/p>\n Joe shook his head slowly and grimaced at the pain the motion caused. “No, I tried to get to where I thought…the firemen shoved me back. Told me to get out of the way.”<\/p>\n “Any idea what happened?” mumbled Adam, his vision again swaying ominously.<\/p>\n “No. Explosion, but little fire. ‘Cept for the trailer burning. All I saw was -” he said, swallowed hard and looked beyond Adam. “-was the whole thing just slowly fall apart.”<\/p>\n “What do we have here?” a paramedic asked as she knelt beside Adam, her gloved hand already reaching for his wrist to check his pulse.<\/p>\n He turned his attention to her and told her he was just a little woozy. She smiled for him and he took a little heart that perhaps he was telling the truth. He started to tell her to check on Joe but he was gone. Adam tried to push her hands away so he could stand and follow him, but she was stronger than she looked. She pushed something into his hand and placed it against his forehead, telling him to hold it there.<\/p>\n “I’ll be watching you so you’d best stay put. We need the ambulances for others, the more seriously injured or I’d have you on a stretcher right now.” Her finger wagged in his face. He grabbed it with his free hand and asked her to help find Hoss. She gave him a weak promise and was gone.<\/p>\n For Adam Cartwright, the pain was threefold that day. His building, his pride and joy, his momentous accomplishment was gone- reduced to rubble in half a heart beat. His body, bloodied, bruised and painful, kept him at bay from it all. His brother, his big lovable brother, was missing in the debris and as the minutes stretched into an hour, he feared that when he was found…No, he couldn’t make himself go down that path. All he could do was keep watch and he did.<\/p>\n Several times he saw Joe. Each time it seemed to Adam that Joe was a little worse for wear but each time, he would carry on with what he was doing. He tried to make himself believe that it was less, but an hour had passed when Joe came back to where he sat. He slumped against the flattened tire beside him.<\/p>\n “Found Hoss?” asked Adam softly.<\/p>\n Joe’s shaggy head shook. He accepted the bottle of water Jenny offered him and she drew Adam’s attention. Like them, she was disheveled with a strip of something holding a bloody pad to her right forearm. There were smudges beneath her eyes that were tracked by tears. She had lost a shoe but didn’t appear to care. From her skirt pocket bulged a cell phone.<\/p>\n “Hey!” a voice shouted and a fireman came towards them. “Can you run that crane up there?” He pointed to one of the cranes they had used around the site. It had been scheduled to be moved out that day and sat still waiting on the flatbed of a tractor-trailer rig.<\/p>\n “I can,” Joe shouted back and rose to meet the man.<\/p>\n As his brother watched, Joe used the crane’s hoist to move beam after beam, swinging them out of the way. Centered in one location that would have been the back of the building, the activity held an aura of careful expediency. Hurry, it said, but be careful. Again and again, the massive hook dropped out of sight, only to rise with a tangled mess of wood and metal. The massive chandelier from the dining area. A metal box Adam assumed was one of the walk-in freezers. Timbers that from their very size he knew were the main structural components of the building. Then they waved the crane off.<\/p>\n Adam saw Joe leap from the cab of the crane and run into the pile. One paramedic raced forward carrying an oxygen mask, another a stretcher. Then Joe went back to the crane and with infinite slowness and deliberation, dropped the hook, then raised the boom but this time he held it steady. A direction from a fireman and Joe moved whatever it was the crane held no more than a foot. Unable to remain still any longer, Adam levered himself to his feet, the tension in his body replacing the pain for the moment. He watched and followed Joe’s movements, his own sweaty palm now running down his side.<\/p>\n Another waved direction and the crane lifted whatever it held another foot or so. Limping, Adam pressed up the slope, never taking his eyes from the beehive of activity churning at the crane’s hook. The paramedics, their yellow helmets making them easy to spot, seemed concentrated on one speck of white.<\/p>\n They’ve found Hoss, Adam’s mind screamed and he found the strength to join the rescuers. By hand, they tore at the timbers crushing down on his brother’s massive body. He was vaguely aware that what the crane held above them could come crashing down and kill them all, but Adam had faith and faith that day would be enough. With the last man out of the hole, and Hoss strapped to a stretcher bound for an ambulance, the load shifted and the crane’s hook lost its grip. Dumbfounded, all Adam could do was watch it. It was, he thought, like a dying gasp.<\/p>\n “Jenny’s gonna take you, Adam,” were Joe’s words. Adam could feel himself being propelled down the slope, his brother on one side and the woman on the other. “I gotta stay here and help some more. Jenny? Were you able to reach Pa? Thanks.” “Mister Cartwright, there’s been some sort of accident over at the hotel,” she said and Ben heard the breathy quality to it and steeled himself. “Yes, sir. Lots of ’em. From what Jenny said, Adam and Joe are okay but she didn’t know about Hoss. Sir, I need your help. I’m over at Carson-Tahoe Hospital where they are bringing some of the injured. Can you come?” There was a sudden hitch in the voice on the other end of the conversation. “They’re still at the scene. Please, Mister Cartwright, I need you here.”<\/p>\n “I’m on my way to the hotel,” thundered Ben.<\/p>\n “You can’t get there. They have the road past Sand Harbor blocked to all traffic except emergency vehicles. Please?” she pleaded and now he could hear the tears in her voice. “Come here.”<\/p>\n “I’m on my way.” Even as he hung up the phone, he was moving for the door, shouting for Hop Sing. And whispering a prayer for his sons.<\/p>\n The emergency room parking lot was chaotic. As Ben parked his car on the street, he counted seven ambulances lined up, ready to back into the waiting bays. There was a state patrolman directing traffic. At first, he’d tried to stop Ben’s Lincoln but seeing the license plate and hearing the determined shout from the white-haired driver, he caved and allowed Ben to pass.<\/p>\n Inside was little better. Rising above the shouted instructions was a thick layer of foreboding. As he walked the short hallway, he looked for familiar faces and saw them – men he’d known for years both as a friend and as an employer. One man, Jeff Chandler, he remembered was one of the foremen. Jeff was sitting hunched over his arms. When Ben spoke to him, he turned dulled eyes up and shook his head. Ben next stopped a paramedic and asked about his sons. The man shrugged his shoulders and kept moving out the door.<\/p>\n “Mister Cartwright?” a voice called behind him and Ben turned to see Rosalie coming towards him. She carried a cell phone in one hand and held a clipboard to her chest with the other. “I’m glad to see you, sir.”<\/p>\n “The boys?” he pressed. “Adam, Hoss, Joe? Have you seen them? Heard from them? Anything, Rosalie, anything!”<\/p>\n She shook her head frantically. “Talked with Jenny. She’s still up to the site. Says Adam is banged up some. Joe’s been helping in the rescue, she said, so he must be okay.”<\/p>\n Ben keyed in on one word she’d said and he repeated it. “Rescue? Who? What about Hoss?” “Jenny didn’t say anything about him. Then her phone went dead. Battery’s dead would be my guess.” Once more, she began to cry and Ben let her. He wanted to join her, dread washing over him like the pungent scent of blood all around them.<\/p>\n “Is that all of them?” The man asking the question of Joe Cartwright shoved his helmet back on his head. In the dying sunlight, the steaks down his sweaty cheeks looked like dirty tears.<\/p>\n Joe took a long swig of water from the bottle he’d been handed and nodded. At his side, Jenny held a ragged sheet of paper for him to see. It was a hastily put together list with check marks next to names. Many names and, thankfully, many check marks. He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her to his side, seeking comfort as much as giving it.<\/p>\n “We’ll have the bomb squad up here at first light. State boys have the road sealed so no one can come up. All I can say, Cartwright, is that I am sorry. Saw this place going up and told my wife that it was high time North Tahoe got something ritzy like this. Like I said, sorry.” The man turned and left.<\/p>\n “This isn’t over, Joe,” Jenny murmured, a cold hand pressing against his side.<\/p>\n “Not by a long shot. I’m gonna find the bastard -”<\/p>\n “That’s not what I meant. We need to get to the hospital. I’m sure your pa is in about nine shades of panic right about now. ‘Sides, my head hurts.”<\/p>\n Still holding her close, they walked towards what remained of the office trailer. Upon seeing what was left, Joe almost laughed aloud for all of the vehicles that had been parked close by were damaged, either by the fire or by flying debris. Except one – Adam’s Jaguar and only because Joe’s Jeep had taken the brunt of it all. The Jeep had been rudely shoved into Jenny’s station wagon.<\/p>\n “Come on, Miss Jenny. You and me are going for a ride!” He gestured grandly to the sports car.<\/p>\n “Oh my,” she gasped then also began to laugh as she assessed the situation. “What do you think Mister Adam’ll do when he finds out you drove his car again without asking?”<\/p>\n “Me? I thought you’d drive. Lord knows he wouldn’t say a thing to you.”<\/p>\n “What are you gonna do for keys? How you gonna start it?” she asked, slipping along the side of the Jag and opening the passenger door a crack.<\/p>\n “What? You never hotwired a car, Miss Jenny?” At the emergency room door, a different scene met them. Gone was the panic. Except for the nurse who greeted them, there was no one else. For a moment, Joe thought perhaps he’d dreamed it all and now he was about to wake up and find that he had to go to work. When the nurse touched his shoulder and pain burst upon him like a brightly colored light shower, he knew he wasn’t dreaming.<\/p>\n “Come this way,” she urged and Joe lost all fight.<\/p>\n A weary Doctor Paul Martin slid the curtain open to the cubicle Joe’d collapsed in. He turned on a side light and that woke the younger man. He noted the momentary confusion but went ahead with his inspection.<\/p>\n “Concussion.” Fingers probed across Joe’s collar bone then tore fabric. “Laceration here. Not too deep but it’ll need stitching. Any trouble breathing?” Gentle pressure down the rib cage made Joe want to gasp but he kept silent. Then the pressure increased across his stomach and that made him grimace. “We’ll take some x-rays but they’re probably just cracked. Worried about that one you poked through a lung not long ago but, seeing how you’ve been on your feet and going at it since the explosion, there’s probably no reason to worry. Any trouble with your hearing? Vision?”<\/p>\n “Yes,” he answered and the doctor raised eyebrows. Joe Cartwright was not one to admit to any pain of any sort. “I don’t see my brothers. Where’s Hoss? Where’s Adam? They okay?”<\/p>\n “Adam and your father are upstairs in the waiting room. Hoss is still in surgery. Broke his leg, banged him around real good but all in all, he is a mighty lucky young man. You, too. So then, if you’ll do what I tell you, you can join your family but first, let me take those x-rays -”<\/p>\n “Just get it done.”<\/p>\n Twenty minuted later, Joe found his father and brother right where Paul Martin had said they were. His father met him halfway through the door, concern stamped on his face. Ben grasped his youngest’s face and held it in both hands as he asked how he was. When his father held him like that, Joe knew he couldn’t lie and not have Ben see it, so he told the whole truth.<\/p>\n “Banged up. Tired. Sore. Doc said he’d admit me for observation but said they were out of beds. Said Adam here had taken the last one. Any word about Hoss?” As soon as he said the words, he wished he hadn’t.<\/p>\n “Nothing,” came Adam’s voice. “Been in surgery for six hours.”<\/p>\n “And?” Joe’s single word seemed to shake as he said it. Silence fell into the room as outside the streetlights came on. The summer dusk deepened, becoming night. Without meaning to, Adam fell into a dreamless sleep, the corner of the sofa all that was holding him up. Joe also slept but he’d managed to stretch out, one arm across his eyes.<\/p>\n Alone and silent, Ben waited. Once his sons were asleep, he paced the floor. Worry filled him too full to remain still. There had been other times when he been imprisoned here in this corner room on the third floor of the hospital. Too many times, he told himself and tried to laugh. But each and every time, he reminded himself, things had turned out much less worse than he’d imagined. It would be the same this time. It had to be.<\/p>\n He had made about his one thousandth trip to the window when he saw the doctor coming down the hallway. Ben smiled into the reflection in the glass and turned to greet Paul Martin. Dressed in surgical scrubs that were sweat stained, the good doctor seemed cautious at first.<\/p>\n “They’re just sleeping. Adam wouldn’t go to his room until we knew something,” Ben said with a smile as he caught Paul’s worried look towards the sofas. “How’s Hoss?”<\/p>\n The doctor gestured that they speak in the hallway and Ben followed, sure to hear the encouraging words the doctor always spoke.<\/p>\n “He’s in intensive care, Ben.”<\/p>\n “Intensive care? For a broken leg?” He shook his head then went on. “Can I see him?”<\/p>\n Paul couldn’t look his friend in the eye so he studied the waxed floor instead. “He wouldn’t know you’re there. Why don’t you just go on home? Get yourself some sleep and come back in the morning,” he encouraged but even he heard the insincerity in his words.<\/p>\n A tightness settled in Ben Cartwright’s chest. Like a fist, it grabbed at him and held him. “I want to see my son, Paul.”<\/p>\n “He wouldn’t know you were there, Ben,” Paul repeated, and this time, studied the man. “He’s on life support.”<\/p>\n “You mean like a ventilator? Something to help him breathe?” Not two months ago, he’d stood looking down at his youngest attached to a machine to help him breathe. Now Hoss? The world tilted.<\/p>\n The doctor shook his head and wrapped both hands around Ben’s arms, holding him in place as he said, “Just what I said, Ben. Life support. Hoss…. Twice in the OR he stopped breathing on his own.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The smell of fresh brewed coffee came to Ben Cartwright’s nose and he inhaled deeply before he opened his eyes. Surprised, he found himself staring at the ceiling of his own bedroom. It was all a dream, he thought. The boys were all right. But even as he thought that, his heart told him different.<\/p>\n “You want this now?” Joe’s voice softly asked and Ben turned to find his youngest son standing by the window, the sunlight streaming through the open drapes.<\/p>\n No, Ben cringed. This son was barefoot and shirtless, showing the long line of neat stitches across his shoulder and the broad wrap- just in case, Paul had said- protecting damaged ribs. Joe tried to hide his limp as he turned to his father and brought him a cup of coffee.<\/p>\n “How did I wind up here? Last thing I think I remember is standing in the hospital hallway with Paul. Hoss, is he-? Adam?” Ben accepted the coffee then pressed suddenly tired shoulders into his pillows.<\/p>\n “Hoss is fine. And the last time I saw Adam, Doctor Conover was taking him to his room,” admitted the younger man as he perched on the edge of his father’s bed. “And I brought you home after Paul convinced you that there was nothing else you could do last night -er- this morning. He told me to let you sleep but there’s a problem.”<\/p>\n “Problem?” echoed Ben, his brow rising. Just the thought of Joe saying the word was enough to bring him fully awake – and worried.<\/p>\n “Yeah, we only have one car, so unless you want to ride into town in Hop Sing’s -”<\/p>\n Ben waved him silent. “Where is -?”<\/p>\n “My Jeep is crunched up beside Jenny’s station wagon and Hoss’ pickup over at the jobsite. I drove the Grape to the hospital and we came home in it last night.” Out of sight, Joe crossed his fingers, praying that his father hadn’t seen the dangling wires from the Jag’s ignition.<\/p>\n Snatches of memory returned to Ben. The cool night air as he folded himself into the old Jaguar’s passenger seat. The pull of gravity and the words of caution as his son took a curve too fast, he thought. An ache that settled into his knees as they were pressed against the dashboard. Then it ended. A sip of coffee brought him back to the morning sunshine.<\/p>\n “And Roy Coffee called earlier. Wants to see me up to the site. So, if you don’t want to have Hop Sing-”<\/p>\n “Where is my Lincoln?”<\/p>\n “Hospital parking lot. Thought it was a better idea to drive Adam’s car home last night. So? What is it? I give you a ride into -”<\/p>\n “I’m getting up. Have Hop Sing fix something we can take with us for breakfast. And I’ll meet Roy with you.”<\/p>\n “I’ll meet Roy on my own. You need to get to the hospital.” Joe took the cup his father was handing back, the coffee in it sloshing over the rim and onto his hand. Ben’s startled and fearful expression told Joe he’d used the wrong words. “I mean, Adam is probably going to be released and Hoss. . . .” He let his brother’s name fall into the growing silence that tightened his own chest. “Besides, the name of the company is Cartwright and Sons.” He emphasized the last word. “And I’ll bet you dimes to donuts that I know more about the building than any other person going. After all, I built it. So I’ll meet with Roy after I drop you off at the hospital.” Gathering the cup along with his own courage, he straightened his back and strolled out of the room.<\/p>\n When only a thump of feet hitting the carpeted floor was followed by the creak of bedsprings, Joe eased away from his father’s closed bedroom door where he’d been leaning. Luck seemed to running his way that morning. Now all he had to do was get the Grape out of the garage and be sitting in it waiting for his father to come out of the house. And manage to get the tell-tale dangling wires tucked up somehow. As he headed for his own room and shirt, he wondered if he could pull the seat up close enough that his knee would hide the empty ignition while his foot rested on the gas pedal. Or maybe just pedal-to-the-metal and put up with Pa’s complaining about how I drive. Take the curve by Hidden Lookout at about sixty and that should keep him preoccupied.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The hospital parking lot was crowded. If you happened to miss the vans mounted with satellite dishes parked at the very edge of the sidewalks, the crowd of people- those facing the building and those confronting them at the doorways- confirmed that the press was there. And waiting. It was enough to make Joe Cartwright ease off the gas and downshift as they swung into the driveway.<\/p>\n Joe glanced only once at his father and saw the concerned look he wore. Ben pointed but Joe needed no words of explanation. A weight-lifting sculpted arm covered with tattoos was waving at them from the delivery entrance side of the brick building. Both recognized it as belonging to Ed Mueller, part of Ben’s official-yet-un-official campaign organization. The younger Cartwright swung the Jag towards it, nudging the gas pedal gently so as not to attract attention. It was enough to alert the press and the crowd surged in that direction.<\/p>\n Ben was getting out of the car as it came to a barely rolling pause. Up the stairs beside the emergency vehicle ramp he went then quickly ducked through the door Mueller was holding open. He paused at the door, knowing the one way glass shielded him. He saw Joe smile and nod then the purple sports car literally jumped away from the threatening crowd and he was gone. No explanation, no words traded, no plans made; just the sight of the car disappearing around the corner said all that needed to be said between father and son. Each would take care of their particular responsibilities that morning.<\/p>\n “Thought you might not want to talk with those vultures just yet, sir.” The tenor of the big man’s voice always surprised Ben. If nothing else, Ed Mueller looked like a pro-wrestler yet he sounded more like a college professor at times. This was one of them. “Ted is preparing a statement for you for the press. He told me he’d have it ready anytime you asked for it. And….” He let the word dangle.<\/p>\n Ben looked back at his companion as they hurried towards the bank of elevators. “And what?” He reached to press the up button to take him to the third floor but Ed’s massive hand blocked him.<\/p>\n “And he said that he’d have two versions for you. One to say that because of this happening, you would be withdrawing from the senatorial race.” Ed gazed steadily at the big white-haired rancher-businessman-politician.<\/p>\n “And the other?” Ben tried to make his voice neutral.<\/p>\n “The second one, while bemoaning what has happened, stating that it was your intention to continue in the race to Washington.”<\/p>\n Ben thought for a moment, then maneuvered the other man’s hand out of the way. He pressed the button and the elevator door popped open. Mueller entered the elevator with him.<\/p>\n “Tell Ted to prepare a third version. One that says while we are confident that my son will come through this ordeal, we will not be campaigning. That my focus right now is my son, my family, and only them. Ask the press to respect-”<\/p>\n Mueller smiled and when the doors opened on the third floor, nodded succinctly to Ben. “Say no more, sir. I told Ted that’s what you’d want. You take care of your son. Let Ted and Amanda and me handle the press. By the way, tell your other son, Adam, that I am sorry about that beautiful building. It was a one of a kind.”<\/p>\n It was Ben’s turn to nod and smile. When he said “I will, and thanks” the doors were already closing, leaving him alone in the hallway. He shook his head, thinking how lucky he had truly been to have the Independents helping him – not with just his campaign but with a nuumber of other things. The rustled cattle that had not been found yet they had helped find those responsible for the theft of the Ponderosa’s prime Black Angus, as well as the near-death beating Joseph had taken. They had proved over and over again that they were just what they had told him the first time they’d met: Nevadans for Nevada.<\/p>\n He paused at the nurses’ counter, and asked if there had been any improvement overnight. The bright-eyed little nurse wiped the helpful smile off her face as she responded that there had been no change. Ben thanked her and headed on towards where his middle son lay surrounded by wheezing machines and all manner of items meant to keep him breathing, and alive, Ben noted grimly. Even as he took in the shockingly bruised face of his son, it came to him that he was not alone in the room. Stretched out across a series of chairs, his eldest slept. Unable to watch the bouncing lines on the monitors around Hoss, unable to help them cure his son, Ben turned his attention to the one son he could do something about.<\/p>\n When a sleepy dark eye greeted him through a bank of brain-fog, Ben chided him. “I thought Paul said you got the last hospital bed. Why aren’t you in it?”<\/p>\n Adam hitched an obviously pained breath as he sat up, his long bare feet daring to touch the cold linoleum floor. He adjusted the blue hospital gown over his shoulders, his dark jeans rasping noisily. “Just because they gave me a bed doesn’t mean I had to sleep in it,” was his explanation then he gave in to the impulse and stretched and yawned.<\/p>\n Ben moved back to Hoss’ side. Painfully aware of the many tubes and wires, along with the traction and cradle for the damaged leg, he found the only part of his son he felt he could safely touch was the back of one hand. Using the slightest pressure, he let his fingers rest there, praying that some how Hoss knew he was there.<\/p>\n “There wasn’t any change overnight,” Adam whispered as he came to stand with his father. “Alex – I mean Doctor Conover-”<\/p>\n “Alex is fine. I know who you mean.”<\/p>\n “Well she said that it wasn’t unusual in this sort of circumstances. The brain just has to take a step back and try and figure out what’s happening. They’ve been keeping a close eye on him; nurses in here every ten minutes or so all night long.”<\/p>\n “That means you didn’t get much sleep, did you?” Ben tried for a slightly teasing tone as he chided his son with an eyebrow cocked in his general direction.<\/p>\n “I got enough. Besides, I thought it was important to be here.”<\/p>\n “You are beginning to sound like another son of mine.”<\/p>\n Chagrined, Adam studied how his naked feet looked on the white floor. “Speaking of said son, where is he?”<\/p>\n “Meeting with Roy up to…up at the….” Ben hesitated. He knew how much the hotel had meant to Adam. As it had risen up through the pines, he’d recognized the actualization of a drawing his eldest had made when he was a boy and knew that it was a secret dream coming true. But now that dream lay in ruins and the pain of its death must hurt the dreamer.<\/p>\n Softly, Adam cursed as if to himself. “Don’t suppose Hop Sing sent me a shirt, did he?”<\/p>\n Ben faced him. “No, he didn’t. Besides, I don’t think Paul has released you, has he?”<\/p>\n “No, but I need to be up there. To answer Roy’s questions.” Astonishingly quickly, the room had become too small, too confining to Adam.<\/p>\n Ben sighed and looked away, back to his silent son. “I’ll tell you the same thing that was explained to me this morning.” He made the word ‘explained’ stand out. “The name of the company is Cartwright and Sons -plural- Construction. As your brother pointed out – rightfully so, I believe- he knows as much if not more about that building than you do.”<\/p>\n “But I designed-”<\/p>\n “He built it, Adam. You know what it looked like on paper but he put his hands on it at every step of the way. No, I believe he’s right – even if I hate to admit it. He’s the one that needs to talk with Roy, with the Arson Squad. He knows the most about it and can maybe show it to them in ways you couldn’t.”<\/p>\n “He’s not close enough-” Adam’s voice raised unconsciously and his father looked at him sharply.<\/p>\n “He is, Adam. And you are too close. ”<\/p>\n “Both of you are too close,” hissed Paul Martin as he made his way into the room. He glanced quickly at the monitors, absorbing whatever information they could give him in that single heartbeat. “But you, Adam Cartwright, aren’t within shouting distance of where you’re supposed to be. Last I recall, Room 214 is on the second floor of this institution. I think I saw one of my junior colleagues down there looking for you a few minutes ago. Now go. I’ll be down there directly after I talk with your father.”<\/p>\n “Pa,” Adam pleaded to stay with the single word but Doctor Martin would have none of it.<\/p>\n “I need to talk with your father alone,” he insisted.<\/p>\n When they were alone, Paul pulled Ben to one of the chairs Adam had used in his bed. “Sit, Ben.” Like the proverbial ton of bricks, it hit the physician as the two men – old friends- sat in the morning sunlight streaming through the window at their side. Once before he’d had to tell his old friend that a loved one’s life was in peril. While he would not express it at that moment, he felt that the outcome would be the same. He’d had the sad duty years ago of telling Ben that his beloved Marie….Survival was not a given in his business; most of the time it was simply Life’s odds playing themselves out. He steeled himself, willed himself, to think positive then he cleared his throat and began.<\/p>\n “We want to do some more tests this morning, Ben. Scans and such. I’ve asked Doctor Noah Ridley from Reno to come down. He’s a damn fine neurosurgeon and I’m gonna leave the testing and all up to him.”<\/p>\n “Neurosurgeon?” Ben echoed. “What sort of tests?”<\/p>\n “Tests that can help us make a decision about Hoss’ care. We need to know what’s going on inside Hoss’ brain. Is there damage that we can repair? Or is it too-” He slammed to a halt for he had gone down a track he’d told himself that he would wait to travel.<\/p>\n Ben finished the doctor’s words, seeing his own pain in the other’s face. “Or is there too much damage. If that’s the case, Paul, how long can he live like this?” He couldn’t help but look to the bed where his son rested.<\/p>\n “A long, long time. If that’s what you want for him. But this conversation is much too soon. That’s why we need to do the tests, Ben.” Paul’s whole being screamed silently, willing his voice to carry hope to the listening father.<\/p>\n His hand shook as it creased his trouser leg but Ben’s voice remained strong. “Do your tests, Paul. When we know the outcome, then we’ll make whatever decision we need to make. Not just you and I, but I want Adam and Joe-” His strength faltered and his words crumbled into silence.<\/p>\n “I’ll tell the desk. Now then, what about you? Did you sleep last night like I told you to? You’ve got to take care of yourself so you can help Hoss get through this.” Paul rambled on for a few minutes, cajoling and mock-threatening the father but he was sure Ben didn’t hear any of it.<\/p>\n He was right.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The old Jaguar growled as Joe downshifted into first gear to finish climbing the sloped drive. Then, purring like an overgrown housecat, it obediently stopped just beyond the parking lot. Yesterday there had been twenty to thirty vehicles of every make and model sitting there waiting for their owners to finish work and come back to them. When Joe had left there that same evening, those same vehicles looked like a giant child had lost interest in playing with his Match-box cars and had dumped them into a pile. Now, as he levered himself out of the sports car, three tow trucks were sorting through them, hooking onto them and pulling them away. In the midst of the shrieking metal stood Jenny, a clipboard and pen in her hand. Off to one side milled a knot of about a dozen men. They all started towards Joe when they saw him.<\/p>\n One man, a painter, was first to speak. “The cops won’t let us get our tools, Joe.” He gestured up the hill where yellow plastic crime scene tape encircled the remains of the building, spreading out to include everything- machinery, trees, even a black metal lunch bucket that sat on the wall of the empty swimming pool.<\/p>\n Another man, one of the young Paiute carpenters, chimed in hotly. “How are we supposed to work without our tools? Ain’t fair, man.”<\/p>\n “I agree with you but from what I know about such things – which ain’t much, mind you- they have to have things pretty much left alone to do their investigation.” Joe tried to put a large dose of adult conviction in his voice – anything to overcome the childish desire to scream and cry that dwelled in his heart. He tried a wry smile. “Besides, Jimmy, I thought you were gonna give up carpentry ’cause it bit too deep into your beer-drinkin’ time.”<\/p>\n Jimmy, a young black man with two gold-capped front teeth, smiled back and nodded that Joe was right. “That’s right! I was! But that was last week and this is this week. Speakin’ of which, how we gonna get paid this week?” To a man, they all looked away, ashamed. Even as he studied a tow truck hauling away a wrecked car, the painter spoke the words the others felt. “Don’t know ’bout the others but workin’ on this here hotel was somethin’ to brag about. Been a painter a long time, I have, and most jobs is just a pay check. Not this one. I was proud of this one.”<\/p>\n A murmur went through the gathered men, agreeing with him. It touched Joe.<\/p>\n “Like I said, end of the week if you can wait that long. Takes the money-girls at the office that long to get it put together. If you can’t wait, let me know and I’ll figure something out. If your ride is in that pile Jenny is helping get sorted out, we’ll get that fixed too. I’ll get what of your tools I can from up there. If there’s some missing, I’ll see to it that they’re replaced. Spread the word, will you? Friday at noon I’ll meet with everyone at the Carson City office. ”<\/p>\n To a man, they shook Joe’s hand as they left. He felt drained standing there alone on the black asphalt with the mid-morning sun beating on his head. He’d played the brave words over and over in his head that morning and thought he would come through it all right. He had and he hadn’t. Saying the words out loud had pulled much out of him and there was still more to come.<\/p>\n “Joe?” Jenny’s soft call brought him back from the edge of sorrow he’d stood on. “How’s Hoss?” When he said that he hadn’t heard anything, she continued with “we need to talk some.”<\/p>\n With a sigh and a tight smile, Joe turned to face her. Give her credit, he thought. She looks the same way she does every day. Completely unflappable. “I’m all yours, my dear madam. By the way, how did you get up here this morning? Last I saw you were at the hospital last night.”<\/p>\n She smiled the same tight smile. “Rosalie took me around to the company lot last night and I took the last Jeep there. I hope you don’t mind. Guess I should have left it for you since Adam is gonna want his car back and you’ll be walkin’.”<\/p>\n “No. You keep the Jeep. Wait. Maybe I should give you the Grape -” he began to tease. She slapped playfully at his arm, all the while telling him that it was going to be his flesh frying when Adam saw the hot-wired ignition.<\/p>\n He put an arm across her shoulder as they walked together up the slope towards the tape barricade. “You mean to tell me that you can’t fix that? Jenny! I am surprised. I thought that there wasn’t anything you couldn’t fix.”<\/p>\n Jenny fingered the plastic tape. Uncharacteristically, her voice quivered as she spoke softly. “Wish that was true, Joe. I’d start with Hoss and when I got finished with him, I’d be right here setting things to right. This is bad no matter how we try to say it isn’t.” “It ain’t me I’m worried about. I been around long enough to know what’s gonna happen. All those hurt men, those damaged cars and trucks and most of all, this beautiful hotel. I can see trouble from now to when your grandchildren are old and gray.”<\/p>\n Despite the wisdom in her words, Joe tried to make of light of the situation by telling her that she’d better find him a wife first. “That is unless you’re proposing to me.” He couldn’t help but wink at her upturned face as he pulled her closer to his side. She shook her head and was about to tell him to be serious when Roy Coffee’s shout took it all away.<\/p>\n Together the grizzled old county sheriff and the young construction superintendent walked what was left of the glorious endeavor. From where Jenny stood watching as she gave barely half her attention to the vehicles the tow trucks were taking away, it seemed a cordial discussion. Only once did Joe turn and appear to brace the sheriff but Coffee’s hand had delivered a gentle pat to Joe’s arm before they turned and walked further into the debris field. She made note of a license plate number on a battered red pick-up at the same time she saw them both drop out of sight into the wreckage.<\/p>\n “Lady? Hey, lady? You get the plate on the Jeep?” a driver called out, startling her.<\/p>\n Rather than tell him that she didn’t need it, that she knew the Jeep was Joe’s from the company fleet, Jenny smiled and nodded. Left alone now with only the remaining trucks, Jenny found her legs shaking too badly to hold her up. She took the short walk to the upturned trailer and sat on the steps that had once led to her office.<\/p>\n How long had she worked for Cartwright and Sons Construction? More years than she could count and back before it had the “and Sons” attached. They’d built more projects than she could remember. She chastised herself. It never felt like work to her. Instead it was just something she did. Lord knew, she’d needed something to do all those years ago after her mother had finally died. It had never occurred to her to go back to college and finish the degree she’d started before her mother’s declining health had called a halt to it. But Ben Cartwright had hired her right off, knowing she had no experience and no secretarial skills to speak of. Had she thought that perhaps some day the widowed rancher…no, she knew better than to tack on any romantic notion to their relationship. Yet she had treated his sons like they were her own – or almost like they were hers. Seeing the youngest one’s head poke up from the rubble, she laughed to herself. Okay, maybe she’d treated that one like her own. And maybe Hoss….<\/p>\n She forced her thoughts away from Hoss and his condition yet it came crashing back into her heart. To lose the hotel had been one thing but to lose a beloved son was another – even if he wasn’t hers.<\/p>\n “Lady? Hey, lady! ‘Scuse me but I’m looking for someone from the construction company. One of the Cartwrights here?” The man speaking was what Jenny always thought of as a “medium person”- medium size and nothing to make him stand out in a crowd. The medium man said that he wasn’t the press and that he’d go on up, that he wasn’t leery of crime scene tape. Or a cranky sheriff.<\/p>\n “You part of Cartwright and Sons Construction?” he asked when Joe and Roy turned to him.<\/p>\n “Yeah. I’m Joe Cartwright. Who are you?” Joe asked, extending his hand as if to shake hands.<\/p>\n “Doesn’t matter. You’ve been served.”<\/p>\n The blue-folder burned his hand as it was slapped into Joe’s palm. The other man turned and walked away, oblivious to the daggered glare Joe shot at his back. When he figured it had no effect on the process-server, he opened the folder. He swore, not lightly, and certainly not softly but loudly and elegantly, using words that made Roy Coffee uncomfortable hearing.<\/p>\n “Easy, boy,” the sheriff warned.<\/p>\n Joe would have nothing of it. “That son of a bitch Grissom is suing us.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The headache that pounded right behind his left temple was what made Adam Cartwright swear softly. No, it was the legalese he was reading, he told himself. Then he corrected the thought – it was the legalese he understood that made him swear. The first few paragraphs he got through before he hissed a muted “damn.”<\/p>\n Joe, having simply handed his brother the blue folder, had walked to the hospital window and stood with his back to Adam. “Said that,” Joe sighed to the blue sky after hearing the single word.<\/p>\n Adam glanced at his brother’s back yet returned quickly to the document, scanning the next page. Another pair of blasphemous words escaped him when he saw a dollar figure.<\/p>\n “Said those, too.” Joe leaned against the window sill and looked down towards the parking lot Again Adam looked up but then quickly folded the papers back together and slammed them down onto his hospital bed. “That son of a -” he began but Joe cut him off with a waving finger and a cautionary ah-ah-ahh.<\/p>\n “Say that and Roy Coffee will threaten to wash your mouth out with soap.” Joe leaned against the window, his arms now across his chest and the sunlight streaming passed him. “Sure, because Roy’s threat seemed pretty serious to me.”<\/p>\n “I mean about this.” Adam picked up the blue folder only to let it drop back onto the sheet covering his legs. “This is serious stuff, Joe, so quit clowning around.”<\/p>\n Even as his brother demanded it of him, Joe became serious-minded. He took the few steps that put him at the foot of his eldest brother’s hospital bed and he leaned down, planting his fists on either side of his brother’s feet. “All right, I’ll be serious. This is the sort of thing we keep a lawyer on retainer for, Adam. I brought it here to you so you wouldn’t think I was keeping anything from you. I know it’s serious business but it doesn’t change what we need to do.”<\/p>\n “Yes, by all means take it to John Mears,” Adam’s words seemed to jump at Joe as he named the attorney who handled many things for the Cartwrights, including business matters when necessary. He dropped his head back onto the hard pillow. His head was beginning to really pound now.<\/p>\n “That’s not all.” When Adam hadn’t taken the bait, Joe continued. “We don’t mention any of this to Pa. He’s got enough on his plate right now with Hoss. He doesn’t need this too.”<\/p>\n “But his campaign-”<\/p>\n “I’ll talk with that guy Ted, and Amanda What’s-her-name. I’ll fill them in but otherwise, I say we don’t say a thing to Pa.”<\/p>\n “It’s his business, Joe,” Adam countered, all fight draining away with his strength.<\/p>\n “No. It’s our business. Yours, mine, Hoss’ and Pa’s. It belongs to all of us. You may run most of the engineering-type things and it may look like I work for you but we know the truth. All of us, we all work for the family. We all have equal say in how things are handled, right?” He barely let Adam nod before he plunged on. “If you and I decide on a way to handle something, that’s pretty much what’ll happen because right now Hoss can’t vote. Besides, there is only one way to handle this: give it to our lawyer. Comply with the investigations. Hold nothing back.”<\/p>\n “Nothing but not telling our father? Joe – you have no idea about the magnitude of this! Grissom is looking for a hundred and thirty some million dollars in lost revenues alone! Add to that what he feels the value of building would have been.”<\/p>\n “He had insurance that would cover that! You said we’d released the building to him.” Sobered, Joe picked up the dreaded paper. “I’m taking this to Mears when I leave here. First one of us who sees Pa, tells him. Deal?”<\/p>\n “Why do I have a feeling I am getting the short end of the stick? Again? But you’re right. The sooner Mears has this in his hands, the sooner he can start making things happen. And Pa doesn’t have to read the damn thing to know about it. Go on, get out of here. Paul says I need to rest and I can’t do that while you’re standing there beating me at my own game.”<\/p>\n “While you’re surrendering to me, how about giving me the keys to the Grape?”<\/p>\n The request threw Adam off his stride and he was handing his brother the keys when it struck him that Joe seemed inordinately pleased with their impending easy acquisition. “Just take it home from the site and park it. Put the cover on it, please.”<\/p>\n “Can’t do that.” Joe reached for the keys only to have Adam’s hand close fist-tight over them.<\/p>\n “Why not?”<\/p>\n “Because right now, it’s either Pa’s Lincoln, Hop Sing’s station wagon or the Grape. My Jeep and Hoss’ pickup were wrecked the explosion and the aftermath. And since Doc Martin hasn’t let you go yet, you don’t need the Grape. I do. Gimmee the keys.”<\/p>\n Sensing something else was amiss, Adam tucked the hand holding the keys behind his back and away from Joe’s reach. “When Hell freezes over. Go get the Wayward Ford and drive it.” Adam named the ranch truck that had seen far better days and that their father had banned operating over twenty miles an hour.<\/p>\n Joe was about to further protest when Adam’s secretary Rosalie entered the room, a pile of papers in her arms. “You know that the folks out in the hallway can hear you two arguing. By the way, Joe, I saw the hospital’s rent-a-cop sticking something under the wiper blade of the Jag. Looked like it might be a parking ticket.”<\/p>\n To Adam’s credit, he didn’t shout. He couldn’t. Joe had already departed and he wouldn’t have heard it anyway.<\/p>\n “How did he do it?” Adam asked his arm, his palm resting on his forehead.<\/p>\n Rosalie, completely oblivious to all that had just gone on – after all, what woman can understand the importance a man places on his vehicle?- simply shrugged her shoulders. “Jenny said that he did something to the ignition.”<\/p>\n Adam groaned. Loudly. Even though she started going through the many things that required Adam’s attention, she knew she didn’t have a hundred per cent of it. At least not until they both caught the distinctive motor sound of a 1965 Jaguar XKE at high revolutions. Adam shook his head and again muttered something about the need for revenge to be served cold. John Mears, attorney and president of the Nevada Bar Association, smiled as he listened to the almost-whine in Joe Cartwright’s voice. With a sigh, he leaned forward and placed the legal papers he’d been reading on his desk top. He started to chew on his lower lip, mirroring young Cartwright’s nervous action, then stopped himself. Appear positive above all else, he told himself. He removed his reading glasses and put his elbows on the desk, bracketing the papers, making them his.<\/p>\n “That’s what you pay me for, Joe. This-” He glanced at the papers, the words now blurs to him without his glasses. “This is the same thing for me that a set of blue-prints are for you. I see what is going to have to be done the same way you can. First things first though. You said this was delivered to you this morning out to the hotel site.”<\/p>\n Joe nodded. “I was meeting with Roy Coffee. He wanted a quick run-down on the explosion before the State’s arson squad got there to investigate.”<\/p>\n “And you gave it to him? The quick run-down?”<\/p>\n Again, Joe nodded and the attorney frowned. “Wish you would have contacted me and had me there with you. Tell me, word for word as best you can remember what you said and what he said.”<\/p>\n For the next ten minutes, Joe paced the room, unable to sit still any longer as he recalled the conversation he’d had. Part of him wanted to say that he trusted Roy implicitly. The other part sensed the wariness that seemed to fill the lawyer’s sunny office. “…and then the process server dropped his little bombshell and walked away.”<\/p>\n “And that’s it?”<\/p>\n “Except for the sheriff threatening to wash my mouth out for swearing, yes. I left right after that. Went to the hospital to talk this over with Adam before I came here.” “We decided that it was more important that he concentrate on Hoss right now. ‘Sides, he would have had me do just what I did – bring it to you.”<\/p>\n Mears leaned back in his chair once more, his long fingers toying with his glasses’ legs. “Tell me about the hotel. About building it.”<\/p>\n Joe huffed once, ran his hand back through his hair and began to tell the story of constructing a dream.”Sure. This was a design-build job. Kind of like design it as you build it…” He wasn’t aware of the mental notes Mears was making as he spoke. Instead, he told of the problems encountered and overcome, the constant battle to stay within an unwritten budget and the pressure he’d placed upon himself to build the perfect building. He wasn’t aware of the soft awe in his own words as he told of the rising structure catching and reflecting the beauty of Lake Tahoe. When he finished, he fell back into his chair, his once dancing hands now limp and seemingly exhausted in his lap, drained and overwhelmed with sadness for something now missing from his life.<\/p>\n “Tell me, Joe, while you were there, did you keep notes on what was going on? I know that sometimes construction people, they keep a diary of sorts. Call ’em daily reports, maybe?”<\/p>\n “Sure. Have to do better than that to keep some clients happy. Or brothers. I took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures – digital ones. From the first ground breaking right on up to…that day…that morning. I also taped comments all day long as I walked around the site, running the crane or the backhoe. Talked about what’s going on, who’s doing what. That sort of thing. Gave the tape to Jenny every morning for the day before. She typed it up, printed it and the pictures and put it together into a package for the home office. The person who brings the paychecks on Friday usually takes the week’s reports back with them.”<\/p>\n “On Fridays.” Mears shook his head. The explosion had happened on Monday. The pictures of that fatal morning were most likely lost. “Did she keep a file in her computer?” He mentally pictured charred computer remains carrying away that valuable information.<\/p>\n “Better than that. She started sending ’em, emailing the report and the pictures to Adam every day so he would quit pestering us about what was going on when he couldn’t come out to the site.” In spite of himself, Joe smiled. “Jenny always wants some distance between the home office and hers so the farther she could keep Adam away, the easier she is to deal with.”<\/p>\n “One last thing, Joe. You said this was something called a design-build project. Does that mean there weren’t any blueprints for it?”<\/p>\n “First of all, John, they aren’t called blueprints anymore. Just plans. And yes, there were plans for it all right. You start with a set of plans that are pretty basic so that you can get things rolling, men working. As you go, any changes or designs that you do are red-lined, drawn with a red pencil, onto them. In the end, what you have are a set of plans known usually as ‘as-builts’. In this case, you have ‘the plans’.”<\/p>\n Now, instead of the charred electronics, the attorney saw a pile of paper ashes. “And these as-builts of yours were in the office trailer that burnt?”<\/p>\n “Nope.”<\/p>\n Now it was John Mears’ turn to smile. Fortune, he thought, was turning in their favor for once.<\/p>\n “They were in the building.”<\/p>\n John Mears lost his smile.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Nothing.” The pale neurologist repeated the word, shaking his head as he did so. For an instant, Doctor Paul Martin wanted to wrap his hands around the other’s scrawny, chicken-like neck and shake it. Maybe even snap it. So blunt, so callous and unfeeling in his word choice, what were they teaching for bed-side manner in medical schools now days? Okay, so he was only talking to a colleague, and his words weren’t necessarily aptly colored for a family member. Yet Paul Martin at that precise moment felt very much a member of the Cartwright family if only by a phantom and tenuous blood-line. A blood-line soon to be stretched thin if he had to tell Ben Cartwright that his middle son was….No, he had to find some hope for the family to cling to.<\/p>\n “All the tests come back that way?” Paul had to swallow hard to get his words out but even then, they were strained.<\/p>\n “There is some reaction to pain stimuli but that is more autonomic in my opinion.” The other doctor’s lips moved tightly as he spoke, giving the impression that he was squeezing them out of his mouth. “Face it, Doctor Martin. That body is nothing right now but an organ donor. I did see that on his chart, did I not? We need to move quickly, get those organs harvested and to patients who can use them.”<\/p>\n “But you also said that there was swelling in the brain. Could that cause the results you see here? I mean-”<\/p>\n “Doctor Martin, please. You brought me down here for my expert opinion. I have given it to you. What you do with it from here on out is your business.” With a swirl of white coat tails, the neurologist turned, placed Hoss Cartwright’s chart on the nurses’ desk and headed down the hallway.<\/p>\n “Must have a noon tee-off time,” Martin grumbled under his breath as he reached for the chart.<\/p>\n “Jameson doesn’t play golf. Says it’s too strenuous to walk all that distance in our high desert air.” Doctor Alexander Conover explained, edging up beside the older physician. The pert brunette’s sleeve brushed his as she handed another chart to a waiting nurse. Getting out of your hearing range so he can talk about the infamous Paul Martin, M.D. and how he doesn’t like to hear bad news? Alex thought, never daring to voice it. She’d learned early on how the older doctor was – especially when it concerned the Cartwright family. First hand when she’d repaired a punctured lung and broken rib on the youngest. Then she’d made the near-fatal error of dating the eldest son. Not that the date itself was nearly fatal. No, it was the grilling she got by Martin pertaining to her intentions with Adam Cartwright. It had taken all of her powers of persuasion to convince him that she really did like Adam and wanted to see him again. Hadn’t she even excused herself from the surgery rotation the night before so she wouldn’t be the one operating on his brother? Okay, sure it was so she could look out for Adam instead. Considering the outcome of the surgery….<\/p>\n “I truly don’t know, Doctor Martin. Am I to guess that the tests on Hoss Cartwright weren’t exactly positive?”<\/p>\n “Can you read these squiggles?” Martin held up the chart, a page signed by the neurologist topmost and visible.<\/p>\n She took it from him and tried to make sense of it, recalling little of her training rotation in neurology. “I would say that this line-” She pointed to a red line that ran straight across the graph. “Is this brain wave activity? But then what are these blue lines that go jumping all over the place?”<\/p>\n “Or the green one that spikes right there in the middle?” Paul’s blunt finger traced the green mountain shaped line. “Guess maybe I should’ve asked Jameson?” His head shook just once. “Not in this life time nor the next would I ever do such a thing.”<\/p>\n “So what do you go in there and say to Mister Cartwright?” She didn’t envy him the task before him and it showed clearly in her face.<\/p>\n “What I don’t do is go in there and tell him that his son is a vegetable ready to be harvested.” His emphasis on the word was intentional. A shudder shook him unconsciously. “Your training is much more up to date on such things so tell me, Doc Alex, how long can we wait before his organs aren’t useful anymore? Not that I….” he couldn’t finish the thought, much less the sentence.<\/p>\n “I’d have to look it up,” she admitted.”My guess is that Hoss could stay the way he is for a long, long time. Remember that woman in New Jersey back in the seventies? I know when she eventually died of pneumonia, they used some of her organs successfully. But nowdays, they like ’em fresh.” Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened. “Oh God! I didn’t mean that like it sounded, Doctor Martin. I truly didn’t. So flippant and uncaring. I’m sorry, sir.”<\/p>\n As a reward, he patted her shoulder and nodded. He understood. Things were different with this new generation of doctors coming up. How long would it be before he was truly an old dinosaur despite the effort he made to stay current?<\/p>\n “So, Doctor Conover. How about you go in there and tell Ben Cartwright that we need to pull the plug on his boy?” Martin intentionally used words, phrases and attitude more like hers.<\/p>\n “No, sir.”<\/p>\n “And why not?”<\/p>\n “Very simple, sir. I don’t believe these tests, these scans and all this rigamarole can accurately tell us without a doubt that what makes Hoss Cartwright a thinking human being is dead. You and I have both seen miracles happen and that’s the only word for them – miracles.”<\/p>\n Paul Martin probed a little deeper. “So what do you think we should do?”<\/p>\n She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and looked up at him. There were sudden tears in her eyes. “Something I haven’t done in a long time, Doctor.” She turned to leave him yet paused when he asked what it was. Her hand dashed across her cheek as she answered him with a single word.<\/p>\n “Wait a minute,” he whispered and took her elbow to walk with her. “We’ll both go pray together. Maybe together, God’ll help us.”<\/p>\n “And Hoss.”<\/p>\n “Especially him.”<\/p>\n The Nevada State Patrol officer was a little shocked when the Storey County sheriff’s SUV made a quick U-turn and pulled up behind him. He tucked the driver’s license of the speeder he’d caught into his citation book and strolled back to meet the sheriff.<\/p>\n “Something I can help you with, Sheriff Coffee?” he asked, fighting the impulse to snap a salute. Every patrolman in this part of the state knew the grizzled old man and respected him. Almost more than they respected their own State Police commanders.<\/p>\n “I saw who you got stopped. Want to tell me about it real quick-like?” Even as he asked, he was reaching for the half-completed citation.<\/p>\n “Caught him running a solid ninety-five across the Washoe Causeway. Pulled him over then I saw the ignition wires were pulled out. Said it’s his brother’s car and that he has permission to drive it. Claimed he was just coming from his lawyer’s office in Reno to meet with you. I called it in.”<\/p>\n The older man took a deep breath and let it hiss out between his teeth, the air moving his mustache a trifle. “It is his brother’s car and considering that his brother – brothers, actually- are in the hospital down in Carson.” Roy paused and looked up from his reading, the tablet bouncing in his hands. He shifted mental gears before he went on, ripping off the top page of the officer’s citation book as he did. “I’ll handle this. You get on the radio and tell your dispatch that.” He handed the book back to the startled patrolman. “Go on. Like I said, I’ll take care of this.”<\/p>\n “But, sir, he was doing -”<\/p>\n “I heard you the first time but did you hear me? Good. Now go catch some California tourist and fine the living daylights out of them. Leave this Nevada boy to me.”<\/p>\n Roy waited until the black and white had pulled away before he strolled up on the passenger’s side of the waiting Jaguar. He didn’t hesitate. He opened the door and settled himself in the seat as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. A quick glance showed him that, yes indeed, the ignition wires were pulled out of their housing, ends stripped bare of insulation.<\/p>\n “Young pup said you were doing ninety-five. That true?”<\/p>\n Joe Cartwright picked his head up from his crossed arms on the steering wheel. A shrug preceded the quirky half-smile. “I was slowing down to hit the curve. Can’t take that at more than ninety or so or you wind up out in Washoe flats.”<\/p>\n The sheriff pursed his lips and tried to figure out if his leg was being pulled. He’d give it a shot. “That isn’t exactly so, Joseph Cartwright. Eighty is the max you can do and not lose the road here. I know. I’ve done it.”<\/p>\n “Not in this car you haven’t.”<\/p>\n “Not in this car you haven’t. At least not with your brother’s blessing. Speaking of which, does he know about this?” His fingers wiggled in the direction of the dangling wires.<\/p>\n Joe wondered how to go about answering the lawman. The truth and the whole truth would most likely gain him a long dissertation on property rights – brother or no brother. A half truth would have it come up again later – probably at a most inconvenient moment. “He knows I have the Jag. Told him earlier this morning. I’ll fix this back the way it was when I get the keys. Promise.”<\/p>\n “I haven’t a doubt in the world that you will, Joseph. No sir, not a doubt in the world, but tell me this: where were you headed in such an hurry? You told the officer that you were headed for a meeting with me but I don’t recall such.”<\/p>\n “I wanted to catch you in your office and ask you for a favor.”<\/p>\n “Ever heard of these things called phones? I see yours stickin’ out of your shirt pocket and I know you have my cell phone number.”<\/p>\n “Okay, I’m busted but if that’s a fact, why did you tear up that ticket and send the State boy away? Oh, and I’ll take my license back, if you would please?” He reached for the small rectangle of plastic but the sheriff held it out of reach. “I need to get on the other side of that yellow crime scene tape up at the hotel. I need to find something important there. Jenny said that the arson squad was still there. Help me, Roy.”<\/p>\n “What is it that you’ve got to find, boy? What could be worth enough to put my job and my pension on the line to help you? That’s a crime scene now and to take something from it is against the law.”<\/p>\n “It’s the plans for it. The hotel. There is only one set of them that’s marked up the way it was built. I need ’em, Roy. Help me.”<\/p>\n Several cars went by as the lawman thought about what he’d been asked to do. He knew to the depth of his bones that he couldn’t break the law even for his oldest friend’s son. Was there a way around the problem? There had to be. Two identical cars went by and gave him the solution. “How about a copy of them? Could you use a copy?”<\/p>\n “You bet! Come on, we’ll get up there, get ’em, take ’em to the home office and get ’em copied-”<\/p>\n “Whoa, boy!” Coffee held up his hand. “You go to the hospital. Your pa needs you there, I got a feeling. I’ll see about getting your copies. That suit ya?”<\/p>\n Joe screwed his face around then reluctantly nodded. “Don’t have any other choice, do I?” To chase the words and answer his own question, he shook his head.<\/p>\n It was Roy’s turn to shake his head as he smiled and began to climb out of the old sports car. “On one condition, young man.” When he had Joe’s attention, he continued. “You slow down. Get a little closer to the speed limit or the next time I’ll wave as I drive by when the State boys have you spread-eagled on the fender. Promise me.”<\/p>\n “But-” sputtered Joe. Roy closed the car door with a solid thump yet still leaned on it, waiting. “Okay, I promise. Now, my license?”<\/p>\n Roy Coffee tucked Joe’s license into the Jag’s ashtray. “Next time I see this car, I’m gonna check the ignition. If it’s fixed, you can take your license out of there and I won’t say nothing to your pa. If it ain’t fixed and your license ain’t there….”<\/p>\n “I get the picture, Roy. I’ll get it fixed. Right away.”<\/p>\n “No. You get to the hospital. Now.”<\/p>\n Just to make sure, Roy tailed Joe all the way to the side street that the hospital staff used to get into the back entrance of the hospital. When Joe turned, he gave a half-wave to the departing SUV, glad to be free of it for the moment. He eased the Jag around the corner and into the far back lot of the hospital, settling for a parking place towards the rear of the lot. He smiled grimly. Adam would be proud of him, taking care of the old sports car the same way he did, guarding it from parking lot dings. But the smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.<\/p>\n He turned the ignition off but didn’t move to get out. Instead, he settled his shoulders against the old leather seat and closed his eyes. That didn’t block out the sun nearly as well as his sun glasses but they’d been left in the cab of the crane at the hotel site. As he took a deep breath, he thought about just going ahead and leaving. He couldn’t. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called the hospital, the nurses’ station on the third floor. He recognized the voice that answered his call and she him. No, she said softly and sadly, there had been no change. The tests and scans done earlier that morning had not come back yet. Yes, his father was there. Alone? Yes and no, she whispered. He’d been in with Hoss yet he’d spoken with several people who’d come by. Knowing that the hospital frowned on anyone other than family in the intensive care ward, he asked who had been there.<\/p>\n “Adam and that dark haired woman who was here last night. I think I heard them say her name was Rosalie. Your brother Adam went back to his own room about ten minutes ago. Want me to connect you -”<\/p>\n “No!” The word leapt from Joe’s mouth. Instantly he realized the sharp tone it had and moderated it into a gentle sigh. “No,” he repeated. “It’s okay. If you get the chance, tell my father….” Tell him what? he asked himself. When the answer came rising bitterly in his throat he went on to say “Tell Pa that I’ll be in later. Thanks, Patty.”<\/p>\n The phone felt heavy in his hand but not as heavy as his heart.<\/p>\n “You gonna sit here all day or what?” came the sassy voice to his ear.<\/p>\n “I haven’t quite made up my mind, Doctor Conover.” He opened his eyes and turned to find his brother’s girl friend leaning on the door sill, her tender smile just inches away.<\/p>\n “Well, you’ve got Adam in a dither,” she chortled, pushing a strand of her rich dark hair back behind her ear.<\/p>\n “Now that’s a new one. Never thought of Adam being in a dither. Rip-snortin’, steel-stranglin’ mule-kickin’ mad at me, yes. But in a dither? Naw, can’t be. Not Adam.”<\/p>\n “Well okay, maybe it was Paul Martin who got him so upset. Adam’s still battling a fearsome headache and limping a little so the good Doctor Martin said he had to stay put. Ran Rosalie out of his room and told her not to bring another sheet of paper or manila file folder within a hundred yards of Adam until he was out of the hospital and back in his office.”<\/p>\n Joe put his head back and laughed at the vision. There was a little relief in it too. Adam was still captive so he wouldn’t be looking for the Grape anytime soon. That meant Joe was still free to make use of it, leaving his father’s Lincoln Town Car and Hop Sing’s ancient Taurus station wagon to them. He scratched his brow, wondering to himself why he loved driving the purple Jaguar he’d named The Grape oh so many years ago. He knew the answer. To torment his brother just on general principal.<\/p>\n “Like I said, you going in?” the woman doctor asked, worried as she’d now asked the same question twice and gotten only the faint smile on Joe’s face for an answer. It took all her will power to not reach out and touch him, checking for some possible unseen and undiagnosed damage from the day before. When he looked at her, she saw that his eyes were clear and focused; his face was unmarked excepted for a small bruise on his jawline.<\/p>\n “No,” he finally said. “Not right now.”<\/p>\n She rounded the long nose of the car and swung her legs over the passenger side door, dropping into the warm leather seat. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about the negative results from the neurological tests; to tell him that his family needed to be all together. Yet still she kept silent, watching the play of emotions across his face.<\/p>\n “I can’t go in there right now,” came his whispered confession. “I just can’t.”<\/p>\n “You know when I watched you pull yourself back together a couple of months ago, when you battled against the pain of those broken ribs, the surgery to repair that one, patch that lung. . . I never took you for a coward, Joseph Cartwright.”<\/p>\n He looked at her and suddenly all of that pain was back. The memory of trying to breathe and only coughing up blood as he sprawled behind his father’s desk. The frantic hope he’d held onto when he thought he’d dialed 911. The confusion that assaulted him as he’d awoken to find a machine breathing for him, making sure he didn’t further damage that punctured lung. It all came back, smothering him.<\/p>\n “When a body is in the shape Hoss is in, do they feel pain?” he asked her, his voice a mere strained whisper.<\/p>\n “We think so but we also think that they know when people are around them. That’s why we encourage loved ones to touch them, to talk to them. But we’re managing Hoss’ pain, Joe. We’ve got him on medications like we did you. The machine that is breathing for him – do you remember how you tried to fight it when you first came to? Hoss would too, so we’ve given him something that kind of makes him relax. Same thing with the heart monitor and the brain wave indicator.”<\/p>\n “Paul Martin said he died twice in the operating room but they brought him back both times. What does that mean? And why isn’t he ?” The facade he’d built around himself was beginning to crumble. Alex Conover’s hand on his shoulder held it in place.<\/p>\n For the moment, she tried to put aside being a doctor, tried to be just a friend with medical knowledge. “There is swelling in his brain, Joe. The neurologist from Reno doesn’t hold out much hope but Paul Martin and I do. So does your father. So should you. Go up there and see him, talk to him. He’s still your brother and he’s still alive.”<\/p>\n He patted her hand and gave her a tight smile. “Not now I can’t.” “That’s part of it, Doctor Conover. He’d do that for me but I can’t do it for him – not yet. Whatever you want to call it – cowardice, shame, whatever- I can’t be up there right now.”<\/p>\n “Why?” Her fingers tightened into a hawk-talon grip on his arm but he didn’t flinch or pull away. No, instead he let his body soften and relax, accepting the punishment.<\/p>\n “Because I asked him – no, I begged him – to come up there yesterday morning. Told him that only his sharp eyes would see things that we had to fix before the County building inspector showed up and wouldn’t give us an occupancy permit. It’s my fault, Doc. If I had done my own work, not foist it off on him, Hoss wouldn’t be laying up there all but dead. So until I can figure out what happened, ” to absolve me of the guilt, “I can’t face him.”<\/p>\n “Accidents happen, Joe. All the time and I can’t think that this was anything but an accident. A horrible, tragic accident but an accident all the same.”<\/p>\n Joe turned and looked at the building before him. “Maybe you’re right but until I get to the why of it -”<\/p>\n “It may be too late when you figure out that I’m right – that was just an accident. Joe, don’t throw this away. I’m not asking you; I’m telling you. Go up there. See him. Talk to him. While he’s still there.”<\/p>\n He caught a fragment of her words and held onto it. Turning the thought over in his mind, he steadied his gaze on the woman beside him. Then slowly spacing the words he repeated what she’d said that had captured him and turned him cold. “While he’s still there. You know something you aren’t telling. And now I know it too. Hoss is all but dead. Just those machines are keeping him alive.” His body jerked as he fought to hold back the choking emotions washing over him. “You don’t have to say another thing, Doctor Conover, except this: when are they going to tell my father? When are they going to pull the plug that is keeping his body alive?”<\/p>\n She longed to grasp him by the shoulders and shake him, to rip away that terrible deadness in his voice. Captured in the confines of the car, it wasn’t possible. There just didn’t seem to be the room for the two of them and the lie she would have to tell him. She stayed silent long enough, staring straight ahead at the side of the brick hospital, until she felt him moving, reaching across her to open the car door.<\/p>\n “You’ll have to excuse me, Doctor. I have some untended business to take care of and I need to go. Please have to courtesy to call me before you tell my father. Give me time to get here, please.” And the fear.<\/p>\n Or was it the hate?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben Cartwright caught himself dozing. His eyelids had become too heavy to hold open and he thought that he would close them for just a moment. When his head fell forward, it jerked him awake. Across Hoss’ bed, Paul Martin grinned at him.<\/p>\n “Didn’t sleep well last night, did you?” the doctor teased gently. “I tell you, Ben, carousing around with women of dubious character at your age can only lead to problems.”<\/p>\n The rancher turned businessman turned politician ran his hands over his face. He tried to wipe away fatigue that had been born of something other than a late night. “Shame on you, Paul Martin. These nurses are above reproach. Except that I have to beg coffee from them.” The nurse that had been in the doorway smiled in the shadows as she turned around, intent on fulfilling his request.<\/p>\n Paul Martin made a few notes on the chart he was carrying then set it aside. He wasted a few moments checking the various monitors and the IV line. Stalling, he was stalling and the problem with that was that he knew it, and Ben knew it. After he’d talked with Alex Conover, and they’d jointly conferred with the Almighty, he’d taken the neurologist’s quick write-up and gone to his hospital office. There, with the help of the Internet, he’d analyzed the report. Twice he’d gone through it, just reading the neatly written lines. Just to be on the safe side – since when did a real doctor write so that it could be read easily?- he checked the AMA site to be sure that Jameson was a real doctor. He was, of course, and had several papers published that Paul skimmed through. Then once more, he read the damning report. How could he argue with medical science? Easy. Like Alex Conover had pointed out, they saw miracles happen and the Cartwright family’d had their fair share of them and maybe a few more. Was that it? They’d used up their allotment? Looking into his old friend’s tired face, he hoped not.<\/p>\n “So what’s the news?” Ben questioned, sipping his fresh cup of coffee and signaling his thanks to the nurse at the same time.<\/p>\n “Well, Adam’s concussion is still giving him the wobblies. Watched him try to stand up at normal speed and if that young lady secretary of his hadn’t been there to catch him, he’d be nursing a broken nose by now. His hip is bothering him some too. So I made myself real unpopular and told him he was staying here another day.” The physician chuckled as he told his little tale – with just a touch of embellishment.<\/p>\n Ben smiled ruefully. “The rest will do him good. He’s been pushing himself much too hard lately, trying to get that hotel finished for Grissom. But what about this one?”<\/p>\n Noting the father’s hand resting atop his son’s, Paul took no satisfaction in what he had to tell. It came to him that Ben had probably known all along that he would hear this speech at some time in his life. As the doctor had struggled with how he would say the words, it had come to him that he’d had them tucked into the back of his mind for many years. It wasn’t this Cartwright son he’d imagined saying them about though. No, even as he’d walked into this room, knowing this discussion was coming, he realized that he’d always envisioned Joe – the reckless, danger-seeking, fast driving, hard living, adrenalin-junky son – as the one Ben would lose. Not Hoss. Not patient, home-loving, cautious, easy, friendly-as-a- puppy-dog, steady- going Hoss. Is that what made it harder?<\/p>\n Even as he began, he watched Ben’s face closely, understanding the impact the words would have. Didn’t the Hippocratic oath start out by telling a physician to do no harm? And here he was, about to inflict more onto a man who’d suffered his share already! It wasn’t right, his mind screamed so he changed what he was about to say.<\/p>\n “As you know, Doctor Ridley- the specialist I wanted- he couldn’t come down from Reno but he sent his associate, Doctor Jameson. Highly qualified man. Maybe more so than Ridley. Well, Jameson ordered up that whole battery of tests. Well, those tests did show little activity, Ben. Reaction to pain stimuli but that’s normal. The fact that the monitor on his breathing went off twice is a good sign. Yes, I know, everyone has that reaction but it shows that he’s trying to breathe on his own at least some of the time.”<\/p>\n “Doctor Jameson said that there was considerable swelling in his brain.” Unconsciously, Ben’s grip had tightened on Hoss’ hand as he spoke.<\/p>\n “Yes, but comparatively speaking, the scan from this morning shows less than last night. In my opinion, we need to wait a little while before we make any decision.” Thin ice, his mind cautioned but the physician shoved the warning aside.<\/p>\n But Ben had caught the words and applied understanding to them. “Make any decision,” he echoed then couldn’t meet his friend’s sympathetic gaze. “Make a decision like taking him off this life support? Make a decision to…to….”<\/p>\n “Like I said,” insisted the doctor and came to that side of the bed. “We need to wait a while longer, Ben. It could be that he’ll come out of this completely when the swelling in his brain goes down some more. We just don’t understand the brain as well as we do other organs in the body.”<\/p>\n Left unsaid was the possibility of Hoss’ remaining in a vegetative state for the remainder of whatever years he could manage. Even the doctor part of Paul Martin couldn’t bring himself to go there. It didn’t matter. Ben Cartwright already had and found that world as hard to deal with as this one.<\/p>\n Martin watched his friend struggling. Try as hard as he might, he found himself saying the words he didn’t want to say. “At some point in the future, you’ll need to make that decision. You’ll need to do what Hoss would want. Would he want to live if it was like this? Or would he want…would he want…?” He heard the pain in his own voice. “And now?” asked the other softly, his words barely audible above the machines’ whirls and clicks.<\/p>\n “Now I am not so sure. Now it is my son that we’re talking about. Not a stranger. Not an abstract. My son. Before this happened, his body was strong – stronger than most men I know. Agile despite his size. Gentle when he needed to be. A body that was happiness personified just like the soul of the man inside. Now, I see him there and it is almost like it isn’t really him. That’s what I worry about. If – a big word – if we take him off the machines and he lives – will it be the Hoss I raised? Or will it just be a shell with the real man locked inside? If we leave him on the machines, how long before his body starts to fight them and we lose him anyway? Or if we pull the machines and he dies….” With his back to the room, he thought no one would see the tears streaming down his face.<\/p>\n The doctor saw Ben’s reflection in the window and turned his attention back to Hoss’ still form. “I can’t answer any of those questions, Ben. I’m sorry. All I can say is that we can wait. Like I said, the swelling in his brain-” He would have gone on but Ben had rounded on him, anger visibly pulsing through him.<\/p>\n “Yes, yes. The swelling is going down but what is it leaving behind? That Doctor Jameson, what did he say? Other than there is some activity.”<\/p>\n “He suggested that you make plans to have Hoss’…his….” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.<\/p>\n “And you? What do you think we should do?”<\/p>\n Paul’s eyes stay glued to his patient, hoping against hope that he was hearing the conversation and could some how join in. He’d have sold his soul to the Devil just to have Hoss wiggle a finger, flicker an eyelid or, better yet, try to take a breath on his own. But his soul was to remain out of jeopardy that morning.<\/p>\n “Maybe,” he sighed, “You and Adam and Joe need to do what Doctor Conover and I did a little while ago.” When Ben asked what that had been, the old doctor leaned both hands on the edge of the bed and dropped his head before he answered. “Pray to God for direction. For help. For mercy.”<\/p>\n “I have been. Since this all began, I have been. But I haven’t gotten an answer yet.”<\/p>\n “Maybe that’s the importance of faith, Ben, the role of it in times like this. We keep on praying, praying for an answer even when we haven’t gotten one, sure that we will get an answer.” Or we don’t like the one we got? But I can’t say that. No, look at his face. He knows it already. Maybe I should have asked for what Jesus asked for in the Garden – let this cup pass from me.<\/p>\n Even as he left the near-silent room, Doctor Paul Martin couldn’t bring himself to ask that of God. Maybe because it was his job. Maybe because he was a friend of the family. Maybe because he’d witnessed too much sadness in their lives. Maybe because he earnestly believed that Hoss Cartwright was due a miracle.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A glimpse at the illuminated numbers on his alarm clock next to his bed told Ben Cartwright that it was on the short side of two in the morning. He wondered what had brought him awake so swiftly then he heard water running near by. In the Sierra Nevada mountains around Lake Tahoe, water running in the middle of the night could signal either one of two things: a busted, frozen water pipe or someone was using water. Since it was warm enough to be sleeping under a thin blanket, Ben dismissed the possibility of a frozen pipe. Therefore, someone was up at an ungodly time of night. The parent in him didn’t need to go through the list. His other two sons were accounted for, courtesy of Carson-Tahoe Hospital. Joe hadn’t been home when he’d gone to bed so it had to be him. Ben shoved aside the notion at first, but it came scurrying back: he had to know that this son was all right.<\/p>\n There was a shaft of light just barely visible under Joe’s bedroom door but Ben could hear the shower running. He raised his hand to knock but decided against it, assuming that Joe wouldn’t be able to hear his soft tapping over the water running. Or at least that would be his parental excuse if questioned. He settled himself on the foot of the bed, ready to wait.<\/p>\n He didn’t have to wait long. Joe, his hair still dripping as he dried off the rest of himself, came through the bathroom door a few minutes later.<\/p>\n “Sorry if I woke you up, Pa. Didn’t mean to,” he muttered, whipping the damp towel around his waist.<\/p>\n “You just getting in? Where have you been?” Even to Ben it sounded confrontational so he softened it. “Could have used you at the hospital today.”<\/p>\n Joe turned his back to his father. He picked up his brush and began to slick back his hair. “Been taking care of some things. Did you talk with Adam this afternoon?” Ben grunted that he had. Joe went on. “I took the lawsuit papers up to John Mears. Had a long talk with him. Went out to the site. Talked with Roy Coffee and some of the crew.”<\/p>\n “What’s Roy saying?”<\/p>\n Besides slow down and get Adam’s car fixed? “Not much. The State boys are looking at the mess and trying to decide what caused it: poor materials or poor workmanship. They can’t envision anything else.”<\/p>\n “You can?” “Have you found any proof of that?” parried Ben.<\/p>\n “They won’t let anyone onto the scene until they’re finished with their investigation.”<\/p>\n “So you have no concrete proof, Joseph. Considering that Grissom has taken the steps he has, I think you should curb both your temper and your accusations before you find yourself on the wrong end of an assault charge.”<\/p>\n Knuckles pressed hard against the cool marble top, he stared at the mirror’s reflection of his father behind him. “For what he’s done to Hoss, I’d take the heat, Pa. Just give me five minutes with Grissom and I’ll have it beat out of him.”<\/p>\n Ben’s lips tightened as he stood and slowly edged toward his son. “I don’t think Hoss would want you to do that, son. Do you? Really?”<\/p>\n “Hoss never let anyone beat on someone when they were down, and right now, Pa, whether we want to admit it or not, we’re on the floor. The stolen cattle, the accident, Hoss, the lawsuit. Pa, we can’t even get a hold on something to pull ourselves up.” He huffed once then turned to face his father.<\/p>\n “Yes, we can, Joseph. We can hold on to one another. Together we can pull ourselves back up. And I’m positive that we can and we will. But first things first. You’ve pulled a few of Paul’s stitches out on your shoulder and it needs bandaging.”<\/p>\n Instinctively, Joe looked at the top of his shoulder. His father was right. Of course. He’d known it all along, feeling the twinge and snag of the stitches earlier when they rubbed against his shirt and jacket that day. Just to make sure, he fingered the line only to have his father brush his hand away.<\/p>\n “Hands off. You boys have any alcohol in here? Of the medicinal type? Stay put while I go get some.”<\/p>\n Obediently, Joe waited but did it sprawled across his bed. It had been a long day following a short night. The beers that he’d downed at the Bucket of Blood that evening had gone quite a ways towards relaxing him. All total, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open while his father rummaged in his own bathroom for whatever it was he thought he needed. At the deep-toned command to scoot over, Joe did so, turning his face from the light his father turned on.<\/p>\n As he liberally doused his son’s shoulder with rubbing alcohol, Ben questioned him as to what the plans were for the construction crews. Joe mumbled a reply that Ben only half heard – and half listened to as well. He pulled the small gap in Joe’s flesh closed then ran a small strip of tape across it.<\/p>\n “Tomorrow you need to get Paul to take a look at this. Have him re-stitch it. Roll a little that way. That’s enough.” In the glare of the bedside lamp, Ben surreptitiously checked Joe’s side where not long ago Doctor Conover’s skills as an orthopedic surgeon had been called into play to mend not only a broken rib but a punctured lung as well. Ben was pleased to find nothing there – no bruise, no scrapes; just a faint pink scar fading quickly.<\/p>\n Another mumbled complaint came from Joe when Ben re-positioned his arm so his shoulder would lay flat. There was nothing from him as his father covered the shoulder wound with gauze then taped it down. Joe remained silent so Ben stood and leaned over so he could see his face. Sure enough, Joe was sound asleep. Ben gathered his first aid supplies then reached for the light switch. He paused, an unbidden thought catching in his throat. Lord, his trembling prayer-thought came, protect this one. Keep him strong. Help him to do what’s right.<\/p>\n He would claim it was stress that made his hand tremble as he turned the light out. Anything but the fear that lingered, squeezing his soul. He’s right, isn’t it? We’re about as far down as we can get. Help him stand, Lord. So he can help me…help us.<\/p>\n Into the darkness of the night, he whispered “good night”.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The words were all but unintelligible early that next morning; only the sound of voices floating through the still air came to Ben as he fought back against the pull of sleep. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, trying to make sense of them but even as he did, the words stopped. A door slammed somewhere. Then there was nothing save the chitter of birds. He took a deep breath and held it, his shoulders pressed into the mattress. Still nothing else. He was about to let himself fall back asleep when he heard the rumble-start of the Grape. The blanket flew and two steps took him to the window overlooking the yard. All it got him was a glimpse of the Jag’s tail lights as the old car paused in its dance around the corner of the barn-garage.<\/p>\n Ben shook his head slowly as he leaned on the window sill. As he’d fallen asleep the night before, he’d promised himself a long talk with his youngest son the next morning. Now was the next morning and that same son had just taken off for only God knew where. Ben straightened his back and reached for the phone on his night stand. His hand hovered over the receiver. The thought twisted to his mind’s surface that even if he’d called Joe’s cell, there was nothing to reassure him that Joe would answer. He had a habit, Ben knew, of taking calls only when he wanted to. It aggravated Ben but there was nothing he could do about it.<\/p>\n Dressed and downstairs, he patiently waited while Hop Sing placed his breakfast before him.<\/p>\n “Did Joe have breakfast?” he asked the cook. “Did he happen to say where he was going this early?”<\/p>\n “Out.” To put the proper punctuation to the one-word sentence, Hop Sing turned away, headed for the kitchen. Before he could make it, Ben called to him, asking him the obvious “out where?”. For that he had no answer so his hands tossed that same nothing into the air. It would have to suffice. He did tell his boss that he was going into town and that he would be back later. Ben wondered if Hop Sing really had something he had to do in town, or was he just escaping down his own rabbit hole the same way Joe had.<\/p>\n As he ate his breakfast of eggs and corned beef hash, Ben made his own plans for the day. It was relatively simple. He would spend as much of it as possible with Hoss. There had been plans made yesterday for him to talk with the neurologist, Doctor Jameson. Depending on the outcome of that meeting, he would either ?<\/p>\n “What am I fooling myself for? Keeping hope alive – keeping Hoss’?” He yanked the napkin from his lap and slammed it onto the table. The silverware jumped. With his jaw clenched tight, he struggled to hold back the thoughts and the words. His big fists pounded the table once, then twice. Before Hop Sing could return and ask him what he wanted, Ben stood up and took the angry strides to stand before the cold fireplace. He longed to poke and jab at burning logs but it was summer. Old habit made him rub the back of his neck, squeezing the tightened muscles there. Nothing gave him the release he sought. He turned on his heels and confronted the empty room.<\/p>\n It wasn’t supposed to be that way – that empty. The table in the dining room would easily have sat six but that morning there was only his place setting. On the credenza by the front door, only his keys lay on its marble top. Only his boot heels rapped on the broad planked floor as he headed to the study. Uneasiness wouldn’t let him settle into the chair there and he had no desire to check the computer for e-mails. All they would say was what he already knew – the pending tragedy that hovered about his head was mourned by others as well. A shout of frustration closed his throat and wouldn’t escape. It left his chest heavy-feeling, every muscle in his big body tight.<\/p>\n When the phone on the desk rang, he snatched it up angrily.<\/p>\n “Mornin’, Ben,” Roy Coffee greeted, ignoring the brusque hello he’d gotten. “Joe there?”<\/p>\n Fight as he might, Ben couldn’t ease his tone. “He left just a bit ago.” He could almost see the sheriff rubbing his mustache with his thumb as the other man asked where Joe had been headed. “He just told Hop Sing he was going out.”<\/p>\n “I’ll catch up to him then.”<\/p>\n “When you do-” Ben began but once more frustration threatened to silence him.<\/p>\n Roy seemed to understand. “I’ll tell him, Ben. Don’t be so hard on him. He’s trying to handle something a whole lot bigger than he ever has before. Shoot! It’s bigger than anything I’ve ever had to deal with. Maybe you, too?”<\/p>\n Ben ignored the gentle chiding coming from his old friend. “Just -” Again his voice faltered.<\/p>\n “I will, Ben,” the sheriff said gently then said good-bye.<\/p>\n It took him a while to hang up the phone. To do so was to be alone again. And that was Ben Cartwright’s greatest fear – to be alone. Forever.<\/p>\n Joe kept one eye on the rear view mirror as the deputy sheriff’s patrol SUV followed him into Carson City. It had been there behind him as he’d come down the Mount Rose Highway and skirted the Washoe Valley, pacing him. He saw the SUV’s headlights blink twice as they approached the first intersection. The big vehicle made a left turn onto College Avenue. Watching from where he was waiting for the red light to turn, Joe raised a hand in salute then waited to make sure the deputy went on down the street. Probably going to report that I’m not speeding- a first time event for sure, according to them, he muttered crossly. When the light turned green, Joe shoved the gear shift into first and the purple Jag jumped across the intersection, crossing over into the other lane well ahead of the car coming up on that side. Two lights later and he made a right turn on a red, headed for the office building that housed Cartwright and Sons Construction’s main office. He parked in his brother’s normal spot – the slot that was big enough for Hoss’ dual wheeled pickup- at the far end of their lot. No one except Joe ever came close to the painted lines while the ’65 Jag was there.<\/p>\n Intent upon his chore that early morning, Joe took the back steps two at a time up to the third floor. A quick peek through the emergency exit door showed him that Rosalie wasn’t in situ at the entrance to Adam’s office. Smoothly, as if he’d done it every day of his adult life, he opened the door and sauntered down to the doorway just beyond and opposite Adam’s. He nudged it and was pleased that it wasn’t locked because, even though it was nominally his office, he didn’t know if he had a key to unlock it. He fumbled for the light switch.<\/p>\n “Green,” he mumbled when the lights came on. “Thought the carpet was gray in here.” Unlike Adam’s semi-modernistic furnishings, Joe’s were old fashioned. Early-American Thrift Store he’d jokingly called it. His desk was actually one of the antique tables that had once graced the State Library reading room. The rolling chair with its wooden seat and slat back was equally aged with scuff marks on the claw-legs and feet, courtesy of many booted feet resting there over many years. While Adam’s office looked to the west and the dry-slopes of the Sierra Nevadas, Joe’s floor-to-ceiling windows looked east at the naked, purple up-thrusts of the East Walker and Wassuk Mountain Ranges. That morning, the bright summer sun was banishing the haze that often coated the mountains, bringing them into stark contrast with the green-gold of the irrigated valley fields. Ignoring all else, Joe went to the windows and stood there. He breathed deeply of the cool air, catching the slight staleness on his tongue. His fingertips barely pressed against the window, leaving their own tracks as his hands slid down then parted from the glass to hang at his sides. He closed his eyes, trying to summon up what that same scene would look like in winter- a season that generally made him happy. Snow-covered, the East Walker Range was a startling contrast to the Sierra Nevadas he knew. He’d gone skiing there a number of times but they were angry and forbidding mountains. One slip, Hoss had teased him, and he would have a long walk home because no one else in their right minds would be anywhere close by, trying to ski those slopes.<\/p>\n “Hoss,” Joe whispered. It was as if his head was suddenly too heavy to hold up and he let it rest against the window. “I’m sorry, brother. I really am. I wanna come see you but I can’t. Not yet. I gotta find out who did this to you and when I do, they’ll pay for it. Believe me. They’ll pay for it.”<\/p>\n For not the first time in the last two days, the thought slammed into his heart that it was him – that he was responsible somehow. But what if it’s me that’s responsible? That something I did, something I should have seen, was wrong. God knows, we didn’t cut a single corner. If nothing else, we overbuilt it. But what if I missed something? And if that something made the building fall. . . and Hoss dies because of. . .I’ll never be able to look Pa in the face again. How could I, knowing I killed my own brother?<\/p>\n He hadn’t heard her come in. The first that he knew he wasn’t alone in that office was her hand coming to rest lightly on his back. He jerked his head away from the window, then, a quick dash of his hand wiped away the unmanly tears before he caught her scent.<\/p>\n “What are you doing here this early, Jenny?” he mumbled, relieved that it was her and not one of the other secretaries.<\/p>\n “I could ask the same thing of you but then we both know just how hard it is to give up on old habits. My alarm clock went off at the usual time and I just got up, got myself dressed for work but then realized I didn’t have an office to go to other than this one here.”<\/p>\n Joe tried for a laugh but it died aborning. “But this is my office, Jenny. So you came to my office, not yours.”<\/p>\n The old woman patted his back once then stepped to his side. The window reflected them yet they studied only the far landscape, ignoring the tears both were silently shedding. She also tried laughing briefly. “I hadn’t thought of that. I don’t have an office here, do I? Well then, my office is wherever yours is, Joe. Seems to me that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I called the hospital on my way into town. No change, they said. You heard anything?”<\/p>\n He shook his head in reply then again pressed his fingers to the glass. “Just what Doctor Conover told me. Doesn’t look good, apparently. Won’t be long before they begin to press Pa about turning off the machines. Hoss was -is- an organ donor so they might want to do it sooner rather than later to protect them.” “No. Not really. If I’m to blame for destroying Adam’s dream building. . for my brother’s death. . . for Grissom’s lawsuit taking the Ponderosa…Jenny, I have to know why. I have to know how it happened.” His hand against the window had become a fist.<\/p>\n She drew herself up to her full height then covered his fist with her own gnarled fingers. “Then let’s find out what happened.”<\/p>\n “How?” he asked, looking at her for the first time.<\/p>\n “I got no idea, Joseph, but between the two of us, we should be able to figure it out, shouldn’t we?”<\/p>\n “The State boys’re saying it was poor workmanship and\/or poor materials.”<\/p>\n Jenny made a rude noise Joe could have sworn she would never have made in public. “Between the lot of them, they haven’t got the sense God gave a real working man. ‘Bout like some engineers I know.” She winked at the reference to Adam. “As well as a few sheriffs, too.”<\/p>\n “Please, Jenny. I am in enough trouble with Roy Coffee.”<\/p>\n Two hours later as she dropped her things onto her desk and prepared to start her day, Rosalie heard voices. When she went to Joe’s partially opened office door, she could see what looked like chaos. She pushed the door open a little more. Around the entire space lay print-outs of pictures. There was barely walking room between the seemingly random scatterings. Jenny sat at the desk typing on a laptop computer with the printer behind her humming as it spit out more pages. Joe, on the opposite side of the room, lay sprawled half-on and half-off some of the grainy black and whites.<\/p>\n “Glad you’re here. This printer is about out of paper. Go get us some more,” the older woman demanded, her tone brisk and authoritative.<\/p>\n It made Rosalie bristle. “Do I get to ask what’s going on?”<\/p>\n Joe glanced at her, seeing the equivalent of a cat fight coming on for it was well known that the two women didn’t get along well. “Rosalie, please? Can you scrounge us up some more of this heavy paper stock?” Part of the way down the hall, she heard him ask for coffee. Jenny seconded the request and added cream and sugar.<\/p>\n With another ream of paper, a pot of black coffee, and another hour gone, Rosalie, Jenny and Joe found themselves no closer to their answer of what caused the death of the building.<\/p>\n “Take a break,” Joe instructed and flopped back onto the floor, arms wide across the ransom piles of pictures. “Oh, did I ask you yesterday, Rosalie, about getting together the list of subcontractors for the lawyer? He asked for them and I can’t remember if I asked you about it.”<\/p>\n “You did and I did. Jenny, if you are hooked into the company server, go over to the projects drive. You’ll find it under Hotel, Subs.”<\/p>\n A few moments later and a paper airplane made from the printed list landed next to Joe. He picked it up and unfolded it. He scanned it briefly before he asked if it had been sent to Mears.<\/p>\n “I emailed it to his office, yes. Why? Did I miss something? I got the list from Accounting. They should know since they’re the ones who handle payouts and all.” She couldn’t help her defensive attitude with her arch enemy not two feet away. Jenny had been known to chew up other administrative assistants for lesser mistakes.<\/p>\n “No, but who – or what- is F. McClellan?” Joe wrinkled his nose as he asked. Something about the name seemed familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on it.<\/p>\n “That’s the photographer your father hired to take pictures of the hotel for the magazine Architecture Today. You know. For that contest.”<\/p>\n “Never saw him out at the site,” Jenny hissed. “Never saw a bill from him neither so I don’t think we could say he was a subcontractor.”<\/p>\n Joe was smiling as memories kicked in. “Not him, Jenny. Her. Faye McClellan is her name.”<\/p>\n “Faye McClellan?” Rosalie all but sneered as she repeated the name. “I remember her from school. She was always taking pictures of people. Whether you wanted her to or not. She was the lead photographer for the year book.”<\/p>\n “So she’s the one that caught the shot of you with a big ol’ pacifier in your mouth. Okay, so you were cast as the baby in the senior play.” He couldn’t help himself. Joe laughed lustily and that simply made Rosalie blush a deeper red. “Word has it that you tried to bribe her. She told the story that she took your money but then went ahead and put the picture in the year book just to spite you. Then, Jenny, it went around school that she was gonna to beat the stuffin’s out of Faye. Never heard anything more about it all. Did you catch her? Beat her up?”<\/p>\n “Faye went and hid behind ?behind a friend,” was Rosalie’s distracted reply. “She was scheduled to be out there at the hotel on Monday, the day this all started.”<\/p>\n “Get her on the phone, Rose, please. Maybe her photos can help us.”<\/p>\n Rosalie came back a few minutes later. “She said she’s working on them right now in the dark room. Seems she doesn’t do digitals. Said you can wait until tomorrow morning and she’ll deliver them along with her bill or you can come down to her studio right now.”<\/p>\n Joe was on his feet and moving before Rosalie was finished. “You two stay here. Keep printing those pictures. Jenny knows enough about the building that she can tell you where they go. Just pretend that you’re building it, but this time out of paper, Rosalie. While I’m gone, get a hold of Roy Coffee. See if they’ve found the plans yet. He promised me a copy and we’re gonna need ’em.” At the door, he paused and twisted to eyeball both of them. “Just get along with each other for a little while. Please?”<\/p>\n He was waiting for the elevator when he heard Jenny’s “you heard him! Get on the phone, girl, or have you forgotten how to dial?” A deep sigh escaped him as he stepped through the sliding door. Maybe, just maybe, the cat-fight’ll be all over by the time I get back . Sweet my good Lord, I hope so. Never been able to handle two women fighting. From the back came a voice. “Gimme a minute!” That was followed by the clang of metal on metal and an increase in the chemical smell. A door somewhere opened and closed. Joe was bent over a glass merchandise case, trying to figure out why a person would need so many different camera lenses when that same voice said “Well? What can I do for you?”<\/p>\n Joe straightened up and looked into blue eyes with a wisp of blonde hair hanging in front of them. “Hi! Faye?”<\/p>\n She chuckled deep in her throat then stuck out her hand. “Joe Cartwright. You forgot me just that quick? Shame on you! But I didn’t forget you. Can’t seem to get through a day without hearing the Cartwright name. What with your father running all but un-opposed for the U.S. Senate and all.”<\/p>\n The quirky smile on her face made Joe uneasy.”Pa’s got some competition,” he corrected.<\/p>\n “Not up here, he hasn’t. Down in Las Vegas, sure but half them folks down there can’t vote in Nevada. No, your Pa’s got a lock on the seat. But you ain’t here to discuss politics.” She glanced down before she sobered and went on. “Your photos aren’t quite ready yet. Most of ’em are still drying.”<\/p>\n “Can I look at ’em anyway?”<\/p>\n “You mean go into my dark room?” She theatrically gasped and fisted up her shirt’s collar. “First you want into my-”<\/p>\n “Faye! Please! That was years ago. Besides, as I recall it was you wanting to-”<\/p>\n “All right. Just call it a momentarily lack of judgment on my part. After all, you weren’t even out of high school, were you? I barely was and you were a couple of years behind me in school.” Even as she spoke, she turned back the way she had come and gestured for him to follow.<\/p>\n Through a solid wood door, a heavy curtain that split in the center, and finally a second, lighter-weight curtain, they went. It was like walking into an underground cave and it made Joe’s heart rate increase by half again. He’d always been afraid of going underground and this was just like it. Or it was until Faye hit a switch and a deep red light glowed overhead. On two sides of the single room there was a waist-high counter. Another side of the room held an ordinary looking refrigerator, microwave and a tattered recliner. The last side of the room drew Joe’s attention for it was covered with eight-by-ten photos, pinned by their upper-most corners to lines strung across the wall. If there was one photo, there was a hundred. He whistled softly as he approached them.<\/p>\n “Don’t touch them yet. Like I said, they aren’t dry,” Faye cautioned. She could have saved her breath for Joe was so in awe of what he saw, he could move nothing but his eyes. She stood aside, watching him, waiting for his attention to come back. It took a while.<\/p>\n He gestured to one, his body language asking her about it.<\/p>\n “Took that about a third of the way down the slope from the swimming pool. Hell of a shot, isn’t it?” Indeed it was. Somehow she had gotten just the top half of the sparkling windows as they reflected Lake Tahoe’s bright blue-green coloring. Off to one side of the picture, a small fluffy white cloud seemed to be edging for the building’s apex while on the other side, in fuzzy contrast, a few pine needles reached for the center. That single picture seemed to say it all: the hotel, while settled on the earth with its toes in Lake Tahoe, was able to reach for- and capture- the sky.<\/p>\n Together, they went over some of the other pictures hanging there that showed the building from different angles. She explained some of her process as they did. An angle here, the use of the trees as a backdrop there. Even one that defied its existence to Joe for it appeared that she had to have been on the steep-pitched roof to get the picture. She smiled as she gave him a brief lesson in wide-angle photography and how she’d actually been on the slope behind the hotel.<\/p>\n “But these over here are what you’re looking for, I’m afraid.” She gestured to one portion of the wall. “Let me say right off how sorry I am. ‘Bout the hotel, but especially about Hoss. I knew him from school.”<\/p>\n Joe straightened his back, his shoulders suddenly hurting from the load of guilt and remorse he carried. He would try for confidence. “Hoss is gonna be okay. I just know he is, but thanks. About the hotel, I mean.” The look on her face told him he’d failed to convince her. “But about these pictures?”<\/p>\n “Oh, yeah. I was headed up the slope, almost to the swimming pool fenced area. Thought I’d take a few more shots so I had my camera up and focused. Then – oh lordy, Joe,” she started but couldn’t quit finish without her face screwing itself up and her voice beginning to shake. “It was like my finger couldn’t keep from hitting the shutter button. I don’t remember taking ninety percent of those pictures, I swear. As many as there are, I know I must have changed film at least four or five times. Look. Here- see there? That’s the first rescue truck on the scene and that was at least a few minutes from the time of the building collapsing.”<\/p>\n Joe felt as though he’d been hit by a runaway truck. His eyes tracked across then down, taking in a part of each and relating it to the whole. His back had been to it so he hadn’t seen what was happening but the photographs showed in stark naked clarity. There, before his eyes, hung the evidence that they had been looking at what happened in the wrong light.<\/p>\n From the front corner of the A-frame right behind where they’d been walking, working backwards and across the top – the pictures gave evidence of a mind-searing, heart-rending truth.<\/p>\n The building had not exploded as they had all been saying, alluding to without actually saying the words.<\/p>\n No.<\/p>\n Oh God! I did it. I was right. Something there, something I did, something I let happen, Joe’s soul wailed in anguish. He tried closing his eyes to shut out what he now saw, but the images were burned into his brain.<\/p>\n The building had collapsed.<\/p>\n The two women looked up as Joe entered the office. Rosalie paused long enough to push a strand of dark hair behind her ear, smile briefly, then the two resumed their picture sorting.<\/p>\n “Leave!” he ordered sharply, letting the door behind him remain open as he strode angrily across the room.<\/p>\n They looked up again, this time surprised. The harshness of the single strident word was uncharacteristic and it took them both a moment to understand what he was demanding.<\/p>\n With one arm, he swept the piles from the desk top. They fluttered like suddenly released birds, flying up into Jenny’s face and swirling around Rosalie’s body. Finally the pages found the floor and died there. “Leave! Now!” Joe roared, his face reddening from the strain of it. “Didn’t you hear me? I said for you to leave!” Like a caged wild animal, Joe paced behind her. His boots ripped and tore at the papers that now completely covered the carpet, making the silence between them even louder.<\/p>\n Jenny drew herself up to her full height and turned to face him, every movement studied and sure. She pulled his cell phone out of his pocket as he passed her and flipped it open. He would’ve grabbed for it, but her eyes warned him off.<\/p>\n “What are you doing? Give me that! And get out of here, Jenny!”<\/p>\n For a few wild breaths, she defied him, giving him neither her attention nor her compliance. Instead, her nimble fingers danced over the small phones keys until she had what she wanted.”Ah hah!” she said so softly it was nearly a whisper. “Just wanted to make sure you had my home number programmed into your phone.” She picked up her handbag from the counter behind the desk and smoothed her hair back. “That way when you want to call me to apologize for your outburst and poor behavior, you won’t have the excuse that you didn’t have my number.” For a few heartbeats she waited, expecting a reply from Joe. When it didn’t come, she started for the open door. Odd, she thought, the farther away from him I get, the more I can feel his anger. One last shot. “You want the door closed, I assume?” She half-turned to him. “So you can continue your rant in private. Or do you need a witness?”<\/p>\n “GET OUT!” he screamed but for all the impact it had on the older woman, he may as well have whispered the words. It was, however, as if the explosion of sound had released something within him and Joe Cartwright suddenly sank into the chair, his hands fumbling for the arms, his feet slipping from under him.<\/p>\n Jenny closed her eyes and took a deep breath to settle her own nerves. Once done, she pushed the door closed with her foot and leaned against it, her hands gripping the door knob, her purse falling forgotten to the floor. The door was all that held her up, but its solidness gave her needed strength.<\/p>\n “You want to tell me about it?” she asked. By now, Joe had buried his head in his arms on the desk so she couldn’t see his face. She didn’t need to. Something had happened over at the photographer’s studio, something that had gutted him, left him hollow. She had a keen idea what it would have been but if she gave voice to it now, he never would. And if he never spoke of it, it would haunt him forever. No, best to let him tell her.<\/p>\n It took a while but Joe finally lifted his face only to cover it with his hands. “The pictures there…the ones Faye took…while the building was….” His pause drew time out, deepened the silence in the office. To admit to it was to make it real – more real than the pictures had shown. “The building collapsed, Jenny. She has the evidence right there. Caught on film. About a hundred frames worth. Do you understand what that means?”<\/p>\n She levered herself away from the door and while his tightened body language warned of another pending explosion, she approached him anyway. Gently she pulled at his hands, trying to look into his eyes. He would have none of it. Instead he launched himself from the chair and to the windowed wall, his back to her once more. Jenny lowered herself onto the desk top.<\/p>\n “Of course I know what that means. It means that-” she began but didn’t get the opportunity to finish before he whirled on her.<\/p>\n “It means I killed my own brother. It means that I have opened to door for Grissom to take everything my father and brothers have worked their whole lives for. It means that I -”<\/p>\n As fast as his words tumbled out, Jenny understood just what was really going on. He was taking the blame, the full blame for what had happened. It would, she knew, ultimately tear him apart unless she stopped him.<\/p>\n “No,” she murmured so low that he had to stop his own mad rush of culpability and listen closely to her. Even as her own heart felt squeezed into nothingness, she could feel his loosening. She went on. “It means that you found where it all started from. You didn’t find the cause, Joe. You just found the result, the starting point. And that’s what we’ve been needing.”<\/p>\n “But, Jenny!” His words were hurled at her, like a wild animal, they were ready to pounce on her. Yet she showed no fear, only calmness.<\/p>\n To answer him, she raised a knobby index finger and pointed it at him as she stood up. “No buts about it, Joe. This is what we’ve been missing. We know now where the problem was, where it started. All we have to do now is find out why. Why did it fail there? Why?”<\/p>\n “I know why, Jenny.” Only then did their eyes meet. “Because I made -”<\/p>\n It was her turn to fly into a rage then and she did. In grand, glorious and melodramatic style. “Yes! You! You, Joseph Francis Cartwright! All on your own! With no help from another living soul! You did it! You built that hotel. All by yourself! Every foundation block laid by your own hand. Every stud in every wall. Every run of wire. Every square inch of carpeting put down. You did it all, didn’t you? All by yourself!” Her finger bounced on his chest, hitting harder and harder with each word.<\/p>\n “That’s not what I meant!” He grasped her hand as he sought the right words he needed to defend himself.<\/p>\n “But it’s what you’ve said, Joe.” Her voice softened as she let her hand relax in his. “You were just part of the whole. Same as I was. We -you and I – we weren’t the cause of it all but we can find out what was. All we have to do is look.”<\/p>\n He grimaced at her sudden logic. “We can’t look, Jenny. They have it all cordoned off, remember? And have you found anything in these pictures? No.”<\/p>\n She struggled with her smile but finally got it. “Now that we know where to look, maybe we can find something in these pictures. Seem like an idea to you?” Her head cocked a little to one side, almost daring him to deny her.<\/p>\n It started when he shook his head once, trying to look away from her earnest expression. One pent up breath let go was followed by another. Then another. He gathered the old woman into his arms and hugged her to him. She felt his body quiver. There isn’t time to waste, she thought, so she backed away from him just as a single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.<\/p>\n She braced him firmly, ignoring the tear. “But before we do, you need to do something.” When he only raised a brow in reply, she screwed her face up and went on. “You need to stop thinking of Hoss as dead. He isn’t. Not now, not yet and not for a long time to come.”<\/p>\n “But-”<\/p>\n “Ain’t no buts about it. You do that? For me?” If not for your father, your brother, for yourself?<\/p>\n “All right. For you, Jenny, anything.” He paused and pursed his lips in a moment of thought. “I suppose you also want me to go apologize to Rosalie for throwing her out of here. Right?”<\/p>\n Jenny was bending to pick up some of the now torn photos. There came a sly smile to her creased features that seemed to land square in her gray eyes. “This is your office – our office- so you can throw whomever you want out of it. Though it makes you look weak, apologizing to the hired help, you know.”<\/p>\n “And you’re not?” he teased, referring to her as ‘hired help’ without saying it.<\/p>\n “Me? Weak? You never saw that out of me! Now did you?” she challenged back, pleased that her young boss had lost the anger and the self-recrimination. If only for a moment, it was as if none of it had ever happened. But then she placed her handful of black and white photos on the scarred desktop. It had happened – all of it- but she would be good and god-damned if she would let it take over her life. Or the Cartwrights’.<\/p>\n By noon they had the photos sorted once again. This time, however, they had simply laid aside those that had nothing to do with that fatal front corner of the structure. It helped them, as Jenny had predicted, focus their attention into a tighter line. Across the counter that ran along one wall, in rows on the scarred desk top, in a line that stretched from one side of the office to the windows, the photos followed one after another in sequence. From the foundation blocks up to the topmost pitch of the A-frame glass.<\/p>\n “I keep looking at these, and I swear, I know the answer is here but I just can’t see it.” Joe sagged back into his chair, closing his eyes to unsuccessfully shut out the images the photos brought. They flipped through his tired mind kaleidoscope fashion at a dizzying rate.<\/p>\n Jenny shifted through the computer-printouts in her hands once more before she laid them down and looked across at him. Like him, her features were stamped with frustration. Seeking a distraction from the growing sense of failure, she began to study the men in the black-and-white photo on the top of her pile. That man, that’s Harvey Teasdale. Carpenter. Bill Lincoln. He’s a plumber. Carter-oh, I can never remember his last name but he’s one of the Paiute carpenter boys. But what is -? She dipped her head and lifted the photo to the sunlight the window let it.<\/p>\n “Joe?” she called slowly, softly. “We had a contract with Truckee Electric, right? They were the electricians for the whole thing. Right?”<\/p>\n With his head thrown back and rubbing on the back of the wooden chair, Joe just muttered that she was right. He didn’t bother to open his eyes when he heard her tromp across the floor, scattering photos once more. She thrust the one she’d been studying into his hands, gaining his full attention once more when she asked –<\/p>\n “Then what is a truck from Lendal’s doing there? They are the lousiest outfit we ever had on a project and I thought for sure that Adam said we wouldn’t let them bid with us again.”<\/p>\n Joe took the paper from her hand and did as she had – tilt it to the stronger light. She was right. There, half -hidden behind a palette of concrete blocks, was a pick-up truck. All he could see was the front fender back to the side mirror but it was enough to identify it as one of Lendal’s. They used a lightning bolt as part of their logo that ran down the whole side of their vehicles.<\/p>\n “Get me Sam Turner on the phone, please.” Sam Turner was the main foreman for Truckee Electric. “Let’s make sure he didn’t subcontract some part of the work to Lendal.” But even as Jenny was dialing, both knew the truth. Sam had about as much use for Lendal as most of the other first rate electricians in the area – namely none.<\/p>\n “Sam, Joe Cartwright. Yeah, thanks. No, I haven’t been over to the hospital today. But something came up in the investigation…”<\/p>\n Jenny didn’t need to hear both sides of the conversation. By the time it was half over, she was busy pulling up files on the computer screen. Joe was hanging up the phone when she found what she was after.<\/p>\n “Look here,” she encouraged, pointing to the digital date on the photo. “That’s a Tuesday morning. And what do we do every Tuesday just before lunch?”<\/p>\n “Safety meeting.”<\/p>\n “And every man there has to attend.”<\/p>\n “And sign the attendance sheet before we give them their free lunch.”<\/p>\n She rotated the monitor so he could see what she had pulled up. “And this is the sign-in sheet for that Tuesday. I scan them in so we can send them to Adam with the daily reports and pictures. See the numbers down the side? That day, according to this, we had 47 men on the project. According to this-” She maximized another computer document, this time a daily report. “-this shows we had 46. Where did the extra man come from at the Safety Meeting? That’s a little far to come for a free slice of pizza.”<\/p>\n For a few moments, Joe studied both documents and the photo, flipping from one to the other. His brow furrowed deeply. He read a few lines on the daily report. “No,” he said, the word oozing out of him. “The question to ask is why did we have an electrician on site the day we were getting ready to pour the foundation? Building code requires that the underground conduit be encased in its own duct bank – its own concrete. And it had been done already – a week before as I recall.”<\/p>\n “In fact, I recall Sam standing in your office, Joe, with him telling you that when you were ready for them to come back, to give him a call. And I remember the date of that conversation very well! It was my birthday and you guys were dragging you feet about leaving and I was gonna be late for my dinner.”<\/p>\n “Get all of this together and get it up to John Mears, Jenny. Tell him what it all means.” It was hard to miss the excitement in his voice. “I’m not sure of what it means but I have the gut-feeling that it’s something important.”<\/p>\n “And just where are you headed?” she queried, seeing him head for the door in a rush. When he replied that he was heading for the hospital, she felt a little relieved. He needed to spend time with his family, with Hoss; she said so.<\/p>\n “Wrong brother. Gotta talk to Adam. Catch up with you later.” And he was out the door.<\/p>\n She was shaking her head and chewing her lower lip when he stuck his head back in. “And then I’ll buy you that birthday dinner you missed.”<\/p>\n Adam Cartwright took another sniff of the air. Was it because of the concussion that he thought he smelled it? No, it couldn’t be! Did a concussion mess with your sense of smell, making you hallucinate? Making you think you could smell roast pork in an otherwise sterile atmosphere? He sniffed once more as he sat down beside Hoss’ bed. No, there was definitely the smell of roast pork. He glanced around the room, expecting to see the remains of perhaps a meal that his father’d had. There was nothing – not even in the trash can. He knew, even though he had felt silly checking it out.<\/p>\n “You aren’t catching cold are you?” Alex Conover asked as she came into the room to find him sniffing once again then rubbing his nose.<\/p>\n He looked a little sheepish then smiled for her. “No. Just thought I smelled something out of place is all.” “He did. I’ve just been making calls, trying to find a ride home. I have talked to every member of the family’s voice mail at least once – Brother Joseph’s three or four times. Thought the reason I wasn’t getting through to my father was that he was down here so I came here.” Left unsaid was the fact that he also wanted to sit with Hoss for a while before being shuffled off to the Ponderosa. And considering that Joe seemed to have taken over his vehicle, Adam would have felt more than a little trapped. Forget about the fact that he had promised Paul that he wouldn’t get behind the wheel to drive for another few days.<\/p>\n “What if I take you home?” offered Alex, now the girl friend solicitous of his well-being.<\/p>\n “I’m not sure your VW bug could make it up Mount Rose Highway,” Adam teased her. As he did, he patted the bed, his hand brushing his brother’s. An alarm went off, shrill and piercing. Instinctively, he backed away. The same instinct drove Doctor Alex Conover forward. Without looking back, she began issuing orders as the hospital’s monotone alert system called out Hoss’ room number with the words “Code Blue” behind it.<\/p>\n For several agonizing minutes, Adam stood as mute and motionless as a marble statue. Around his brother’s bed, voices were raised, shoulders and bodies collided in apparent pandemonium yet even as he watched, he could see each person performed as if in a ballet. In the center of all that activity was Hoss – oblivious to the drama unfolding around him. Adam wondered if Hoss really didn’t feel anything, didn’t hear the commands, didn’t understand that it was his life they were suddenly fighting for. Then, just as quickly as it had started, everyone in the room was still. Like the nurses and others, Adam’s eyes were glued to the heart monitor and the horizontal line that ran straight and true across it.<\/p>\n “Oh, God, no,” someone pleaded. Another voice echoed the words. Adam felt as if his chest was going to explode. He opened his mouth to shout his brother’s name but nothing came out. Instead, a strangled sob caught in his throat. The room was so silent that Alex heard it and looked to him.<\/p>\n She missed when the green line jumped once, barely. The relief she saw in his eyes refocused her attention so she saw when the big man’s heart resumed its sluggish beat. As the physician who had originally called the code, it was her duty to tell the recording nurse that normal rhythm had returned and that the code was cancelled. She did so.<\/p>\n When they were once more together in the room, she took Adam’s arm and pushed him to the chair by the window. He gave her no resistance, still trapped in the shock of what had transpired. She told him that it was going to be okay even if she thought she was lying. Dull-eyed, he looked into her face and asked her how she could be so sure. “How do I do that, Alex? How do I fight for him now?” His words were so soft, she barely heard them; the anguish within them so loud she felt pummeled by it.<\/p>\n “When you two were younger, in school, did Hoss ever get into trouble?”<\/p>\n Adam snorted once. “Hoss? In trouble? Never.” He looked towards Hoss where another pair of doctors were hovering. “Except once.” A faint smile showed the memory the way out. “The high school cafeteria changed their menu. Instead of tuna fish sandwiches with their tomato soup, they were going to start serving grilled cheese. There was a minor protest – maybe ten kids- that had a sit-down outside of the main cafeteria door. Right in the middle of them was Brother Hoss.”<\/p>\n “He loved tuna fish that much? Gosh, I always hated it the way they made it in school.” To prove her point, Alex stuck her tongue out and mocked a retching noise with her finger pretending to go down her throat.<\/p>\n “No. Hoss hates cheese that much.” Together they chuckled.”I was home from college for Spring break and had to go drag him out before Pa caught wind of it. Pa would’ve tanned his hide if he’d found out.”<\/p>\n “So your father never found out about it?”<\/p>\n “No.” Adam made the single syllable into about five. “He found out about it. The news cameras caught us leaving the school. Part of the problem with driving a car like the Jag. Everyone knows it and there is no claiming that it was someone else who just happened to be driving a car that looks like it. Or be the size Hoss was – is- even then. We were both surprised when Pa didn’t ground us both. He did give us a lecture about civil disobedience and how to go about it the right way.”<\/p>\n “Tell me more about him. About Hoss, ” she urged as she sensed the relief telling the story brought to him. “What was it like growing up in the wilds of Nevada with a brother like Hoss?”<\/p>\n Once again, a little serving of a chuckle broke through with a smile. “Never a dull moment, that’s for sure. With Joe, you could bet your socks that it was going to be hair-raising. Where do you think Pa got his white hair from? But with Hoss? He was usually a little more sneaky about things. He tried making his own moonshine once – and it hasn’t been that many years ago either…”<\/p>\n For the best part of the next hour, Adam talked of the adventures of having a brother named Hoss had brought over the years. Right down to the combination fiasco of last winter when he and Joe had decided to teach their “innocent” brother about the dangers of computer dating. When did the other doctors leave? Adam wasn’t sure. When had he and Alex moved over to sit beside the bed? He didn’t know. When had he reached up and grabbed his brother’s hand, holding it fiercely? When the thought had come to him that he might lose this brother. That was when. <\/p>\n “He’s had another. . .episode, I guess you could call it. Quick reaction got him back and he seems to be back to where he was.” Paul Martin’s palms were sweaty – a sure sign to himself that he was aboutt to do something he hated. He swallowed hard, dried a hand on his white coat, and cupped Ben Cartwright’s elbow to guide him into the hospital’s small chapel.”We need to talk, Ben.”<\/p>\n Inside the room it was all shadows and muted lights. Any sound from the busy corridor died as the doors closed, engulfing them in the faint scent of wood, and nothing more. As they had come here, Ben’s own heart suffered an episode – as Paul would describe it- an episode of remembering. A little more than twenty years ago, Paul had done just the same thing he had done this morning – met Ben coming down the hall and aimed him into this chapel. As it had then, Ben’s heart did now: stuttered in its steady beat, bracing itself for bad news. Then it had been his wife, Marie. Now it would be Hoss.<\/p>\n “It’s been two full days.”<\/p>\n Is it Wednesday? Doesn’t feel like a Wednesday. More like a ?doesn’t matter. Just seems longer.<\/p>\n “If we are going to do what Hoss would want us to do, we need to be doing it soon.”<\/p>\n But how do we know what he would want? Wouldn’t any sane person want to live? But is it truly?living?<\/p>\n “As Hoss is an adult, the law doesn’t say that we have to have your parental consent.”<\/p>\n Of course. He’s a man and can make his own decisions. So why lay all of this on me just because I am his father?<\/p>\n “…so you need to talk to Adam and Joe. Most family members find some degree of closure if they are there when the loved one -”<\/p>\n “Dies.” The single word fell woodenly from Ben’s mouth. Looking straight ahead, he saw nothing of the chapel. He’d taken himself back in time to when Inger had first placed their son in his arms. Her gently accented words had told him that it was a boy – Eric, they would name him, but as her brother had asked, call him Hoss – a big friendly man. He’d grown into his nickname. Teachers in school had first tried to conform everyone and call him by his proper name but it just hadn’t worked. He was Hoss – through and through.<\/p>\n “…but we need to be doing it soon, Ben.” “If you want, my staff can make calls if you think you would want ?maybe Rosalie?- here? Set a time?”<\/p>\n “No,” Ben barked. “Give me some time to think, Paul, about what I want – what Hoss would want.” He patted the anxious hand gripping his arm. “I promise. I’ll let you know one way or the other by this afternoon. Now, if you don’t mind?”<\/p>\n Paul Martin nodded and stood up from the hard bench. It had gone better than he’d expected but then he knew Ben Cartwright as a man of compassion and understanding. That didn’t make it any easier since Hoss was also….Paul pushed the door open and went into the hallway blindly. He pretended to study the chart in his hands as he went to his office, praying no one saw how cloudy his eyes had become with unshed tears.<\/p>\n Having never married, Paul’d had no children of his own. Instead, he had taken keen interest in all of his young patients, following them up through the years. Hoss had been one of those patients even if the physician had rarely seen him professionally. Oh, the yearly physical for high school football was a given. The occasional head cold that went on longer than normal. The allergy to bee stings that had lessened over the years. These were the things Doctor Paul Martin had seen him for. The man in Paul Martin had seen Hoss out on the high school football field; he’d watched him as he’d mentored young boys in 4H with their cows, judging in the county fair every year. There had been only once that Paul had seen the big man as a doctor that he was sure his father wasn’t aware of. A young woman of questionable character had listed Hoss as a “person of contact” to the Health Department. Hoss had come to him, the letter shaking in his big hands, saying over and over again that he’d had nothing to do with her except take her home one night. Paul had done as the law required: examination and testing – knowing there was no need – and the letter to the Health Department with his signature on it, attesting to the soundness of the man. He thought that Hoss would have been the Cartwright son to marry first and give Ben grandchildren. Maybe he would have since, like the rest of the community, Paul had watched the growing -and glowing-attachment between Rosalie and Hoss.<\/p>\n “No, not now,” he said to the four book-shelved walls. Yet, even as he said those three words, his eyes sought out one of those books. The one on the far right, bottom shelf, with gold embossed letters on the spine. He didn’t have to open it, to read it, so instead he closed his eyes, bringing those thin pages into the forefront of his mind. “One more miracle, please, Lord? Just one more?”<\/p>\n Then he sat down and cried, afraid of the answer.<\/p>\n “Yah, I know. Couldn’t find him at the hospital so I figured that’s what happened. So where did he say he was going?” Joe had to shout into the cell phone so Rosalie could hear him above the whine of the car engine and the wind whipping by at seventy miles an hour. Pursing her lips into a full-fledged pout, Rosalie was glad she was the only one on the third floor. It made it quiet enough to think, and since being tossed out of Joe’s office earlier, that’s what she’d done – think. On her computer monitor, she’d pulled up the digital photos of the hotel. “If Jenny could do it, so can I” was her muttered excuse as she’d studied them carefully. Soon, though, she became lost, not understanding half of what she was seeing and not able to give names to the other half.<\/p>\n “Ahem!”<\/p>\n The throat clearing got her attention. Instantly she became the executive assistant, poised and in control.<\/p>\n Then lost most of that control.<\/p>\n “Hello, Rosalie,” Faye McClellan smirked.<\/p>\n “And what can I do for you, Miss McClellan? It is still ‘miss’, isn’t it? Never found anyone to take you out more than once?” Rosalie became the epitome of a feisty cat – all claws and hissing.<\/p>\n To her surprise, the photographer chuckled as she handed over a thick manila envelope. “Same as you, Rosalie. Same as you. Looks like you’ve done okay.” She glanced around the hallway, not really noting anything there but the woman behind the desk. “In spite of yourself.”<\/p>\n “Is this all?” The secretary rose to balance on the balls of her feet, ready to do battle. Oddly, it brought the two of them eye to eye in more ways than just the physical one. To show her ownership of the situation, Rosalie bunched her fingers into fists and planted them stiff armed on the desk.<\/p>\n Again, Faye chuckled. “No. There’s other pictures back at my studio but these were the ones Joe was most interested in. I didn’t know where else to bring ’em. Maybe you know since you seem to be a first rank lackey. But that always did suit you.”<\/p>\n The “thank you” she got was icy cold.<\/p>\n “You know, even now, all these years later, you’re still mad. Grow up, Rosalie. Life is too damn short to carry needless grudges. After all, you got what you wanted in the long run, didn’t you? Word on the street has you marrying a Cartwright.” She regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. “Okay, I’m sorry I said it that way. I know Hoss is in bad shape-”<\/p>\n “Very bad shape,” the other woman said, her voice trembling over the three words. Then steel rose into her backbone and she glared hotly at the photographer. “You know, if Hoss hadn’t stopped me years ago, I’d have beat the livin’ daylight out of you-”<\/p>\n Again, Faye laughed; this time it was derisive and bitter.”Yah, I know. You were one tough little cookie back then but you aren’t now, girlie. Oh, no, you best stay behind that desk or you’ll break a nail. Can’t have that happen, now can we? See you ’round.”<\/p>\n Without a flicker of an eyelid, she was gone and Rosalie was left defending herself against the memory of a hatred born in an old school-yard. She dropped back into her chair and pulled closer the envelope Faye had left. It opened easily and out spilled two rubber-banded packets of photos. The one on top showed a cloud of debris and dust rising into the pine tree tops. That was all. She removed the rubber band and flipped through that set rapidly as she’d heard cartoon animators do.<\/p>\n “It’s real,” she breathed. “The hotel is gone.” She reorganized the pictures, placing the topmost one last and re-ran her private showing. Again and again, she saw the elegant building droop to one side then seem to gather momentum as it fell like a wounded animal until nothing was left except dust.<\/p>\n The other packet of photos had also been taken at the time of the hotel’s demise. These, however, painted a different picture. They were of men doing what needed to be done. Some were caught in mid-stride, running from the billowing dust. Others were shown helping their co-workers escape. Still other photos showed men standing open-mouthed, shocked into paralysis by what they alone could see. These were the ones that put a human element into it all, over-riding the loss and putting it into perspective as nothing else ever would. Like she hadn’t done with those showing the death of the building, Rosalie did with these: studied each one slowly and intently.<\/p>\n One she was tempted to hold out from the rest. At first glance it stood out because while the other photos were color ones, this one appeared to be a black-and-white. The background showed virtually no color except the gray-white cloud of dust. In the foreground, Joe Cartwright was bending down to Adam’s prone body. She knew it was Adam by his dark clothing. The only color in the entire photo was a smear of red – blood, clearly- on Joe’s shoulder. The expression on his face was that of extreme anguish. She could almost hear him screaming his brother’s name.<\/p>\n Prompted only by the silence, she caught herself looking first at Adam’s office doorway then Joe’s. It had not occurred to her until that moment how close she had come to losing all of them. To lose Hoss would have devastated her, yes. At the same time, to have lost Adam would have yanked away the underpinnings of her world, sending into a downward spiral. He was more than her boss. He was her friend and sometime confidant – someone she would have needed to get through Hoss’. . .<\/p>\n “Pull yourself together, girl,” she admonished herself aloud. “This day is going to Hell in a handbasket, for sure. First you gonna fight old Jenny? For what? You don’t want either her job or her boss. Then you gonna lay into Faye McClellan? Again, for what? A silly school prank that everyone has forgotten about but you? You sit here moaning that Joe threw you out of his office and meekly you went? Big deal. The whole world knows how short his temper is. And didn’t he whisper that he was sorry as he left here? Face it, girl. This needs to be a mental health day. Get out of here. Go to the hospital. Maybe you can weasel a little time to sit with Hoss before the gestapo nurses catch you.” As she spoke, she gathered her purse. She checked to make sure she had what she needed in it. Then, as she closed it, the photos beneath it slipped, throwing one to the floor. She bent to pick it up. It stopped her in her tracks. With shaky fingers she picked it up.<\/p>\n “Okay. Change in plans. Take this to Adam. Nobody – and I mean nobody – knew this.” She carefully wedged the picture into her purse.<\/p>\n “Sweet my good Lord. Looks like a used car lot,” Joe muttered to himself as he pulled into the yard of the Ponderosa. Doctor Conover’s lime green VW bug was parked across the opening to the garage or Joe would have put the Jag in its normal spot. Jenny’s appropriated company Jeep was pulled up to the porch and Rosalie’s beat up Nissan was parked there are well. Joe nudged the Jag behind the VW – that was the farthest he could park the old car and still have it within hollering distance. As he eased out of it, he wondered about putting it in the barn since their riding horses were all down in the pasture. No, just wait until Doctor Conover left, he told himself and put on the air of nonchalance as he walked towards the open front door.<\/p>\n They were all gathered in the dining room. Only there was there enough room to lay out the photos- those Jenny had brought and those Rose had come with. Adam sat amid the three standing, arguing women, his head buried in his hands. They all fell silent when he cleared his throat.<\/p>\n “Somebody wanna fill me in?” he asked. Adam’s head rose and smiled grimly for his brother, showing sure gratitude.<\/p>\n But then all three women began to speak at once. Again. Joe longed to do what Adam had done- hide his head in his hands. Both hands in the air finally brought the verbal tornado to a grinding halt.<\/p>\n “That was educational,” he sarcastically threw out to them. He could see that the two office women were tempted to back away but the doctor was clearly holding her ground, one hand protectively resting on Adam’s shoulder.<\/p>\n “Have you seen these?” Adam asked, gesturing to the photos now covering the dining room table like a multi-colored cloth. Joe allowed that he’d seen some of them hanging in Faye’s dark room. “So you know about the truck – Lendal’s. ” Joe nodded, approaching cautiously, fearful of what else the photos had to tell. “Then what about this one?”<\/p>\n Adam handed Joe a glossy five by seven photo. While the main focus seemed to be on a tree trunk, just beyond it and off to one side stood the dark figure of a man. Joe tipped the photo to the light for a better view but it showed him nothing more than the man leaning over something next to a pole.<\/p>\n “That’s the last electric pole before the line goes into the building,” explained Adam. “Because of the tree, I can’t be sure of what he’s doing, can you?”<\/p>\n Joe brushed by Jenny and Rosalie then pulled out a chair to sit down, suddenly exhausted.<\/p>\n “It looks to me like he’s pushing the plunger on a detonator box,” Rosalie said.<\/p>\n “But that doesn’t make sense. Why would someone blow up what was already coming down?” Alex asked. “I mean you can see the smoke and dust blowing there in the background.” “I thought you said the building collapsed, Joe.” Adam turned his eyes to his brother.<\/p>\n For the first time since he’d taken the photo in hand, Joe looked around the room. He shook his head. “This man isn’t working over a detonator. If you’d spent more time in the field, Adam, you’d know just exactly what it is. And probably who it is.” When no one had challenged him, he went on. “That gizmo at his feet – or at least what I can see of it- is used by electricians to pull wire through long distances of conduit. It can pull three or four hundred feet of line easily.”<\/p>\n Jenny had taken the picture and had studied it as Joe had spoken. “Okay,” she agreed, speaking for the others. “That might answer the question about what it was but what about who it is?”<\/p>\n “Can you pull up files from the office server here at home, Adam? Jenny made a list of all the vehicles that were wrecked. Since no one got a truck or car out of the accident site, whoever this man is – well, he didn’t walk there.”<\/p>\n “His transportation is on that list.” Jenny nodded as she headed for the alcove and the computer there. In a few moments she returned, a sheet of paper in her hands. “All I got was license numbers, Joe. And that was the day after. How do we know this man didn’t get his vehicle out the day it all happened?”<\/p>\n Adam had reached into his brother’s pocket and retrieved his cell phone. A flip of his wrist and he had it open – only to scowl at the little machine. The battery was dead. Joe shrugged and claimed that he’d been too busy lately and had forgotten – “Never mind,” growled Adam and asked Rosalie to get him the house portable one. With the number dialed to the sheriff’s office, Adam asked for Roy Coffee. He wasn’t in but was there something he needed? Adam explained briefly the importance of the list of license numbers and asked if there was a way the numbers could be checked. Before a response could be made, Alex Conover put a long finger over the button and killed the call. She shook her head and made a face at Adam then handed the paper to Rosalie.<\/p>\n “That would take too long. There is a place on the web -” She gave the website address off the top of her head.”Use it. When it asks for a password, give it the word Alhambra.” As all looked at her questioningly, the young doctor simply shrugged her shoulders and said that it was good to know some things but maybe not all things.<\/p>\n As the sound of computer keys clicking echoed loudly across the room, the other four looked at one another.<\/p>\n “Since this is going to take a while, why don’t you rest, Adam?” Alex squeezed his shoulder as she asked, her voice a sultry purr.<\/p>\n Oddly though, he pushed her hand away and directed his uneasy stare at his brother. “Pa wants us at the hospital.” One look at Joe’s face told Adam he didn’t have to explain any more.<\/p>\n “I can’t. Not yet.”<\/p>\n “We don’t have a choice, you know. We need to be there.”<\/p>\n “I’ve got something I have to do; somewhere I need to go. You go ahead. Tell Pa that I’ll be there.”<\/p>\n “When? When, Joe? They can’t put this off any longer and it isn’t exactly fair -” Adam began but then caught onto a word his brother had said. “Where do you need to go, Joe? Where?”<\/p>\n Joe wouldn’t meet his brother’s eye so instead, he got up from the table and moved towards the kitchen. Adam followed him and, catching him before he got to the side door, whirled him around.<\/p>\n “You’re going up to the hotel site, aren’t you? I went by there on the way home. It’s still taped off.”<\/p>\n “Anybody working up there? See any State boys? Any sheriff vehicles?”<\/p>\n “No one but, Joe, it is still a crime scene, according to what I understand and you can’t be going in there.” To emphasize his words of warning, he shook Joe’s arm.<\/p>\n “What you don’t know can’t hurt you, Adam. You stay here. Go to the hospital. I don’t care. I should be back before midnight.” He brushed his brother’s grip aside.<\/p>\n “Joe,” Adam pleaded, his brother’s name a whisper between them. “How in God’s name are you getting up there? They have the road barricaded with concrete barriers. And while I realize that you have my car, I would prefer if you didn’t try to do something stupid with it.”<\/p>\n “Grown partial to the paint, have you?” Joe smiled briefly.<\/p>\n “And the metalwork. I want all of it back. And in the same condition it was in when you borrowed it. Besides that, Joe, what are you up to?”<\/p>\n For a couple of seconds, Joe considered being flippant with Adam. Just tell him that he would get all the parts of the car back and in their original configuration if he would just give him the ignition key. After all, the guy at the repair shop said that to fix the wiring and make the ignition work like it had before, he would need the keys. And Adam’d had a tight grip on his car keys ever since. No, instead Joe chose the only other option he felt was open to him. He told a partial truth.<\/p>\n “I won’t be using the Grape so you can rest easy.”<\/p>\n “Joe?”<\/p>\n “What you don’t know-”<\/p>\n Adam’s fist slammed into the door facing beside Joe’s head. Even as he opened his mouth to shout at him, Adam saw the answers. “You are going up to the hotel, all right. On horseback up the back way, the back side of Mount Rose. You’re going to be digging down into that front corner, the one that made the building collapse. Looking for something electrical? I mean the other electrical truck, the guy pulling wire at the pole – it has to be something electrical, right?”<\/p>\n “Bingo!” Joe whispered.<\/p>\n “You can’t do this alone! Call Roy. Tell him what we’ve found out. Let him-”<\/p>\n “No!” This time Joe shouted, the crystal glasses in the cabinets clinking with the force he used. Fearing it would draw the women, he whispered his next words. “You said Pa wanted us there today. If I give all this information to Roy and sit back and do nothing, I can’t go face Hoss. Not without knowing what happened, I can’t go there. Can’t see what I did to my own brother.”<\/p>\n Even though he let his body relax, Adam’s arms still bracketed Joe, not permitting him to open the door to leave. But with his own explanation, much of Adam’s confusion about Joe’s actions cleared away. Shame, the guilt-ridden fear that he’d been solely responsible of Hoss’…death. It had kept Joe away from the hospital yet it had not kept him away from trying to explain it, understand it. As he looked at their boot toes on the tiled kitchen floor, Adam understood everything.<\/p>\n And nothing.<\/p>\n “I’ll go with you. If we leave in another half hour or so, we should get there right at dusk. Get the horses saddled. I’ll get us some supplies together. Flashlights.”<\/p>\n “My digital camera is in my bag in the front of the Jeep, Joe. Best take it.” Both surprised men turned at the sound of Jenny’s words.”What if the evidence you find is too big to bring home on the back of a horse?”<\/p>\n “Back of a horse? I don’t recall Paul Martin saying anything about riding a horse any time soon.” Alex Conover shouldered her way into the kitchen past Jenny. “Well, if you are so dead set on it and I can see by the looks on your faces that you are, I’d best go with you. Like anything I could do would stop you.”<\/p>\n “Got another horse? Jenny, you take over the license search.”<\/p>\n When the older woman got her dander raised it took Adam to settle it. He did. “Good idea since you don’t ride, Jenny.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “At six o’clock, you leave here and stop by the hotel entrance. Give it a good look-around for anyone in uniform. If you don’t see anyone, give my cell phone one ring. Two rings says there is someone there. Pretend to be having car trouble or something so you have to wait.”<\/p>\n “Keep an eye on your back door, so to speak, huh? All right, I’ll do it but you youngsters need to know that in my day, I rode. Oh my, but I could ride…”<\/p>\n The horses were brought in from the pasture and saddled in short order. Alex would take Ben’s Buck, an animal she had some history with since she and Adam had gone riding once and the old buckskin quarter horse had proven an easy ride for her. Rosalie had automatically gone for Hoss’ Chub even though she would need help getting into the saddle because the Morgan stood so tall. Joe had helped her throw the saddle on and, out of ear- and eye-shot from the others, he’d hugged her fiercely as she’d wiped a tear away.<\/p>\n “It’s going to be okay, Rosalie. We’re gonna find out who did this to Hoss, I swear we will.”<\/p>\n She chewed on her trembling lower lip and nodded. “If they would just let me in to see him, to talk to him. Just once.”<\/p>\n He patted her back as he told her that he would see to that. “And if I can’t, I’m sure Doc Alex over there can. So count on it. Before tonight’s over. Like I said, we’re gonna find out who did this to Hoss.”<\/p>\n “And just how do you intend to do that?” a voice asked above the slap of saddle leather and clink of metal bits.<\/p>\n Roy Coffee smoothed his mustache with his thumb as he watched the faces before him. Rosalie and the doctor both looked like does caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Adam Cartwright blinked twice but his neutral expression stayed locked in place. The face the sheriff wanted to see was Joe’s, but he’d ducked behind his horse’s back, hiding it. Roy almost chuckled aloud, nearly blowing his own stern demeanor. Just like when he was a kid, he thought but then put it aside.<\/p>\n “I asked a question but nobody’s answering me. Let me guess. You aren’t going for an evening ride just for the hell of it, are you? Never mind. Don’t answer me. I don’t want to know about a crime in the making.” Again, the sheriff found his mustache needed grooming.<\/p>\n Jenny, having seen his arrival, pushed him roughly out of the way as she joined the group in the barn. “Polite folks would get out of the way, you old coot.” Her tone was not congenial. It made Adam grimace and Joe wince. “And don’t be tryin’ to throw your weight around here. You’re out of your jurisdiction unless you’ve managed to-”<\/p>\n “Jenny! What in tarnation-?” Roy sputtered.<\/p>\n She shook her finger in his face. “You lost what’s left of your hearing? Lord knows, you haven’t changed a bit over the years. Still gettin’ in the way of doin’ what’s right. Now you just get back in that fancy set of wheels that you talked Storey County out of – never did understand how you did that- and hightail it back to your own turf.”<\/p>\n Adam moved towards the bickering pair. One glimpse out the door showed him that the sun was now dipping towards the western mountain rims. A sense of urgency swept over him. The sooner he appeased the sheriff, the sooner they could be on their way. If they didn’t get underway soon, they’d be stumbling over dangerous ground – the hotel wreckage- in the dark. Unless…could Roy be there to help? The possibility edged into Adam’s mind but he shoved it aside. If nothing else, the lawman upheld the law; he wasn’t there to help circumvent it.<\/p>\n But Jenny wouldn’t let go. Now her finger was doing push-ups on Roy’s chest, backing him up step by step out of the barn. She continued her harangue. And every time he tried to get a word in edgewise, she would shut him down. Watching them, all of the younger ones saw the opening Jenny was creating. A swiftly traded glance had each gathering reins and edging forward. Rosalie was first out of the barn and into the yard with Joe and Adam following closely behind and Alex bringing up the rear. Jenny saw them, and with her hand, pushed Storey County’s sheriff a little farther from the barn door. The two Cartwrights mounted swiftly. One handed, Adam was able to lift Rosalie up far enough to gain Chub’s stirrup and she straddled the big Morgan. The doctor had no trouble with Buck; he seemed to sense the urgency.<\/p>\n Roy could hear and see the four. It frustrated him that Jenny was in his way, demanding his attention. Finally, his patience completely unraveled, he shouted for Adam to stop. He was thankful that Ben’s training included a healthy respect for the constabulary. The big chestnut stopped and Adam turned in the saddle.<\/p>\n “Got another horse? You find something up there at the site and you’ll need a witness. And I’d make a damn good one!” he shouted. What am I doing? Throwing away thirty years in law enforcement? Along with my pension? The logical, sane thoughts were chased by a staggeringly sober one: Ben Cartwright would do the same for me.<\/p>\n “There’s a brown mare out in the pasture that’s easy to catch. And there’s spare gear in the barn.” A wave of his hand and Adam was gone, leaving the sheriff and Jenny standing in the yard.<\/p>\n Roy harrumphed once. He drew his lips into a stern frown and glared at the little gray haired woman beside him. “You ever heard of obstruction of justice?”<\/p>\n Surprisingly, she smiled up at him then stood on tip-toe and kissed his grizzled cheek. She patted his chest for good measure. “You need help catching that horse?”<\/p>\n They were to the eastern shoulder of Mount Rose before Roy caught up to them. Just over the crest and down less than a half mile lay the remains of the hotel. There was no trail and only by dead reckoning would they get to where they needed to be before the sunlight deserted them completely. The others had followed Joe’s lead. After all, as Adam had pointed out, his brother had grown up riding in these mountains and knew them intimately. The family had often joked that he could find his way home in a blizzard – that was if he wanted to come home.<\/p>\n “Hold up a second,” demanded Roy then softened it by stating that his horse needed a breather. He leaned over the saddle horn and breathed deeply of the pine-thick air.<\/p>\n “Jenny tell you what we’ve discovered?” Joe asked.<\/p>\n Roy nodded. “And it made sense – at least part of it did. What didn’t make sense was why you didn’t just call me and tell me this. I can’t believe that your father would agree to this escapade!”<\/p>\n “What he doesn’t know right now can’t hurt him. Besides, he has enough on his mind about Hoss,” Adam countered. It didn’t escape any of them that he hadn’t been able to look at Roy when he spoke. “Besides, how long would it take the State boys to figure that this really was a crime scene and not just an accident?”<\/p>\n “Too long!” Joe interjected before he nudged his pinto down the slope. Once more the others followed with Roy bringing up the rear.<\/p>\n The sun was just dipping behind the Northern Crystals when Joe pulled his horse to a stop and slithered to the ground. He dropped the reins; Cochise would stay there until Hell froze over. Adam was checking the cell phone. He shook his head. Both men helped the ladies dismount and secured their mounts. Roy was left to his own devices so he stiffly swung a leg over the mare’s back. Only a strong grip on the saddle horn kept him from falling before he regained full feeling in his legs. It was a moment too long. The younger members had moved off on foot; he had to hustle to keep up.<\/p>\n They gained the open area around the pile of debris that had been a dream. Adam paused for a moment, seeing the complete devastation for the first time and yet again as he recalled it happening. Alex’s hand on his arm brought him back. Her whispered apology meant nothing to him. He shook his head then patted her hand, moving forward with her. Joe may have felt solely responsible for what might ultimately take their brother’s life but Adam’d silently disagreed. Hadn’t he been the one to envision this horrid monstrosity? That was how he viewed it now. Not a glorious building that had soared into the blue skies while nestled in the pines beside a turquoise lake. No. Now Adam could only view it as a demon dream, a nightmare. If they hadn’t needed the evidence hidden in that front corner, he would have burnt its remains. Even that inferno wouldn’t absolve his soul, freeing him from the truth. His dream had done the unthinkable.<\/p>\n The cell phone purred twice in Adam’s shirt pocket. The faint sound brought them up short. He checked the screen. It was Jenny. Two rings meant that there was someone down at the hotel’s drive entrance. The original four stood frozen, their eyes riveted on Roy Coffee.<\/p>\n “What are you looking at me for? Jenny was right. I am out of my jurisdiction! I’ve got no say here!”<\/p>\n “Then why did you come?” Alex asked softly. “To give witness that we were trespassing on a crime scene? No, wait! It isn’t a crime scene until you say it is? Is that it?” Her soft words – venomous and hissed- seemed to fill the air the same way the destroyed building did the clearing.<\/p>\n Roy took off his gray Stetson and wiped the inner band with a handkerchief. Slowly he nodded then told them what they all knew any way. That afternoon, the State Arson Squad had contacted the sheriff of Washoe County and told them that they expected foul play in the collapse of the hotel. The other sheriff had then called Roy and asked him his opinion of Cartwright and Sons Construction.<\/p>\n “I told him that it was ridiculous to think that you’d build this only to defraud Grissom. It’s well known that you boys don’t exactly see eye to eye with him but then there aren’t many who do. What I told him was that I would come out and talk with you but you haven’t exactly given me the chance, have you?”<\/p>\n “Talk about what?” Adam heatedly asked.<\/p>\n “Grissom…and you, Adam. Word has it that he owed Cartwright and Sons a lot of money. And that you were threatening to place a lien on the property unless he paid it in full. That true?”<\/p>\n “So what if it was? We were in our legal rights to do so!” Rosalie piped up.<\/p>\n The lawman shook his head, all the while looking at Adam. “Well, Adam? Hush now, Rosalie. I want to hear it straight from him.”<\/p>\n “I had told him we would but in our last conversation before the…the…collapse, he’d said he had the full payment. Even asked if I would arrange for our insurance to transfer coverage- oh my God! That’s it, isn’t it?”<\/p>\n “I don’t understand,” said Alex, seeing the faces around her go tight in anger.<\/p>\n Joe answered. “Grissom did this for the insurance money on the place. I’ll bet he didn’t have the full payment like he said he did. He did this!” Word by word, the anger rose in him, engulfing him completely in anger. He lashed out at Roy’s restraining gesture. “When I find that son of a bitch, I’ll take him apart. Get out of my way, Roy.”<\/p>\n “NO! We came here for a purpose. We need to find out how he did it!” Adam pulled Joe back and around to face him. For a long moment they struggled together, the older brother’s hands wrapped tightly around the younger one’s biceps, holding him fiercely. Finally, Adam leaned forward and whispered something that only Joe could hear. That seemed to suffice and he rocked back on his heels, nodding.<\/p>\n Without another word, they moved to what had once been the front corner of the hotel. Although the photos had shown that this was where it had all begun, there was little rubble there. Only two pieces of wall wreckage had to be moved before Joe found something he’d wanted all along – the prints with his red markings on them showing how each phase of the building had been accomplished. In the fading light, the two brothers studied them, trading half-phrases that the others could only barely comprehend. In the end, Joe jabbed a dirty finger at a line on one drawing and Adam nodded in agreement.<\/p>\n “But how far down is that?” asked Adam when Joe rolled up the drawings and laid them aside.<\/p>\n The younger man smiled lopsidedly and put his arm over his head. “Should have been out here in November when we were trying to get that wall up so we could enclose it for the winter. Spent a lot of time down in that hole trying to stay out of the wind.”<\/p>\n They formed a bucket-brigade type of line to move the rubble. Even so, before they reached the seven foot mark Joe had indicated, it was dark. Yet they went on by flashlight. What was too big and too heavy, the brothers worked around. Then it happened. One moment Joe was just below Adam and the next he was gone. Dust rose, choking Adam and Roy. They shouted Joe’s name together.<\/p>\n A chuckle echoed through the settling dust. A beam of light followed it up through a Joe-sized hole at their feet. A hand reached up but shook off Adam’s offer to pull him back up.<\/p>\n “Where’s that camera?” queried Joe. “You are not going to believe this. Roy, you’re probably too big to fit through the hole but you can see it, can’t you?”<\/p>\n Roy cautiously changed places with Adam and allowed that he could see down into the hole. Joe was hunched over, shining his flashlight at his feet. “But all I see are two marks in the dust! Looks like someone dragged something there through the busted up flooring.”<\/p>\n The camera flashed several times while Adam explained. It had to have been what the man standing by the electrical service pole had been pulling since the tracks had to have been made after the collapse. Roy could only surmise the situation since he had not personally seen the photo.<\/p>\n “What else?” Roy called down when the direction of the camera’s flash changed.<\/p>\n Joe asked for another flashlight. By its beam he followed the tracks. They ended abruptly at a ragged piece of cement. Sticking out of the gray matter were three wires. Electrical wires. Heavy duty electrical wires that shouldn’t have been there. In order to remain within the legal building codes, all electrical wires should have been encased in a conduit made of pipe-type materials. These weren’t. He sat back on his haunches and lifted a grimy hand to run through his hair. It didn’t help him think. So he did the next best thing- he took the puzzle to his brother.<\/p>\n With only his head and shoulders sticking out of the hole, he showed the digital picture he’d taken to the other two men.<\/p>\n “Can you bring the concrete piece up?”<\/p>\n Joe shook his head in answer Roy. “I tried to move it some but it flaked away in my hand. Too big a piece, I think.”<\/p>\n “It flaked away in your hand?” Adam’s repetition of Joe’s words held a tone of disbelief.<\/p>\n “Yeah. Just like it was old or something.”<\/p>\n Adam pulled himself upright and gestured for Joe to come with him. Together they stepped away from the impromptu excavation. “There are only two ways that concrete crumbles into dust. One is too much alkali in the mix. Where are the batch tickets from the concrete plant? Please don’t tell me that they were in the trailer.”<\/p>\n “At the office,” Rosalie informed them. “Last time Jenny brought in time sheets, she brought the file because there was an accounting problem with the subcontractor.”<\/p>\n “I checked the mixes of every truckload myself, Adam. They were all within specifications. The testing lab confirmed it.”<\/p>\n “What’s the other way?”asked Alex.<\/p>\n “Heat,” both brothers answered together. Adam went on. “The un-encased electrical wires would have been the source but it takes a long time.”<\/p>\n “Well, as I understand it, the electric bill was high for that project from the time we turned on permanent power. I remember you even teasing Joe about it, Adam, wanting to know if he was setting up a marijuana growing operation.” Rosalie couldn’t help herself. She laughed at the memory. Roy Coffee cleared his throat noisily and she stopped abruptly. “Yes and no,” began Joe then explained how the floor would have been littered with long cords over the winter months as the many and varied crews used power tools. It could have appeared to be just another one.<\/p>\n Adam shook his head and pointed again at the view screen of the digital camera. “This picture of the drag marks shows them on dirt, Joe. The wire went in before the foundation concrete was poured.”<\/p>\n “Now I’m just a doctor and I don’t know the least little thing about what you two are talking about but it doesn’t sound like something that could’ve been done when you started having problems with Grissom paying you. That means that Cartwright and Sons Construction had no motive against Grissom when these wires were first put there. Right, Sheriff Coffee?”<\/p>\n “But there is more to it. There has to be. Why would Grissom want to destroy his own hotel?” Roy spread his hands and tried to see the others’ faces by the first stars’ faint glow.<\/p>\n Rosalie had the answer. “He’s had trouble with his backers. His financial backers. After that malarky with his secretary and her cronies going into the cattle rustling business, he’s been hard pressed to look legitimate, I would guess. And some of his money-men maybe weren’t exactly sure that he wasn’t involved with her scheme?”<\/p>\n “Possibly,” allowed the lawman but he could also see Adam and Joe shaking their heads. He asked them what they thought.<\/p>\n “Yes,” Adam responded slowly, the word drawing out. “He may have been having trouble with his backers but that would have happened after we started on the project. This- ” and he flicked a finger at the camera. “This was done way early in the game.”<\/p>\n “He wanted it to fail. If we hadn’t come here tonight, hadn’t known what we know now from the pictures, the plans, everyone would have thought the same thing. Shoddy workmanship and materials made it fall. Cartwright and Sons Construction would ultimately fail because no one would believe in us again. I know, Roy, you said the State Arson guys said it was ‘foul play’ but they didn’t have all the facts. Even now, with all the pieces before us, I can’t put it all together. Can’t give Grissom a motive except…except that he wanted us ruined.” Joe took a shaky breath once he’d finished.<\/p>\n “Get back down there and get me a piece of that concrete block. I’ll take it to the state lab and have it analyzed. We have to figure out how he did it before we can even begin to say why he did it, you know.” Roy’s pointing finger at Joe sent him back down into the hole.<\/p>\n He squeezed himself around, and with the flashlight tucked under his arm, he managed to once more face the rubble of the block wall. Softly admonishing himself to be careful, he grasped the edge of a broken block and tugged. It fell apart in his hands. He cursed softly and tried another piece. This corner section came away in his hands nearly intact but the weight of it surprised him so he let it drop to his feet. He re-adjusted the armpit-hold on the flashlight and leaned down to get a two-handed grip on it. There, hunched over in the dusty darkness, his eye caught a glimpse of something metallic.<\/p>\n He scrapped away a powdering of dust and picked it up, chuckling. His keys. He’d found his keys. But more importantly, he’d found the answer to a pressing dilemma. On the key ring was one no one knew he had – a copy of an ignition key to a certain 1965 Jaguar. He smiled broadly at the wad of keys. Now he had what he would need for the guys down at Teddy’s to put the Grape’s ignition back together. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, Adam would never know any difference. Well, a guy had to hope, didn’t he?<\/p>\n Joe pushed the keys into his jeans’ pocket then shoved the broken concrete block portion up through the hole in the debris. Bits and pieces of concrete, dust and other minute particles came back down at him and he turned his face to avoid being pelted by it. The weight left his hands at the same moment he noticed something where he had pulled away the broken block. Shifting the flashlight to his hand, he knelt in the dust and debris. There, where the concrete foundation would rise into the cement block wall that would have been part of the hotel restaurant’s storage area, he found hand-sized puddles of once-molten metal. Dull in color, he almost missed them but once he’d found one, the next was easy to spot. He shined the light along the edge of the broken wall as far as the pile of broken timbers and blocks would allow. Remembering that he had the camera in his shirt pocket, he took several photos of those puddles before he picked one up. He hefted it in his hand. It proved dense and heavy. But then the rebar they had used would be, wouldn’t it? Yes, those rods of reinforcing steel that had gone from the foundation up through the block walls had become puddles of molten metal. Catastrophic fire would do that, he knew, but there were no signs of fire. And the only other source of heat strong enough? It had been there until that shadowy man seen in the photo had tried pulling it away. Electricity. A lot of it and for a long time.<\/p>\n With Adam giving him a final hand up, Joe pulled himself out of the hole. Even before Joe brushed himself off, he handed the metal glob to the sheriff, explaining what he believed it to be. Roy nodded his understanding, his mustache once more taking a thumb-nail stroking.<\/p>\n The harsh shout from below them made them all look up sharply. Roy Coffee turned. From what he could see, it was a young Nevada Patrolman with Jenny scurrying behind him as fast as her old legs would carry her, her hand grasping out for the younger man?s arm. In a moment?s flash the sheriff assessed the situation: they?d been caught. And there was only way to diffuse the coming explosion ? namely with one of his own.<\/p>\n He took two steps towards the uniformed officer. The odd puddle of molten metal he tossed to the patrolman. The crumbling concrete chunk he handed over with more care.\u00a0 “Get these over to the State Labs right away. Tell them I want a full work up done on them ASAP.”<\/p>\n The other peace officer stood there, an awkward and stunned expression on his face as juggled the enigmatic pieces. “But I didn?t think anyone was up here, sir. I mean, I was told.”<\/p>\n “Do you think it really matters to me what some idiotic watch commander told you? Do you know who I am, boy?” Roy blustered, spreading his chest as he thumped it. It was a good thing that the young man couldn’t see the expression on Jenny’s face for she was having a difficult time not laughing aloud.\u00a0 “So what are you waiting for, junior? Get a move on!”\u00a0 Roy continued, smacking his hands together for good measure.<\/p>\n The trooper nearly ran Jenny over getting back down the driveway. It probably never occurred to him to ask how the sheriff got up there to the hotel site or that Jenny never came down with him. All he knew was that the esteemed sheriff of Storey County had given him an order.<\/p>\n “And don?t spare the horses getting that to them!” shouted Roy to the departing figure. Then and only when he was sure the other was out of earshot did he laugh. A word to the Western Nevada Patrol watch commander would be in order. The old sheriff would see to it first thing when he got back to his vehicle. It would only cost him a bottle of good Kentucky sipping whiskey but he would be sure that the trooper didn?t get into any trouble. After all, didn’t the State boys owe him a little something for his continued support?<\/p>\n “That was close, Roy,” Adam sighed, a hand running over his neck in relief.\u00a0 “I thought for sure I was going to be calling for bail money.”<\/p>\n “Who would you have called? Everybody I would call is standing right here,” parried Joe, shaking loose dirt from his hair.<\/p>\n “How long before we know something?” Why Alex had suddenly placed herself as part of the ‘we’, she wondered but didn”t know. It just felt right so she gave it no continued thought.<\/p>\n Roy shook his head.\u00a0 “Don?t know. But there are too many things that aren’t adding up. But even an idiot in the Lab could tell you that this was no accident.” He purposely turned and put a hand on Adam?s shoulder.\u00a0 “And that it wasn’t caused by poor workmanship or materials.”<\/p>\n “We’d better be moving it before it gets too dark to see where we’re going.”\u00a0 Rosalie edged up the slope, headed for the horses as she spoke. The others nodded and began to follow her; Jenny headed away from them and towards her waiting car at the foot of the drive.<\/p>\n Just before they would have entered the trees and mounted their patient horses, Adam paused to turn, to look once more. The shimmering lake, the hint of an evening breeze swaying the towering trees, the call of some night-bird on the wing. These were all that greeted him now. The last time he?d stood here, he?d relished the fulfillment of a dream, a long held dream of a building meshing with its environment. Of man-made grace and beauty interlacing fingers with Nature and holding hands to share the peace found there. Now now there was nothing. Unconsciously, he whispered that last word.<\/p>\n “No,”\u00a0 came the single word reply, softly, gently. His brother’s hand rested on his shoulder even though Adam had begun to hesitantly move toward the shadows and the others. It was enough to hold him. “No. It isn’t gone, Adam. The things that made it all worthwhile are still there.”<\/p>\n Adam shook his head once then brushed aside his brother’s hand.\u00a0 “No, it’s gone. Maybe it isn’t for you but for me? No.” Again he shook his head. He went to the side of his horse and swung tiredly into the saddle. It was as if all the energy he?d had the last few days had disappeared – just by seeing the remains of the hotel backdropped by Lake Tahoe and the other towering mountains.<\/p>\n Joe hadn’t moved. Silhouetted against the fading light, he stood, hands braced against his hips, his shoulders hunched, his head fallen forward. Adam knew that if he could have seen his brother?s face that his eyes would be closed. He called his name once then tacked on that the darkness was coming on hard. But still Joe didn?t move. Adam motioned for the women and the sheriff to ride on then relieved their anxiety by telling them that the horses would know the way and to just give them their heads. He waited until the creak and groan of saddle leather told him that they were far enough away to not hear the brothers.<\/p>\n “Come on, Joe. Pa needs us at the hospital. And I am not going without you. If nothing else but because I told Paul Martin I wouldn?t drive for another few days.”<\/p>\n Still, Joe remained motionless. Adam called his name once more, putting some of his renowned authority into the single syllable. Joe merely shook his head.<\/p>\n “No, you go on. I want to stand here a while longer. I need to figure out why this place is so powerful.”<\/p>\n Adam?s brow arched in consternation, confusion. ?Powerful? I think the word I once used here was engrossing.?<\/p>\n “Powerful,” Joe repeated and raised his head, half-twisting to face his brother?s shadow.\u00a0 “So powerful that it can strip away a dream and nothing is done about it. So powerful that it reduces men to mewing kittens, hiding behind the skirts of the law. So powerful that it can take one brother’s life and the other’s backbone. I can’t understand that kind of power. I can’t understand it and I can?t feel it. You go on, Adam. You go to the hospital and be with Pa. You be there when they pull the plug and Hoss dies. You go on. I can’t. I canl’t stand there and watch my brother die because of nothing. I can?t be there and know that he died and that it means …nothing.”\u00a0 Even in the growing darkness, Adam could hear his ragged breathing and knew that Joe was fighting himself.\u00a0 “So you go on, Brother. Go on and stand there doing nothing. I’m tired of doing nothing. You may have lost your backbone but I haven’t. I’m going to take care of this, this nothing.”<\/p>\n Sport danced and tossed his head but did as Adam asked him to and blocked the trail. Cochise’s white spots stood out plainly while the rest of horse and rider remained in the darkness.\u00a0 “You are not going anywhere with that attitude, Joe,”\u00a0 Adam warned for he could feel the angry energy radiating from his youngest brother.<\/p>\n “You gonna try and stop me?”<\/p>\n Adam felt more than saw him move closer in the mountain night?s almost non-existent light. He knew if he reached out, he could touch him. He did.<\/p>\n And had his hand slapped away.<\/p>\n “Joe, don’t,” he tried to warn once more.<\/p>\n “What? You gonna stop me?”<\/p>\n “If I have to, I will.” The thread running through Adam?s tone now was made of steel. Just hearing it made Joe?s bark of laughter harsh and derisive in reply.<\/p>\n “Hell of a time for you to find some backbone. Why don?t you save it?”<\/p>\n “Don’t, Joe. I don?t need it from you and I don?t want it. Not right now and not later either.”<\/p>\n “Why? It’s just nothing. Isn’t that what you just said? That it was nothing?”\u00a0 The last shouted word, that denial of all things, seemed to hang in the air before Adam?s eyes, blocking out the rest of the world. When he could finally shake it away, all that remained on the back side of Mount Rose was the sound of a horse and rider as it plummeted pell-mell down the trail away from him.<\/p>\n Even though Adam caught up to the women and Roy, Joe was not with them. When asked, Adam simply told Roy that they needed to hurry. Joe knew his way down the mountain.<\/p>\n “Then why do we need to hurry?” Rosalie asked, edging Chubb closer to Alex.<\/p>\n “Because he?s going to do something stupid,” was Adam?s answer. “He’s going after Grissom.” Alex’s hand on his leg pulled his attention back to the yard and those there.\u00a0 “Rosalie and I?ll take care of the horses. You go lay down for a bit.”<\/p>\n “No,” he asserted, swinging down from the saddle. He fingered her cheek and smiled, the overhead light in the yard glistening off her dark hair. He gathered her hands in his.\u00a0 “I?d like to but I can?t, Alex. Roy?” When the old sheriff gave him a gruff ?what?? Adam went on.\u00a0 “We’d better head down to South Lake. Grissom’s office. Joe’s headed down there. I know he is and I have to stop him from doing something stupid.”\u00a0 Even as he said the words, his stomach churned. But still there was no indication of a purple Jaguar convertible in front of them.<\/p>\n “You sure he?s headed for Grissom’s office?”<\/p>\n “Positive, Roy. He thinks Grissom is behind all this and he?s out for justice.”<\/p>\n Roy grunted. He wanted to see Adam?s face; wanted to know what he thought but he couldn?t take his eyes off the traffic long enough to make a proper assessment. Asking would have to suffice.\u00a0 “And you? You think Grissom is behind it too?”<\/p>\n “Nothing else makes sense. When you look at a crime, don?t you start by asking yourself who has the most to gain?”<\/p>\n Swerving to miss a sedan that obviously hadn?t paid attention to the flashing lights behind his grille work, Roy said, “Dare I point out that there isn?t anything to gain? The hotel is gone.”<\/p>\n “But if he can get the insurance company to pay off big time, he can pay off the loan on the property the hotel sat on. That piece of property is going to be worth a pretty penny in the coming years ? with or without a hotel sitting on it. Look at it, Roy. It is the last developed property of any size on the north end of Lake Tahoe.”<\/p>\n “Except the Ponderosa.”<\/p>\n Adam nodded, opening his eyes just in time to see Roy skim by a pedestrian caught against the signal lights in the crosswalk.\u00a0 “Except for the Ponderosa,” he agreed then went on.\u00a0 “And if he takes Cartwright and Sons Construction to civil court, pleading loss of investment and profit, he can have that too.” “I don?t know. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. And I may be giving him more credit for deviousness than what he has. All I know is that I need to stop Joe before he plays right into Grissom’s hand.”<\/p>\n “No,” the sheriff said, sliding his SUV into the parking lot that led to Grissom?s land development offices.\u00a0 “I need to stop him. You need to stay as far out of this as you can. Understood?”\u00a0 He longed to tell Adam that he felt certain he could handle the youngest Cartwright brother but the eldest one? Maybe not.<\/p>\n There was a sliver of light from under the rear office’s door. Yet no sound, no raised voices met Roy?s shout that he was the sheriff and that he was entering the unlocked front door of Grissom’s. Caution and training told him to have his cocked weapon in his hand but he ignored them both. As far as he knew, Joe Cartwright wouldn’t have had a weapon. Grissom might, he considered, but he would take his chances. Appearing non-threatening might diffuse the situation easier and faster. As he made his way towards that closed door, he called again, this time calling names.<\/p>\n Adam paused at the glass door, oddly wondering when Grissom had removed the word ?consortium? from the gold-leafed sign there. His nerves danced with every tiny real or imagined noise. He could barely make out Roy’s shadowy figure down the hallway; he could hear the warnings clear enough. Whatever else, Grissom would not be able to justifiably say that the sheriff was snooping. Still, the intervening silence, the lack of a response from the office at the end of the dark hall, ate at Adam?s steadiness. So much so that his mouth went dry. Not five feet from the door and the sheriff?s back, Adam heard a click. Roy, his hand on the door, heard it as well.<\/p>\n When nothing followed the click, Roy nodded to himself, took a deep breath and put his hand on the knob.<\/p>\n The deafening gunshot filled the hallway.<\/p>\n In the next heartbeat, Adam Cartwright felt as though he aged twenty years. There were only two possible scenarios behind that closed door, he thought.Whichever presented itself, he would have to explain it to his father. Neither one was good. And both made him sick to his stomach.<\/p>\n The first one he envisioned having to tell his father about was the plainest, the simplest, and the most painful. In it, his brother was sprawled across the floor, blood pouring from a fatal gunshot wound. Adam didn’t know which he would have wanted: a chance for a few last words with Joe or…. It didn’t matter. The outcome would be the same. And he would have to tell his father that Grissom had taken two of his sons – maybe three since Adam wasn’t sure he could contain his own anger.<\/p>\n The second one would only draw things out and make things far worse. He could see the scene clearly enough that he would be able to describe it in detail later. Joe, standing ramrod straight over the fallen body of the land developer, a smoking gun still clenched in his hand…and Roy Coffee having to arrest him on a clear case of murder. Hopefully a smart lawyer could concoct a plea of temporary insanity and the death penalty would be taken off the table. Even so, his brother would go to jail – most likely for the rest of his natural life. And either way, Adam knew his father would throw away the rest of his own life, trying to salvage this one.<\/p>\n With the noise of the gunshot still ricocheting off the hallway walls and ringing in his ears, he was nonetheless deaf to it. All Adam could do was watch Roy’s hand tighten on the door handle then fling the door open, bathing the hallway in sudden light. He squinted in the brightness, momentarily blind yet even as he blinked to clear his vision, his hearing returned. There were shouts – mostly from Roy demanding that everyone in the room remain where they were then came the demand for the weapon. Then came Joe’s shout.<\/p>\n What unfolded before Adam’s startled eyes was a third scenario that no one would have been unable to predict. Joe Cartwright was sprawled across Grissom’s body on the floor. Neither combatant’s hand were visible, locked between their struggling bodies. The only face Adam could see was Grissom’s. The older man’s features were snarling, dark and full of hate. Neither man looked away from the other to see Roy’s gun pointed at them.<\/p>\n “He’s got a gun shoved into my stomach!” Joe shouted. “If I turn loose of his hand, he’ll pull the trigger!”<\/p>\n “No, he won’t,” Roy hissed, the three words backed up by his own pistol dropping down to an inch from Grissom’s temple. “If he does, there won’t be a trial but there will be a life sentence – a real short one.” The sheriff cocked his head slightly, his eyes locked with Grissom’s.<\/p>\n “You wouldn’t dare,” spat Grissom. “With witnesses? You’d shoot a man just defending himself? Cartwright came busting in here and I had to defend myself. If I turn loose of this gun, he’ll shoot me!”<\/p>\n “I know better. Adam, get a-hold of Joe.” He whispered softly into Joe’s ear. “Are you all right?” Relief flooded into him when Joe barely nodded.<\/p>\n “Get him out to my truck,” Roy was demanding, his gun still trained on the prone Grissom, and lifting his two-way radio and calling for back-up.<\/p>\n With his arm still wrapped tight around Joe’s chest, Adam manhandled him out into the cool night air.<\/p>\n “Turn me loose!” Joe demanded, struggling to free himself from a hold he recognized as his brother’s signature move from childhood.<\/p>\n “Not until you calm down enough to satisfy me.” He pinned him against Roy’s SUV. Several people in the parking lot paused to watch so Adam gave him a little extra shove. Might as well give them a show. Might need them as witnesses. To himself he almost chuckled. Again he asked softly. “Are you all right?”<\/p>\n “Mad as hell.” Adam’s arm tightened and again Joe was pushed into the side of the truck. “But other than that, yes, I’m all right.”<\/p>\n “You want to tell me what happened in there?”<\/p>\n “You want to turn me loose?” came the challenge ripped back.<\/p>\n Adam tightened his grip once more as a warning. If he had told the truth at that very moment, he wasn’t sure that he could have actually held Joe if he’d truly wanted to get away. He filed that bit of information away for later use. Little brother ain’t so little any more. Finally, he dropped his arm but with his body, corralled Joe against the truck.<\/p>\n “Now then. What happened in there?”<\/p>\n The story came tumbling out of Joe, words chasing words, his body half-reacting to them. He paced the open slot between the SUV and the Jag, always coming back to where Adam now reclined against the truck.<\/p>\n “I came down here to confront Grissom. He was in his office, shoving some paper into his shredder. Stopped that when I entered but acted very nonchalant. Even offered me a drink. Like I would drink with that -”<\/p>\n “Joe,” Adam warned, then, “get back to what happened.”<\/p>\n “I told him we had the proof that he’d sabotaged the hotel.”<\/p>\n “We have proof that it was sabotaged but not by whom.”<\/p>\n Joe shook his head once. “Okay, so I was bluffing with that part. Didn’t matter. He went white as a sheet. I told him that he was going down – fraud, murder, everything I could think of to hit him with. He got red then. Screamed that he wasn’t guilty of a damn thing. That’s when he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out that gun. Said he’d make it look like I attacked him and he was just defending himself but that in the end, it would all come out the way he wanted it to.”<\/p>\n He paused and ran a hand through his unruly hair. Adam remained silent, sensing the crashing waves of emotion hitting and washing across his own mind as well, draining him too.<\/p>\n Finally, he couldn’t wait a moment longer. With a hand to Joe’s arm he stopped the pacing.<\/p>\n “And that was what?”<\/p>\n “He said that he would have the land, and all of it. Might take him a while in court, but he could wait. Said Pa would be ruined but that didn’t matter. What they wanted was the land.”<\/p>\n Adam’s attention snagged on one word. “They?” he repeated. “Grissom said they? As in plural?”<\/p>\n Joe nodded. “He wasn’t talking about the hotel site, was he, Adam? He was talking about taking the Ponderosa, wasn’t he?” It was Adam’s turn to nod. “That’s been his goal all along? Why?”<\/p>\n “We see it every day and still we don’t really see it, Joe. When Pa came here almost thirty years ago, there wasn’t much here around Lake Tahoe. There were some houses, yes, but not like there is today. And you could buy one of those houses for a couple of grand. Today? Tony Kelsey recently sold that old lakefront cabin his parents built back in the sixties. Want to guess how much he got for it? Better than a million dollars, Joe. Think. If the Kelsey’s leaky cabin sitting on a quarter acre lot pulled that much, what do you suppose the Ponderosa is worth? Several thousand times over what Pa built it for, my dear brother. And that’s just the house. Imagine the land. Up the mountainside, down into Washoe Valley. Over to Spooner and the pass. Other way to Mount Rose. You yourself have talked about what an awesome ski-run Diamond Peak would make.”<\/p>\n “But it’s too steep to build houses on. You’ve said so!” countered Joe.<\/p>\n “Not if it’s terraced. Given a developer with lots of savvy – maybe not Grissom but someone like him – and a lot of money backing him, it could be done. Yes, they would have to do a lot of politicking with the Tahoe Regional Planning Authority but it could be done.”<\/p>\n “And if we don’t hold onto the land, it will be. Right up to edges of the State and Federal lands.” Joe leaned his head against the cool window of Roy’s SUV and closed his eyes. His world was spinning out of control. There didn’t seem to be a way to make it stop or even slow down. “Did you tell him you were going to smash his ugly face into the wall?” After Joe shook his head and merely claimed that he’d thought about it, Adam gave him a limp smile. “Well, only Pa can hold intentions over our heads. The law is rather weak on that subject unless we actually said it or did it.”<\/p>\n “We?” He looked at Adam as he spoke and saw the glint in his brother’s eyes.<\/p>\n “You think you’re the only one who wants a chunk of Grissom for what he’s done? Think again. You just got here sooner.”<\/p>\n Both Cartwrights watched quietly as the parking lot suddenly filled with police cars, lights flashing and sirens wailing. With them came two mobile TV broadcast vans. They all converged on the corner, at Grissom’s front door, brightly lighting up the area. Adam and Joe stayed in the protective shadow of Roy’s SUV, away from the searching spotlights and anxious police and scurrying sheriff’s deputies. Suddenly, in the center of the melee, Roy Coffee emerged. Before him he shoved a hand-cuffed Grissom. Grissom ducked his head and looked away from the lights. Roy waved away TV reporters, their cameramen and their questions. He did direct one of his deputies to keep anyone from entering the offices until the crime scene investigators showed up. So that anyone could hear, he said loudly, “They’ll need to have a good look at the papers Grissom was in the process of shredding. Got a feeling ’bout them.” He handed Grissom over to one of the State Police present and directed him – loud enough once again to be heard clearly by all – “Take him down to the County lock up. Start processing him. I’ll be down directly.”<\/p>\n When pressed by a TV news reporter about what the charges would be, the old sheriff hid a smile behind his hand as he smoothed his mustache down. “There’ll be a passel. You can follow this trooper to find out.”<\/p>\n As quickly as they had come, they all left with only the two Cartwright brothers and the sheriff remaining. The near-silence of the night was overwhelming.<\/p>\n “Joe,” Coffee began but had to study the ground at his feet momentarily before he could continue. “By all rights, I ought to handcuff you, throw you in the back of my truck and haul your sorry butt down to County as well.” Joe grimaced and reached for the door handle but the sheriff stopped him. “I said that I ought to. Didn’t say I was. Got a call while I was in there with Mister Grissom. ‘Parently, your pa has been frantically looking for the two of you for some little while. Seems your cell phones ain’t been ringing loud enough for you to hear. Now I know you don’t want to, but you need to go to the hospital. Seems the decision has made to turn things off and let Nature take her way with your brother. You both need to be there. Adam, I understand that Paul Martin gave you some pretty specific instructions so if I arrest Joe, you can’t get to the hospital on your own. And the County is particular about casual passengers in their vehicles.” He avoided their gazes while ignoring just how Adam had gotten to where he was. “So, for the time bein’, Joseph Cartwright, I’m letting you go in the custody of your brother. And if I should call your cells, you’d both better answer! You hear?”<\/p>\n With a knowing glance, Roy detained Adam just long enough for Joe to touch the still-dangling ignition wires together and get the Jaguar started. Even though he wasn’t sure the sheriff could see it, he smiled and nodded his thanks as Adam reluctantly got into the passenger’s seat of his own car.<\/p>\n “You’d better drive carefully,” warned Adam, pushing his suddenly aching head into the seat back. “I want all of my car back – with the paint- in one piece.”<\/p>\n Ben Cartwright ran a tired hand over his face. The lines he felt there were somehow deeper than they had been just a week ago. Was it just Thursday? The accident happened Monday morning yet it seemed like more than that. He leaned over and let his head rest on the edge of the hospital bed. Tired, he was just so tired he wondered if he could stay awake much longer.<\/p>\n I have to, he thought. Roy said Adam and Joe would be here shortly. Said they’d been held up but that doesn’t make sense. Or does it? I’m too tired to puzzle it out. A distant sound from the hospital hallway made him look up. There, just on the other side of the viewing window, through the half-closed Venetian blinds, he saw faces of friends. Some, like Rosalie’s, openly displayed their grief. Others, like John Mears’, gave the world a mask of stoicism. He recognized Jenny’s back, pressed against the window so he couldn’t see her face but he could imagine it – full of hurt but also full of understanding and compassion. He wondered for a moment what his own features looked like but then brushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that he had to get through the next hour. Somehow or another, he had to make it through. He had prayed for strength – for the strength of the son he would have to….<\/p>\n He turned back to that son and once more, took up that huge hand in his own. His thoughts lashed him. One moment they slashed like ice crystals, cutting, stinging, burning with their coldness. The next moment, they were comforting memories of by-gone days. Of Hoss standing before his desk and asking to use his car to take a girl to the prom. “It wasn’t right,” he’d said, his head ducking while his fingers traced patterns on the desk-top, “to make a girl in a long dress try to get into m’ truck.” Of Hoss – so full of pride in his accomplishment – joyously laughing as he dusted himself off after dropping his first calf to its side for branding. The calf and Hoss had wound up in a pile at Ben’s feet and Ben had teased Hoss that he would brand the next thing that moved. Of Hoss, tears running down his face as he buried an old dog he’d accidentally hit with his truck.<\/p>\n “Such depth to your compassion, son,” Ben whispered. “Strength, too. I can’t help but wonder what you would do in this case. Am I doing what you would? I believe I am. But that doesn’t make it any easier. It’s one thing to talk about it but something else to tell Paul Martin to pull that plug. It’s almost like I am putting you to death, son.” His grief roiled to the surface and tears spilled over once more, pattering their joined hands. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.”<\/p>\n He never heard them enter the room but they were there; Adam’s solid presence held him on one side, Joe’s on the other, his hand resting lightly on his father’s shoulder. Ben closed his eyes and let the simple fact that they were all together sustain him. He was walking on the fine edge of brittle ice emotionally. One slip and he would lose his footing and slide into the waiting crevasse of overwhelming sorrow. He’d been there before. His sons had drawn him back then but this time, there would be one less. And this crevasse would be harder to escape because it would take his sons as well. It would also give credence to Ben’s greatest fear: that he would be left alone.<\/p>\n “We aren’t met to survive our children, are we?” asked a soft voice from the doorway. The man, haloed by the brighter hallway lighting, remained there. Ben didn’t recognize him, couldn’t because his face remained shadowed and Ben didn’t know anyone who normally dressed as this man did- a long dark cloak-like garment. A priest, perhaps?<\/p>\n “No,” Ben answered, his voice a strained whisper that he wasn’t sure the others heard. “I never thought….” He couldn’t even say the words; they died in his throat.<\/p>\n “And certainly not like this either,” the priest – for Ben was sure that was what he was- said. His hands were now spread before him, their paleness emphasizing the darkness of his clothing. “It is a terrible choice, is it not? To let him continue in this shadow world – neither alive nor dead. Or to let him slip away by simply turning off a machine.”<\/p>\n Ben didn’t hear an upturn in the soft words so he took it all as fact, not query. “It is. And to have to make the decision…I know what Hoss would say. I can hear him. ‘It’s okay, Pa. You always taught me to never let a living thing suffer needlessly.’ But this isn’t an animal, a deer or the like. It’s a person. It’s my son.”<\/p>\n “He always followed your teachings, didn’t he? When he hunted, he was careful and took sure aim on his target. Even when you butchered a cow for meat . . . Hoss was compassionate but not to the point where it stopped him from doing what he knew in his heart to be right.”<\/p>\n “…knew in his heart to be right. So easy to say but not so easy for another to know. I can’t let him go. I can’t. ” Ben’s breathing quivered, caught once then smoothed out in a long sigh.<\/p>\n “It is a supreme act of compassion, is it not? And an act of faith. You want to do what he would want done but yet you say you can’t. Why? You fear what his loss will do to you.”<\/p>\n “And Adam. And Joe. These boys of mine are close.” Ben forced a smile but it lingered for only a brief moment.<\/p>\n “Fear or something else? Selfishness, perhaps? ” The other scoffed and spread his arms wide. Ben caught a glimpse of something metallic in one hand. A rosary, he assumed.<\/p>\n “If I could be sure,” Ben began and looked at Hoss’ face – void of all expression, so unlike him. No, he’d sought assurance there many times in the last few days but never found it.<\/p>\n “If Noah had waited for a sign to send out the dove, where would we be now?” the priest asked then answered his own question. “Treading water, most likely. Where is your faith, Ben Cartwright? Would you deny your son peace?”<\/p>\n His head jerked up, anger pushing him but Ben Cartwright saw no one in the doorway.<\/p>\n And Adam and Joe were not beside him.<\/p>\n “Ben?” Paul Martin asked worriedly. He really wasn’t overly concerned that he’d found his oldest friend asleep, his head resting on the side of the hospital bed. The past few days had been hard on everyone – the father especially, Paul knew. But what did concern him was that Ben had to be shaken awake. Was this a presage to something more serious? The physician was aware that stress like the Cartwrights were undergoing could cause heart attacks and Ben was no spring chicken, to be sure. But still, he was in otherwise good health. Wasn’t he? Just to be on the safe side, Paul let Ben come to his senses gradually, minutely scrutinized while taking his pulse. ” I just saw the boys swing into the parking lot so give them a few minutes and they’ll be here. Are you up for this?”<\/p>\n The lights brightened in the room. Paul Martin eased to the opposite side of the bed, ostensibly checking the machines there. He didn’t have to. He could have seen the display – could have known what they said without even being in the room. At Ben’s request earlier in the afternoon, the schedule had been set, the act put into motion. First had come the not-so-obvious – the cessation of medications induced into the big man’s system. The intravenous needle had been removed. Everything else would wait. . . for the removal of the breathing tube … for the last instruction. . . for the very end. He’d been part of it before and as a physician, knew that it was for everyone’s best. As the man, especially now, it was different. Even as he heard the other two brothers enter the room and approach their father, he prayed one last time for a miracle.<\/p>\n The three Cartwrights stood silently, a triangle of sadness. Instinct took Ben over and he put an arm across each son’s shoulders, bringing them closer to him. He didn’t have to see their faces; he knew what he would find there.<\/p>\n “You boys want a few minutes with him alone?” asked the doctor softly.<\/p>\n It took but one traded glance between the brothers to say it all. Adam shook his head but it was Joe who spoke up.<\/p>\n “We talked about it on the way here. In our own way, we’ve said . . . all that we need to.” Left unsaid was that they could not and would not take a moment, a split second even, away from their father. To do what had to be done required the strength of all – together.<\/p>\n Ben resumed his place where he’d spent so much time recently – beside his son’s bed, holding his hand ffor what he knew to be the last time. Adam took his place beside him, shoulders touching. He looked into his brother’s bland features, no longer trying to will the blue eyes to open. Joe stood at the foot of the bed, his knuckles white on the metal footboard, his head bowed.<\/p>\n Paul waited. It came so quickly, he almost missed it. A nod from Ben that was echoed by Adam and then Joe. His hand trembled as he reached for the switch that would stop the steady compressions that had sent air into and out of Hoss’ body. He couldn’t help himself; he closed his eyes and prayed one last time for a miracle as his fingers flipped the switch. Beside his head, he could hear the heart monitor’s steady rhythm. Soon, he knew that the bouncing line would flatten out, a strident hum would replace the beeps and he would turn off the monitor. There would be nothing left to monitor. That he couldn’t watch. Not this time.<\/p>\n He waited. All other sound left the room except for that of the regular beeps of the monitor. Strangled tears coursing down faces make no sound. Breaking hearts are mute. Bleeding souls are silent.<\/p>\n At first, the good doctor thought it was a final, involuntary motion beneath his hand on Hoss’ chest. It rose and fell slightly. Paul reached automatically for his stethoscope then stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to lift it from his jacket pocket. Instead, he did the same thing Adam did – let his hand continue to rest on the big man’s chest. Again, it rose slightly then fell but this time slower than before. He looked across the bed and found Adam’s confused eyes searching for him.<\/p>\n Again and again, Hoss’ chest rose and fell. The heart monitor continued softly beeping a steady rhythm. Martin shook his head slowly, warning that Adam should say and do nothing. He knew that sometimes it took a few moments for the end to truly come and his locked gaze with the eldest Cartwright son silently begging him to take no action. Yet the chest beneath his hand rose and fell.<\/p>\n Into the room came a soft breathy sound. A sigh almost – certain to be heard in places like this but swiftly traded looks said none of them had made the noise. Once more the chest rose and fell and Paul gave it his full attention.<\/p>\n It was then that Hoss Cartwright whispered what sounded like “Pa?”. His lips barely moved but his eyes fluttered open for just a brief moment before he closed them again, screwed his face around as if he had bitten into something sour then relaxed again, pushing his shoulders into the unyielding mattress.<\/p>\n Not a man there needed to be told. Instinct told them.<\/p>\n Hoss Cartwright was alive.<\/p>\n And seemed destined to stay that way.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t a normal Friday morning. That much was certain. Nay, far from it yet even as Adam Cartwright wiped the sleep from his eyes and stretched out still-tired muscles, he knew it would be a good day. A glance at his alarm clock told him that he\u2019d had all of about three hours worth of sleep. He would pay for it, but for right now, life was good.<\/p>\n Downstairs, he slipped into his accustomed place at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. Overhead, he heard noises he associated with Joe getting up. He smiled into his cup. Little brother has some repairs to make to my car this morning. I\u2019ll go along and pretend that I didn\u2019t see that he\u2019d hot-wired the Jag\u2014as long as he gets it fixed this morning!<\/p>\n \u201cYou must be feeling pretty good this morning to have that sort of smile on your face,\u201d Ben commented from his end of the table. Indeed, it seemed like a long time ago that anyone in the family had smiled. That is until last night when Hoss had come out of his coma then asked for his father. The real smiles had come about two hours later when he had awoke fully and questioned why everyone was standing around looking worried.<\/p>\n Adam let the smile stay if only for his father\u2019s peace of mind. He didn\u2019t need to know what it was about, just that it was there. He even tweaked it a bit off to one side as he put his coffee down.<\/p>\n \u201cGot to admit that getting in at four in the morning isn\u2019t what it used to be,\u201d Adam grudgingly admitted.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re not going in to the office today, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have to, Pa. It\u2019s Friday; it\u2019s payday. We\u2019ve told the crew that had been out at hotel to be there at noon to pick up their checks. Joe and I have to decide who we can keep, what project to put them on if we do keep them, and what about the men we have to let go.\u201d He absently picked at the scrambled eggs Hop Sing put in front of him.<\/p>\n Ben huffed once and turned his attention to buttering his toast. \u201cHow many men are we going to lose? You know, we let them go now \u2013 in the height of the construction season \u2013 and we may never get them back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, Pa.\u201d There was a heat in those words that Adam instantly regretted. His slumped shoulders said as much. \u201cWe just don\u2019t have the financial wherewithal to keep men on the payroll without an income producing project. I\u2019ll try to find as many places on other projects but we just don\u2019t have that much right now.\u201d He hated the sound of his own voice saying those words. There was an ugly whining, making-excuses sound to it that he wouldn\u2019t tolerate in another. Yet there it was. The words were said and he couldn\u2019t take them back.<\/p>\n \u201cI wasn\u2019t chastising you, son. Just stating a fact and asking for information. Now, let\u2019s try it again. How many men are we going to lose off the payroll?\u201d<\/p>\n Their discussion continued right through Joe\u2019s appearance at the table. He was most of the way through his eggs and bacon before his father even acknowledged his \u2018good morning, Pa.\u2019 He listened, not adding his thoughts to the mix. Later on, in the office with the payroll roster in front of him, he would make up his mind who would go where and who would leave. After all, he silently reasoned, his main function was to run the crews so it would be his final say-so. Wouldn\u2019t it? He\u2019d let his father and brother thrash things around here at the table, feeling that it was just their way of keeping in touch with the actual business of Cartwright and Sons Construction. He knew better.<\/p>\n \u201cYou about done with breakfast?\u201d Adam asked, pulling Joe out of his own private thoughts. \u201cPaul catch me driving this morning and he\u2019ll have a fit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo?\u201d mumbled Joe around the corner of his last slice of toast.<\/p>\n \u201cI need to go into the office. And I need to keep an afternoon appointment with the good doctor so I can get back to living my life behind the steering wheel of my own car. And I need \u2013 much as I hate to admit it \u2013 I need you to drive me.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe gave his eldest brother a tight smile and said he\u2019d be back as soon as he brushed his teeth so Adam had best be ready. With that, he was up the stairs, taking them two at a time.<\/p>\n \u201cAdam?\u201d Ben\u2019s deep voice, now softened, stopped him as he also made to leave the table. \u201cYou\u2019re being rather magnanimous with Joseph driving the Grape. Don\u2019t tell me that you\u2019ve turned over a new leaf in that regard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Pa, I haven\u2019t,\u201d he admitted then with a coy smile dancing on and off his lips, continued. \u201cJoe had to hotwire the car the day of the hotel\u2019s collapse. It takes a key to put the ignition back together and I haven\u2019t given him mine. His keys \u2013until last night- were lost in the hotel debris. And he thinks I don\u2019t know that he has a Jag ignition key on his key ring. And he also doesn\u2019t know that I know about the hotwiring. So \u2013 for now, at least- I\u2019ll play the invalid and let him drive me places but he\u2019d better get it fixed and pronto!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOr else?\u201d Ben also smiled, enjoying seeing the lighter side of his son.<\/p>\n \u201cHaven\u2019t figured that out yet.\u201d<\/p>\n The morning went pretty much as the two Cartwright brothers had thought that it would \u2013 in heated discussion. It started in Joe\u2019s office then transferred to Adam\u2019s when he threw his hands into the air in disgust and stomped out of Joe\u2019s, leaving Jenny shaking her head. Joe didn\u2019t bother to close Adam\u2019s door in an attempt to muffle their voices. Rosalie closed it for them. Two minutes later, Joe yanked it open and stormed down the short hallway and sat behind his old table-desk with his booted feet crossed on its scarred top. Jenny decided it was time for a coffeebreak , nearly getting run over by an irate Adam in the process.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t think they\u2019ll come to blows,\u201d Jenny whispered to Rosalie. \u201cBut just in case, you do know how to use the fire extinguisher, don\u2019t you? Just aim it at their legs and give \u2018em a blast. Works every time with Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut what about Adam?\u201d asked Rosalie.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re on your own with him. If you haven\u2019t figured out how to handle your boss by now, there\u2019s not much I can do to help you.\u201d<\/p>\n At eleven o\u2019clock Lisa , the payroll clerk, brought up a pile of pay checks for Adam\u2019s signature. Rosalie stopped her and took them.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t want to go in there. Trust me,\u201d she warned and Lisa paled, mumbled something about Rosalie being a stronger woman and went back to the elevator. She made it before the doors closed.<\/p>\n Rosalie sorted through the checks, making two piles. She picked up one and took it down the hall to Joe. With a bright smile and a knowing wink, she left them with the flat statement that she needed them back in fifteen minutes. She did the same with the other stack, taking them to Adam with the same warning. When the two brothers met in the hallway at the appointed time and both carrying stacks of paychecks, they said nothing to one another.<\/p>\n Adam, though, stopped at his door. \u201cJoe?\u201d he called out and his brother paused at his door. \u201cYou were right\u2026this time. Keep whoever-\u201c<\/p>\n Joe cut in quickly with a sly smile. \u201cI already did.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis time\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis time.\u201d Even though he asked why, she wouldn\u2019t say. She just nodded towards the elevator as Joe and Jenny got into it for the short ride down.<\/p>\n The lobby of the building that housed Cartwright and Sons Construction was a masterpiece of granite, red sandstone and floor-to-ceiling glass. That noon it was full of people \u2013 people that Adam recognized as being their employees \u2013from both the field and the office-but there were also some others. John Mears, their attorney, was there. So was Roy Coffee. Les McCutheon, the business agent for the electricians\u2019 union was chatting with Bill Barnett, his counterpart with the laborer\u2019s union. Charlie Grey Eagle \u2013 the highest ranking man in the Northern Paiute Reservation \u2013 was there. Even Hop Sing was there with two elderly Oriental gentlemen that Adam didn\u2019t know. The two Cartwright brothers looked at each other, perplexed.<\/p>\n It was Mears that stepped forward and asked for everyone\u2019s attention. When everyone had quieted down, he went on. \u201cSome of you have an idea why we\u2019re here today. Others don\u2019t, so I\u2019m gonna fill you all in. It all started with a dream. Not mine. His.\u201d The lawyer nodded to Adam. \u201cBut the funny thing about this dream is that other folks had it too. And unlike other dreams, this one grew. It blossomed right underneath our noses. It was a dream that plenty of you out there had a part in making real. With your sweat, your hands, your muscle, you made it real. But all of us had a part in it. And when one man\u2019s greed got the better of him and he destroyed it, we all cried. We cried because something that we knew was good and beautiful and right was gone. I\u2019m talking about that beautiful, elegant, soaring piece of architecture on Lake Tahoe. It died before it got a real name and to call it by the name of man who destroyed it is repugnant to me so I\u2019m not going to.\u201d He shoved his hands into his pockets and began to pace.<\/p>\n \u201cI drove by there the other night,\u201d he continued. \u201cIt made me sick to see it like that-all piles of debris. Probably about like it has some of you who\u2019ve seen it. I wasn\u2019t sure what I could do about it but then I had that dream again. In it, I saw it rise again but this time with a new purpose. Not one of greed. Not of self-centered aggrandizement, either. No, this time it was pride. Not just mine. Not just for Adam Cartwright who conceived of this\u2014this dream. No, the new purpose was \u2013 I\u2019m not sure how to explain it but the purpose I saw in it was community. Does that make sense?\u201d<\/p>\n A murmur went through the listeners, telling Mears that he had struck a nerve. Utilizing his courtroom theatrics, he went on. \u201cThat\u2019s when the plan came to me, full grown. We need to rebuild that hotel.\u201d<\/p>\n Off to the side, Joe and Adam traded half-frightened, half- confused glances. The attorney turned to them and smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, boys,\u201d he addressed them casually. \u201cWe need to rebuild it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow?\u201d Adam choked out the one word.<\/p>\n \u201cBy community participation. I sat down and drew up a plan \u2013 call it a contract if you like. It says that you \u2013 each and every one of you present here today \u2013 will help. The trade unions are signed on, Adam. That is provided they can use the experience to teach some of their younger members. Jim Lockyear, head of Douglas County school district said he thought the tri-county area schools would help provide some muscle, too. Again, using it as a training ground. \u201c<\/p>\n Charlie Grey Eagle was nodding his head and smiling. \u201cMany of my people will also want to help as well.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam had finally heard enough and stepped forward, his hands raised. \u201cThis is all well and good, but we can\u2019t pay wages- much less buy the materials -\u201c<\/p>\n Mears cut him off. \u201cThat\u2019s where the next step of the plan comes into play. And this is a leap of faith we all need to make together or the whole shebang falls apart. Jenny? You here? Step up here and tell them what we talked over.\u201d<\/p>\n Pulling her sweater closer around her hips, Jenny moved forward. She blinked hard and cleared her throat. \u201cWe need,\u201d she began and her voice faltered. She bit her lip then took a deep breath and began again. \u201cWe\u2019re going to form a corporation. You buy into it like you would by shares of stock. Right off the bat we\u2019re gonna need about half a million dollars. I know. That sounds like big money to all of us. Well , maybe not to John here. Everybody knows lawyers are rich folks.\u201d<\/p>\n A laugh went around the crowd.<\/p>\n \u201cBut I\u2019ve seen it happen before. A little bit here, a little it there and before you know it, we\u2019d have that much. To show you all how much faith I have in this venture, I\u2019m promising twenty percent of my paycheck every week to the project. And I\u2019ll take care of the book-keeping free of charge so I can promise you that not a nickel will go to waste.\u201d<\/p>\n Now it was a murmur that went around. Jenny glanced over her shoulder and caught the hint of a smile on Adam\u2019s face. It gave her courage to go on.<\/p>\n \u201cI can tell that some of you are thinking that you don\u2019t have enough money right now to make ends meet but that you want in on this. Here\u2019s how you do it \u2013 \u2018specially you electricians, and masons and trade-boys. You promise in writing that you\u2019ll work gratis on weekends, holidays and whatever free time you can get. We\u2019ll keep track of your hours and figure out your percentage of ownership that a way. With the young\u2019uns on the project, you\u2019ll have a chance to teach them your trade so they can follow in your footsteps the right way.\u201d<\/p>\n One hand raised in the back and Mears acknowledged it before anyone could make a move. It was one of the accounting department bean-counters.<\/p>\n \u201cI get that we\u2019re building a hotel but I have two questions. First, are we gonna be shareholders in a for-profit venture?\u201d<\/p>\n John Mears took over from a relieved Jenny. \u201cYes and no. Because we are using some community resources, this is going to be more than a hotel and restaurant like the original plans called for. Correct me if I\u2019m wrong, Adam, but some of it can be converted for community-based use. Like a large room for meetings. That pool \u2013 the Parks and Rec folks could teach youngsters to swim there. And staff? I\u2019ve got a plan for that too. Talked with the Home Ec Department of the University of Nevada at Reno. Seems they need a place for interns \u2013 cooks, hotel management majors. If we turn a dollar\u2019s profit, that\u2019s good but our real profit will be what we can give to this community. That satisfy you?\u201d The nodding heads said that it did. \u201cSo what was your other question?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoesn\u2019t Grissom still own the property? Will we be buying it from him? Hate to say it but my stomach turns at the thought of that man making a dime off of this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think getting that property is going to be any problem. Especially after the civil law suit the Cartwrights will bring against him.\u201d<\/p>\n The attorney smiled broadly after Adam\u2019s words but it was Roy Coffee who spoke up. \u201cRight now, Mister Grissom is looking at a whole slew of serious charges that I don\u2019t think the District Attorney is going to have trouble making stick. One of them is a little something called insurance fraud \u2013 that\u2019s what they call it when you blow up your own property and try to collect on it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWait a minute!\u201d Rosalie shouted, her eyes wide with surprise. \u201cThe insurance wasn\u2019t in Grissom\u2019s name! I mean, not yet it wasn\u2019t!\u201d When she saw the confusion around her, she held up her hands for quiet. \u201cThe exchange was ordered, yes, taking it from Cartwright and Sons to Grissom but it wasn\u2019t set to take affect until midnight. Monday night midnight! We can collect on that policy \u2013 to the tune of eight million dollars!\u201d<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s legs wouldn\u2019t hold him up any longer and he slid to floor, his back against the cool granite wall. Pandemonium broke out so loud that he couldn\u2019t hear what Adam was saying to him but he took the proffered hand and got back up \u2013 albeit shakily.<\/p>\n Adam leaned into his brother and spoke directly into his ear. \u201cGrissom screwed himself!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd how!\u201d agreed Joe.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s enough to buy a lot of materials, lumber \u2026and glass. What do you think?\u201d Mears asked the brothers when things calmed down.<\/p>\n \u201cSpeaking for Cartwright and Sons, we\u2019re in!\u201d<\/p>\n Tears glistened in Jenny\u2019s eyes but her jaw stayed firm as she looked over the gathering once more. \u201cJoe? \u201cshe called out to him, catching him off-guard. \u201cWhere\u2019s my pay check? Roy! Give me your hat.\u201d The surprised sheriff did as she asked and when Joe handed her the envelope, she put it into the battered Stetson. \u201cWell? What\u2019s holding back the rest of you? Rosalie! Spread that contract out on that bench over there. If you want in on this, sign it. Tell us what you want to throw into the kitty \u2013 how much of this grand miracle you can tell your grandchildren you were responsible for.\u201d A year to the day after the first building had crumbled to the ground, the new one was set to be opened. Across the lobby doors stretched a broad iridescent blue ribbon. As befitted the way the building had risen, the community had come together to welcome it into their midst but first formalities were to be met.<\/p>\n Standing there looking up at the soaring glass-front, Adam felt his heart swell with pride. Deservedly so, as the building behind him had last week been awarded the prestigious and coveted Building of the Year Award from the American Architecture Association. Never mind that it had been designed by the Firm of the Year too. A wellspring of applause hit him as he was introduced to the gathering.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to keep this brief,\u201d he promised, only to have the crowd chuckle. \u201cI remember a year ago what happened here. A lot of you were here that day. Even though no one was killed, we had some \u2013 my own brother Hoss one of them \u2013 who were injured. Today, I am glad that I can look out over this crowd and see those same faces.\u201d He turned, nodded and smiled at Hoss who stood off to one side. \u201cJust like it wasn\u2019t easy for Hoss to come back here, he did and worked-\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cJoe made me! Made me clean mortar off the field stones for the fireplace so we could reuse \u2018em!\u201d Hoss piped up but there was no heat in his words. It had been his brother\u2019s prescribed physical therapy that had helped him return to health. Everyone present knew it, too. They\u2019d seen him, clumsy at first, a small hammer nearly lost in huge hand, as he pecked away at the stones to remove the old coarse grainy mortar that had once held them all together to form the field stone fireplace that was the centerpiece of the hotel lobby. But he had persevered and over the winter, as his brain and body healed, the clumsiness left and his genial spirits returned. Eventually, he\u2019d enjoyed coming to the project to work.<\/p>\n \u201cLike I said, it wasn\u2019t easy, but we did it. All of us. Working together. From the Electricians\u2019 Union to the Northern Paiute High Council. From the Crystal Bay Quilters\u2019 Guild who brought lunch up every Saturday \u2013 and I don\u2019t want to know what you promised them, Joe!- to the doctors and nurses at Tahoe Carson Hospital who learned how to hang wall paper the right way. When John Mears talked about this project the first time, a part of me thought he was nuts but he said the right thing: this was a community dream. And the community made it happen. So now, without any more speeches \u2013\u201c He turned and took the oversized scissors from the podium and handed them to Hoss.<\/p>\n \u201cCut the ribbon, Brother.\u201d<\/p>\n The crowd pressed inside, anxious to see the finished project. It had all of the original splendor but now was blessed with a sense of community \u2013 from the quilts artfully displayed on the walls and draped over the backs of the immense sofas to the small bronze plaque set into the side of the fireplace. While it listed the many organizations who\u2019d had a hand in the construction, Cartwright and Sons Construction was not there. No, one Cartwright name there and the building was dedicated to him with the simple words \u201c This building is dedicated to Eric \u201cHoss\u201d Cartwright. His strength and perseverance showed us the way.\u201d<\/p>\n Later that same evening, the celebrations long over and the dinner speeches now history, Adam Cartwright poured two glasses of brandy and carried them upstairs to his brother\u2019s bedroom. Joe had just stepped from the shower and dressed only in jeans, was toweling his hair dry.<\/p>\n \u201cHere,\u201d Adam offered, nudging his brother\u2019s arm with a glass.<\/p>\n With caution, Joe took it. An eyebrow lifted, asking what Adam had in mind.<\/p>\n The eldest Cartwright brother\u2019s grimace became a tight smile. \u201cTo the one who really made that dream happen.\u201d<\/p>\n They touched glasses and both sipped the fiery spirits.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m only going to say it once and only here. You repeat any of what I am about to say and I will categorically deny it.\u201d Adam\u2019s words as well as his eyes bore into Joe who waited, unsure of what was going to follow. \u201cYou hung tough from the very beginning, Joe. You ferreted out Grissom\u2019s plan. You found the proof of what he\u2019d done. More than that, what you did for Hoss, after he came home. Day after day taking him up to the project and making him work \u2013 interact with people when he didn\u2019t want to because he wasn\u2019t through healing completely. I watched you sometimes, you know. Badgering people, egging them on, cajoling them into giving more of themselves. Yourself included. I know that you\u2019ve been without most of your paycheck for a year, giving it to the project.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo have you!\u201d Joe retorted but Adam brushed it aside.<\/p>\n \u201cDoesn\u2019t matter. What does matter is that you were a huge part in making my idea become reality. And you did it twice. So\u2026.\u201d His voice went faintly husky and he cleared his throat before he finished. \u201cThank you. For giving me my dream. For making it real.\u201d<\/p>\n The words and unaccustomed sentiment hung in the air between the two as they finished the snifters of brandy. Finally Joe smiled, accepting his brother\u2019s thanks graciously if silently.<\/p>\n \u201cDoes this mean I can take the Grape to the Antique Car Rally next weekend in Vegas? \u201c Joe, ever cocky, pressed.<\/p>\n \u201cNO!\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The end<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Summary:\u00a0 A building so beautiful, so elegant, so deadly…and Cartwright and Sons Construction are to blame when it strikes, taking one of them….\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 A Cartwright’s in the 21st Century story. \u00a0<\/p>\n Rated:\u00a0 T \u00a0Word Count: 46800<\/p>\n 21st Century Cartwrights Series, links to the stories include.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":375,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_members_access_role":[],"_members_access_error":""},"categories":[7,1009,687],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6686","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-a-u","category-brothers","category-modern-day","wpcat-7-id","wpcat-1009-id","wpcat-687-id"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/coming-soon-5.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6686","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/13"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6686"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6686\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/375"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6686"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6686"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6686"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nWith a Two-edged Sword<\/a>
\nCalculated Revenge<\/a>
\nPassages<\/a>
\nWith The Best Intentions<\/a>
\nThe Art of Weaseling<\/a>
\nWith All Deliberate Purpose<\/a>
\nDeath Walked This Way Today<\/a>
\nIs This Normal?<\/a>
\nWithholding the Dream<\/a>
\nHeavenly Intervention<\/a><\/p>\n
\n“Depends on what you wanna see.” She turned her back, squatted in the dry needles and pointed upwards at a sharp angle. Adam followed her example and what he saw took his breath away. It was the last ten feet of the building’s A-pitched roof. Or rather, the leaded glass that fronted the entire structure. There, in the light of mid-morning, was reflected the turquoise of Lake Tahoe and the far distant mountain peaks.<\/p>\n
\n“I don’t understand, Adam. What happens if he don’t pay up this time? Can he still take control of the buildin’?”<\/p>\n
\nJoe answered his cell phone on the third ring and greeted his oldest brother without the benefit of a salutation. Instead it was simply that he and Jenny were over in the atrium of the new building. Then the line went dead and Adam was left to roll his eyes and leave the trailer.<\/p>\n
\n“Jenny’s running the cleaning crew up on the third floor. Said no one cleans like a woman. You gonna argue with her?” As he spoke, Joe’s sharp hearing caught the sound of Jenny giving orders to some electrician to move it or lose it. “I take that back. She’s in the kitchen.”<\/p>\n
\nAdam pushed his eyes open to see the impeccable blue of the sky marred by a streak of dark gray. Then he found Joe bending over him, anxiety mingling with outright fear in his eyes.<\/p>\n
\nThe hand on his shoulder made Joe turn quickly. He caught Adam just as his long legs gave out and Joe lowered him to the ground, his brother’s back against a now useless piece of heavy equipment. With trembling fingers, he probed the bleeding gash on Adam’s head. Over and over again, Adam was saying the same word: Hoss.<\/p>\n
\nBen Cartwright was in his home office, catching up on some long overdue correspondence when the phone call came. It was Adam’s secretary, Rosalie.<\/p>\n
\n“Anyone hurt?” he asked, already preparing a list of things to be done in his head.<\/p>\n
\n“Where are the boys? Where are they?” he all but shouted into the phone.<\/p>\n
\nHer face crumbled and she openly cried. Only then did Ben recall that she had been dating Hoss for the last six months. He gathered her to his chest and let her cry for a few moments then asked again, this time with gentleness. “What about Hoss? He was there, I know he was.”<\/p>\n
\nIn the end, Joe got behind the wheel and with muscles screaming in pain and exhaustion, wheeled the forty-year-old sports car away from the carnage. He could do nothing about the smell of fear, blood and filth he carried with them. Jenny sat slumped in the passenger seat, yet began to shiver uncontrollably as long pent up adrenaline rushed from her. Joe felt it too and it caused him to slam the car through the gears, revving the old engine unmercifully. The trip across the divide and down into Carson City would have taken them about twenty minutes but Joe made it in fifteen.<\/p>\n
\nAdam merely shook his head and gestured to the sofa across from him. He watched Joe as his brother sank carefully into it. Ben took one of the armchairs, the one with the clear view of the hallway.<\/p>\n
\n“Well, come down to the Carson office on Friday and pick up your checks. Tell others that aren’t here. You’ll all be paid for a full week’s work. Where we can, we’ll get you onto to other crews, other projects. This one,” he gestured weakly to the rubble behind him. “This one is closed down.”<\/p>\n
\n“We’ll take care of you, Jenny. You have my word on that.”<\/p>\n
\nShe dashed a hand across her face, trying to make it look like her hair was giving her trouble while she wiped tears away. “Joe Cartwright is up there with the sheriff but if you’re the press, you’d best not cross him this morning.”<\/p>\n
\nand the mishmash of news trucks still there. He’d come in the back way to avoid them and wasn’t sure he’d been completely successful.<\/p>\n
\n“Will you be serious for a minute?” his brother growled.<\/p>\n
\n“No, if he can prove that the building was worth more than what it cost to build – and he can easily do that – he can ask for whatever the insurance didn’t cover dollar-wise. And, God help us, if he can prove that it was shoddy workmanship, or a design flaw, he’ll eat us alive. And not just the construction company. The ranch, the cattle, the timber – everything, Joe. He’ll own the Ponderosa right down to the fire in the fireplace. And he can put a lien against any monies the lot of us earn until we die of old age. We have to tell Pa.”<\/p>\n
\n“I swear, if I didn’t need him right now, I’d throttle him. May anyway just on general principle. Okay, Rosalie, what do we have to go over?”<\/p>\n
\n“I read and write and speak the English language but I’ll be -” Joe faltered, thinking the word damned but deciding against using it at the last possible instant. “I’ll be cussed if I can understand half of that lawyer-talk, John.”<\/p>\n
\n“Not your father?” Mears cocked his head to one side, watching the tightly coiled spring that had a name, trying to understand the younger man’s body language.<\/p>\n
\nPaul grunted, his attention not really on the chart he held. “So what’s he in such an all fire big hurry about then?”<\/p>\n
\n“What was the favor you wanted to ask for?” Roy looked straight ahead, his tone now challenging, no longer bantering and teasing.<\/p>\n
\n“Why not? If that was you up there, he’d have to be hauled away kicking and screaming from your side. You know that!”<\/p>\n
\nAs she stood in the near-empty back parking lot she watched the powerful car muscle its way out onto the main thoroughfare. She’d lost it from view yet she could hear the distinctive guttural growl it made as it accelerated up the freeway on-ramp. Her mind filled in everything else; the feel of the car shifting smoothly as it gained speed, the pull of gravity as it hugged the curve at the top of the grade. . . then it was gone. No, not quite all of the experience was gone. What remained with her was the desperate sorrow she’d felt from him.<\/p>\n
\n“I know that he’s an organ donor, Paul. Does that say anything?” Abruptly Ben stood, tearing his hand away from his son’s flesh as if it were burning him, damning him. Two angry paces took him to the window, the sun light, the world outside, life. “A while back I had a long conversation with Joseph about mercy killings. I can remember my words just as clear as if I’d said them a minute ago. About how the body fights with everything it has, trying to live even though the damage to it may be horrific. I believed it. Deep in my soul I believed what I was telling him and trying to convince him of the same.”<\/p>\n
\nThe hairbrush hit the sink counter top with a loud bang. Joe’s temper, ever close to the surface, came racing to the fore. “How about sabotage? Grissom is my prime candidate. He’s had money trouble with that project from the get-go. He blew it up for the insurance; I know he did!”<\/p>\n
\n“There. That should keep it clean until Paul sees it. And he will see it tomorrow, won’t he?” Playfully, Ben tapped his son’s back, hoping for an affirmative answer.<\/p>\n
\nHop Sing snorted. “If you count two PopTarts as breakfast.”<\/p>\n
\nJenny followed his motion and raised her hand to the glass, letting it come to rest beside his. “You haven’t been to see him, I gather.” She paused, let him whisper that he couldn’t just yet, then continued. “I understand, Joe. Even if they let me, I don’t think I could go see him. Like you, I feel kind of responsible for what’s happened.” Again she paused, but this time, she turned to look up at him. “Like you, I can’t face what’s happened without knowing why. Silly, isn’t it?”<\/p>\n
\nShe eyed him carefully. By every organization chart she’d ever drawn up for Cartwright and Sons Construction, he was a boss – Vice President in Charge of Project Management or some such grand title like that. She’d known him since junior high when he was two grades behind her and could remember him as a budding – but give him credit, not a bumbling- Don Juan. She had trouble thinking of him as someone with the capability of firing her on the spot. So, as she stood there trying to make up her mind to do as she’d been asked, he did what she hated him the most for: he turned on his boyish charm, smiled at her, and asked her again, saying please twice.<\/p>\n
\nThe photographer’s shop was off the beaten track. The sharp tang of some chemical hit Joe’s nose and made him wince as he stepped through the battered front door. A bell chimed faintly, announcing his presence, but no one came to greet him. He cleared his throat noisily and called out a cautious hello.<\/p>\n
\nRosalie took one look and scurried from the room. Her own features were suddenly pulled tight with fear. She left so quickly that she didn’t even bother to try and close the door. Jenny, on the other hand, settled her arthritic hands flat to the desk top and leaned on her braced arms.<\/p>\n
\nShe gave him a stern-eyed once over, the doctor in her taking over and hardly believing him. “That would be all you’d need. One good sneeze and you could find yourself right back here, you know. And what are you doing here? I thought Paul Martin released you this morning.”<\/p>\n
\n“Simple” was her response. “He’s made it this far. There is no one who is going to give up on him. Not a nurse out there. Not a doctor. No one! Do you hear me, Adam? No one.” To underscore her point, the grip on his arm tightened and shook it emphatically. “And he needs to know that you’re fighting for him, too. All of you.”<\/p>\n
\n“See?” Alex whispered, putting her own hand over their joined ones. “This is how you fight for him. Just like this.”<\/p>\n
\n“How soon is soon? I need Adam and Joe. Need to talk with them. They need to be here. . . with…us.” He couldn’t believe he was saying those things. Some other entity had taken over Ben Cartwright. A firm, stoic, practical man was talking while inside a father’s grief tore at his soul, grinding and crushing his spirit. He heard the words Paul Martin was saying about papers to sign and how things would go quickly after that.<\/p>\n
\n“Doctor Conover said she was taking him home!” she shouted back. The one word reply she got was muffled but she had heard enough of it before the line went dead. Slowly she hung up the phone.<\/p>\n
\n“Maybe he’s taking it apart. He’s already done what he wanted to do,” was Rosalie’s swift reply.
\n“He’d come to blow up the hotel and he’s done it so now-” Her finger jabbed in the direction of the photo.” -he has to dismantle it and get the evidence out of there.”<\/p>\n
\n“But wouldn’t someone have seen a line run into the wall?” Roy’s question stopped them cold.<\/p>\n
\nWith a jerk of his head back toward the wreckage, he spoke in a voice so low that only Joe could hear him.\u00a0 “It’s all gone. Nothing?s left. I was a fool to think that. ” He paused, feeling his gut tremble.<\/p>\n
\nThe distinctive tail lights flashed red for just a heartbeat then the engine revved higher before all that Adam Cartwright could see of his car – and his brother – disappeared from sight. He smacked his own thigh and swore softly. Not only had Joe beaten them down the mountain, he?d managed to escape completely.<\/p>\n
\nShe shook her head. ?Yes,? she countered and pushed at him. ?Your face is pale; you?re shaky and cold. Go lay down. This is your doctor talking.?<\/p>\n
\nIt felt good ? the wind whipping into his face from the open window. He closed his eyes and let his head loll back on the headrest, glad he could trust Roy?s ability to not only drive but to handle this lead into a potentially ugly situation. Adam had glimpsed the older man?s set features, highlighted by the dash lights of the SUV. The man was all business. He barked orders into his radio as he steered past dawdling tourists, wending his way through moderate traffic with ease.<\/p>\n
\nRoy leaned on his horn, adding it to the cacophony of lights and sirens and muttered something derogatory about it being tourist season. ?So you think that was his plan from the beginning? Take the ranch??<\/p>\n
\nUsing the back of his shirt, Adam pulled Joe up and away. Once standing, he threw one arm around his brother’s chest, holding him in place with his back to him and his arms locked down at his sides. He could feel the adrenaline still pulsing through Joe’s body.<\/p>\n
\nAgain, Adam nodded. “That is what Grissom is after. We see the Ponderosa as home, a place to get away from the rest of the world. He sees it as money – lots and lots of it. And if we can’t prove otherwise about the hotel, he’ll have it. He’ll take it from us just as easy as taking candy from sleeping baby, Joe.”<\/p>\n
\n“I played right into his hands, didn’t I? Coming down here, threatening to smash his ugly face into a wall…” His words, soft and barely discernible, made Adam rueful.<\/p>\n
\nIt was pressing noon when Rosalie stepped into Adam\u2019s office. He\u2019d been turned in his chair looking out the window behind his desk. \u201cGot a few minutes?\u201d she asked, catching his attention. To her, he looked tired, worn\u2026and sad. \u201cWe need to go down to the lobby for a brief meeting.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nEpilogue<\/p>\n