{"id":69963,"date":"2026-09-21T11:34:59","date_gmt":"2026-09-21T15:34:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=69963"},"modified":"2026-09-21T11:34:59","modified_gmt":"2026-09-21T15:34:59","slug":"the-patriot-game-by-patd-in-pa","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=69963","title":{"rendered":"The Patriot Game (by PatD in PA)"},"content":{"rendered":"

CHAPTER ONE<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I’m not going!”<\/p>\n

“Oh, yes, you are!”<\/p>\n

Joe Cartwright winced slightly then grinned to himself as he lounged on the front porch, waiting for supper to be called and avoiding the great room of the Ponderosa’s ranch house. He giggled and leaned back again in his chair, tipping it back a bit, resting on the two back legs. War had once again been declared on the Ponderosa, and he was making sure he was on the perimeter of the skirmishes. He was still young enough, at nearly twenty-four, to remember when he’d been on the receiving end of a lecture and was enjoying the freedom of hearing someone else chewed out for a change!<\/p>\n

He remembered a similar battle a few years back, one involving Pa, Adam and windmills. That time, Adam had won. He had a feeling Adam\u2019s winning streak wasn\u2019t going to break, at least not on something that mattered as much to him as education.<\/p>\n

“I don’t care what ya say! I ain\u2019t goin\u2019!”<\/p>\n

“You keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re speaking to me, young man!”<\/p>\n

Joe giggled again, shaking his head in amazement. You’d think his young nephew would learn. Fighting and arguing with Adam Cartwright wasn’t going to get him anywhere but sent to his room, and that was if he was lucky; Joe oughta know. When he was a youngster, Adam had been more like a second father than an older brother, and Joe had had his share of talking-tos from Adam. His oldest brother\u2019s sharp words and cutting comments sometimes hurt as much as Pa’s infrequent but memorable tannings. There was nobody that could make a body feel more ashamed of himself than Adam when he was really wound up. As it was, with every angry retort Patrick was dunking himself deeper and deeper into water so hot he’d likely scald himself.<\/p>\n

Joe allowed the chair to fall a little forward, frowning a moment as he listening, shivering a bit in the late February cold. He raised his head at the sound of pounding hoof beats, then grinned as he saw his father riding into the yard.<\/p>\n

Ben Cartwright, patriarch of the Cartwright clan, dismounted his buckskin and drew his coat closer around his shoulders. Though in his late fifties, Ben was still a handsome, rugged, vibrant man, his hair luxuriant and now totally silver. He stared, curiously at his son, reins still in his hand.<\/p>\n

“What in the world are you doing sitting out here in the cold?” he asked, surprised, studying his youngest son.<\/p>\n

Before Joe could answer, Dave, their youngest ranch hand, jogged up with a smile. \u201cWant me t\u2019 put up Buck for ya, Mr. Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben hesitated; normally, he\u2019d see to his own mount, and he had always been adamant that his sons do the same. He saw Joe\u2019s impish grin, and made a stern face, shivering. Raising an eyebrow at his youngest, he set his mouth and handed over the reins. \u201cJust this once. Thanks, Dave.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo problem, sir,\u201d the boy responded cheerfully. \u201cBet you\u2019re colder\u2019n a polar bear\u2019s nose after your ride.\u201d He clicked his tongue at the horse and led him toward the barn.<\/p>\n

Ben turned back to Joe. \u201cYou never answered. Why are you-\u201d<\/p>\n

As if on cue, the angry voices started again inside, and Joe grinned at his father.<\/p>\n

Ben started as he heard a furious voice yelling, “That’s it! To your room, buster! And don’t you dare poke your nose out of it until I give you permission! Is that clear?!”<\/p>\n

Ben turned in surprise toward Joe. “What the devil’s going on in there?” he demanded, pointing toward the house.<\/p>\n

Joe shrugged, grinning. “Well, it’s either a re-enactment of Bull Run, or it’s Adam tellin’ Pat that he’s gotta start school on Monday.”[1]<\/p>\n

Ben stared at his youngest son for a moment, then sighed, shaking his head with a sad smile. “Oh, I see,” he nodded, understanding. He and Joe both listened intently for a moment, then Ben shivered and frowned. “Well, I’m not standing out here freezing to death just because my stubborn grandson is getting a well-deserved talking-to!” he declared, striding to the front door. Joe figured there was safety in numbers and followed his father in.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben’s oldest son, Adam Cartwright, stood in front of the fireplace, every bit of his body language screaming that this man was angry. Ben glanced at his rigid back and sighed as he hung up his coat and hat and laid his gun belt on the sideboard. Joe did the same, eyeing his oldest brother cautiously.<\/p>\n

Adam, a tall, handsome, black-haired man of thirty-five, was usually calm and sensible, thinking through his words and cautiously weighing the odds of his actions. But Joe knew, only too well, that when he was riled he was one hell of a force to reckon with. And ever since Adam’s young son, Patrick, arrived last summer from New York, Adam had spent an inordinate amount of time being riled.<\/p>\n

Joe’s impetuous nature had, over the years, given him first-hand knowledge of Adam in that mood, and he was determined to stay on the periphery; if Pat was reckless enough to let Adam come down on him like a duck on a June bug, let him. Joe wanted no part of it.<\/p>\n

Adam had heard the steps entering the house but was still too angry from his confrontation with his son to turn around just yet. He fought to get his temper back under control, closing his eyes in frustration. The boy is simply being unreasonable, he told himself, and it\u2019s just going to take a little time to settle him down and make him see the necessity of my decision.<\/p>\n

Adam sincerely hoped he’d be able to accomplish it by Monday.<\/p>\n

Drawing in a deep breath, Adam turned around. “Hi, Pa,” he said quietly, hands in his pockets as he walked slowly from the fireplace over to his father and youngest brother.<\/p>\n

“I take it Patrick didn’t find the news pleasant?” smiled Ben, knowingly.<\/p>\n

“Now, there’s an understatement,” sighed Adam.<\/p>\n

When Pat arrived in August of last year, a skinny, hard-nosed, closed-mouthed, defiant thirteen-year-old, it had taken nearly a month for Adam to discover that his son had never been to school, or learned to read or write. When Adam had suggested school, the boy flew off the handle, threatening to run away if his father forced him to attend. Adam had defused the situation at that time by teaching him at home.<\/p>\n

Pat proved to be a bright pupil, and Adam enjoyed his mornings and evenings of helping the boy over the hurdles of reading, writing and arithmetic. Pat certainly enjoyed learning but remained adamant about school. He wanted no part of it.<\/p>\n

The past winter had been a particularly difficult one on the Ponderosa and throughout the territory, causing more winter damage than usual to the infrastructure of the ranch, and more loss of livestock to the bitter cold and never-ending snows. Adam simply had way too much work to do with his share of maintaining the ranch to continue to teach Pat here at home. Like it or not, the boy would have to start attending school.<\/p>\n

“I don’t know, Adam,” mused Joe, “why can’t he just stay home and do his lessons here, like he did all winter long? He was doing fine.”<\/p>\n

“He was doing fine, Joe, because I was here to get him started and keep him on track,” said Adam, frowning as he leaned against the settee, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “I can’t be sure about that for the next several months. You know how much work is waiting for us out there.”<\/p>\n

“Well, that’s true enough,” sighed Joe in agreement, rubbing the back of his neck.<\/p>\n

“Besides, he’s got to go sometime, and he might as well accept it now,” said Adam, firmly.<\/p>\n

“But you did promise him he wouldn\u2019t have to go until fall,” reminded Joe, with a grin.<\/p>\n

“Do you really think another seven months is going to make a big difference in his attitude?” asked Adam, cocking an eyebrow. “No, he might as well get used to the idea now and learn to do as he’s told.”<\/p>\n

“Right,” mocked his youngest brother, only too aware of how far from reality that little statement was.<\/p>\n

Ben smiled slightly, secretly agreeing with his youngest about how well Adam\u2019s dictum would go down. Ben adored and doted on his young grandson, and was filled with pride at his intelligence, capability and kindness. But rarely had Ben ever come across a youngster as stubborn as a mule, proud as Lucifer or as loud as a braying jackass when feeling the need to voice his disapproval of a situation. Since young Pat’s arrival, he’d watched his oldest son grow as he accepted the challenges of fatherhood. The older man had a feeling that another growth spurt was coming for his eldest son.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Upstairs in his room, the adolescent challenge was stretched out on his bed on his back, his fingers laced behind his neck, fuming.<\/p>\n

Patrick Riordan Cartwright, all five feet eight inches of him, was spitting mad. His black hair was tousled, mostly from Pat running his fingers through it in frustration, and his blue eyes snapped in anger.<\/p>\n

Patrick was the spit and image of his father, from his handsome face, snubbed nose, stubborn chin and tall, strong body to his inordinately obstinate nature. This fight over school was nowhere near being over, as far as he was concerned!<\/p>\n

Restlessly, Pat got to his feet and paced. He promised! His father had promised he could spend his first year studying at home! Leave it to an Orangeman to go back on his word! As soon as he thought the angry words, the youngster faltered in his pacing and grew a bit ashamed of himself.<\/p>\n

Sighing miserably, Pat sank down onto his bed.<\/p>\n

Orangeman…he hadn’t thought of his Dad in that derogatory way in a long time, not since they’d first come to understand each other, months ago.<\/p>\n

The boy had always known he was product of a torrid college love affair between his mother, Siobhan Riordan, a beautiful, fiery Irish saloon hostess with a family history of insurrection, and Adam Cartwright, a Harvard student from far West in Utah territory. She\u2019d been barely seventeen, and he just turned twenty.<\/p>\n

Pat now knew that his father had loved his mother with all his heart and soul, wanting to bring her home as his wife, but Siobhan had, for some reason, refused to allow their happiness to take shape. The story she\u2019d put forth – that the problem rested in her Irish heritage and Adam’s English one proving too high a hurdle for Siobhan to surmount despite her intense love for him \u2013 just didn\u2019t ring true to the boy.<\/p>\n

Even learning she carried his child couldn\u2019t shake her belief that she and her college cowboy had no future together.<\/p>\n

As a result, she\u2019d run off to New York City, leaving no trail, though Adam struggled for weeks to find her. Pat learned his father had risked his college scholarship, falling into a despair that, more and more, found its outlet in excessive drinking. But finally, the tempered Cartwright steel of his resolve managed to find its way back to the surface and Adam had slowly and painfully pulled himself together.<\/p>\n

He had finished his college career with honors but came home as a different person. Over the last several months here in Nevada, Pat\u2019s uncles and his grandfather had painted a very different portrait of Adam as a carefree boy before leaving for college from the man that Pat was learning to know as his father. The fun-loving, audacious, and youthful Adam Cartwright of the past was gone, replaced by a serious, exacting and wounded one. Over the fifteen years since, Adam had managed to regain some of that spirit he’d had as a youngster, but never truly or completely. And while Adam had enjoyed the company of many women, none captivated him as Siobhan had. None came close to raising in him the passion she did.<\/p>\n

And he remained single.<\/p>\n

When Pat first met him last year, the boy had indulged the anger of abandonment and rejection he’d always felt as a child when contemplating this man, this Protestant, who was his father. His mother had always insisted that it had been her choice to leave Adam. Now Patrick found that hard to believe. It took several months of talking and listening for Adam and Patrick to find their common ground and build a mutual respect that forged an affectionate bond neither would have imagined possible at their first meeting. It had been a hard-won battle, but father and son were able to overcome their problems and disagreements and forge a strong, loving relationship.<\/p>\n

Now, lying here in his spacious bedroom \u2013 nearly as large as the entire flat he and his mother had shared in Hell\u2019s Kitchen – with his current anger and bad temper simmering over the perceived injustice, Pat still didn’t feel as though that bond was crumbling. He knew his father loved him and was only doing what he believed was best for him, but it didn’t stop him from being angry about it.<\/p>\n

His black brows knitted together in a furious scowl and the boy vowed then and there that no matter what, he wouldn’t give in on this one…<\/p>\n

Ben and Joe watched for the next three days as Adam and Patrick danced a bizarre ballet of stubborn insistence and equally obstinate refusal to comply. Adam first tried gently to make his point, then sternly, then loudly, but each attempt was met with a brick wall of resistance from his recalcitrant young son.<\/p>\n

Pat silently completed his chores, silently attended family meals, and silently made his presence and hurt feelings known through artfully contrived glares. Finally, after seventy-two hours of this nonsense, Adam had had enough.<\/p>\n

“Pat, this is going to stop, right now,” he said, after yet another attempted angry two-step to avoid coming into contact with each other in the great room. Adam firmly took his son\u2019s arm and plunked him firmly onto the settee.<\/p>\n

Pat sulked, crossing his arms over his chest, stubbornly refusing to look at his father. Adam sighed and sat himself down on the oak table directly in front of his son. “Now, I’m sorry you feel I’m being unfair but I’m afraid that’s just the way it’s going to be and you might as well accept it, because I won’t change my mind.”<\/p>\n

Patrick slowly picked his head up and glared at his father. “Yeah? Well, me neither!” he snapped, uttering his first words to his father in three days. Adam eyed him; at least he was talking again. If he could just get the boy to voice what was bothering him most about this, maybe he’d be able to get this straightened out.<\/p>\n

“Well, you’re the one that\u2019s going to suffer for it, son,” said Adam, gently. Pat harrumphed, and looked down again, but Adam saw a slight shift, as though his gentleness caused Pat to alter a bit in his resolve to be difficult.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s got you so upset about this?” asked Adam, reasonably. “You’ve worked very hard on your lessons the last few months, so you shouldn’t be far behind your classmates. In fact, in some subjects I’d venture a guess that you’ll be ahead of them. Your reading is just slightly below your class level, and that’s only because your spelling leaves a bit to be desired. But your arithmetic and other subjects are fine.”<\/p>\n

Pat dipped his head, sulking. “I just don’t wanna go,” he muttered.<\/p>\n

“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s not a good enough reason,” sighed Adam, sliding over and sitting down on the settee beside his son. He put an arm around him, just to have it angrily shaken off, as Pat struggled to rise off the settee. “I’m not finished with you, yet,” countered Adam. Calmly but firmly, he pushed his son back down, and once again seated himself on the table across from Pat. “Look at me.”<\/p>\n

Stubbornly, Pat stared at the tips of his boots. Adam put out a hand and tilted Pat’s chin up to force eye contact. “I said look at me,” he said very seriously. Pat blinked; he’d seen that look a couple of times in the last six months. He knew that his father was absolutely serious, and if he valued his hide, he’d better change his attitude. Sighing, Pat obeyed.<\/p>\n

“Patrick, there are hundreds of thousands of things in this world you can have, either just for the asking, or through hard work, or as a gift. On the other hand, there are probably several hundred million things you can’t have, for whatever reason. Now, it’s no fun learning to face that, but until you do, you’ll be miserable, always searching for ways to get at those inaccessible things and ignoring those that are right there, ready for the taking if you\u2019d only reach for them.”<\/p>\n

Pat studied his father, uncomfortably. In the last few months, he\u2019d enjoyed long talks of this nature about philosophy and ideas. Now, here they were coming back to bite him in the butt. Dad knows exactly how to get to me, dammit!<\/p>\n

“Learning to accept that is part of growing up. So is learning to accept that sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do just because they must be done. And not just doing them, but putting your best effort into them. A lot of men never learn that. They’re the people who brag they don’t do anything they don’t want to do. Well, that’s fine for a child, not a man. You’ll note they’re the ones filling the saloons and gaming tables, living life from one successful gambling pot or silver strike to the next. Life is filled with situations like this. You want to be treated with more respect and more like a grown up?” Adam eyed his son.<\/p>\n

Thinking over his behavior in the last few days, Pat flushed uncomfortably and shifted on the settee, unable to meet his father’s eyes, and shrugged.<\/p>\n

“Then you need to start behaving like one. Accept the things you can’t change and do your best to see them through. Do you understand?” Adam asked gently.<\/p>\n

Pat remained silent for a moment, then closed his eyes, his shoulders rigid with his internal struggles. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.<\/p>\n

“Good,” nodded his father. “Now, are we going to have a problem on Monday?”<\/p>\n

Pat bit his lower lip, then shook his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “No, sir.”<\/p>\n

“I’m glad to hear it,” Adam said. He put out a hand and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Pat, give it a chance, all right? That’s all I’m asking. Give it a chance. This is a great opportunity for you.”<\/p>\n

“I ain’t makin’ no promises,” he warned his father, recovering some of his spunk.<\/p>\n

Adam smiled and tousled his hair. “I couldn\u2019t imagine it any other way,” he said with a grin.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The following day was Sunday, and after services, Adam cornered Miss Elizabeth Masterson, the new schoolteacher hired just a few months back. She was young and enthusiastic, and thus far had done a remarkable job in raising the educational standards of the school. Her students were the best readers in the area and had the best grasp of the basics of arithmetic. As a member of the school board, Adam had taken great pride in knowing he’d helped to make such a good choice.<\/p>\n

“Miss Masterson, may I introduce a new student of yours?” he smiled, pulling Patrick forward a bit.<\/p>\n

Liz Masterson immediately noted the remarkable likeness between Adam and this boy and figured this must be the notorious Patrick Cartwright. In his blue-gray suit and gray hat, Pat was a handsome boy, tall for his age and powerfully built, but his attitude was one of discomfort; a typical adolescent being introduced to an adult, she smiled to herself.<\/p>\n

Pat Cartwright was considered to be a god-like hero to the younger boys in Virginia City area for his part in the early winter rescue of two damsels in distress from a drunken, lecherous suitor. Liz had often wondered why this young son of an active member of the school board didn’t attend school; maybe she’d finally find out.<\/p>\n

“This is my son, Patrick. He’ll be joining your class tomorrow.”<\/p>\n

“Oh, really?” she smiled, offering a warm welcome to the youngster. He was withdrawn and a little sullen, though he knew better than to be rude. “Well, it will be a great pleasure to have you join us, Patrick! What’s your favorite subject?”<\/p>\n

Pat sighed, looking at the ground. “Lunch,” he said glumly, making Adam blush and glare at him. But Liz laughed.<\/p>\n

“I don’t blame you,” she chuckled, enjoying his sense of humor. There was definitely a story here, and she wanted to know more about this intense, surprising young man. \u201cWhat grade are you in, Patrick?\u201d<\/p>\n

Frowning, not understanding, Pat shrugged, and glanced questioningly at his father.<\/p>\n

“I’ve been teaching Pat at home, Miss Masterson.”<\/p>\n

“What’s his reading level?<\/p>\n

“About seventh grade,” Adam answered. “He’s been reading a lot of Twain, Dickens, Alcott, even Hugo, and not having any trouble with it. His spelling is a problem, though.”<\/p>\n

“What about mathematics?”<\/p>\n

Adam thought a moment, hesitating, then \u2013 glancing at his boy \u2013 took the plunge. “Would it be helpful for you to come out to the Ponderosa and take a look at the work he’s done in the last several months and gauge for yourself where he stands?”<\/p>\n

She eyed Adam thoughtfully and studied Pat, who was feeling miserable, being talked about as though he wasn\u2019t even there. She swung her head back to Adam. “I think that’s a marvelous idea, Mr. Cartwright,” she smiled. She looked at Patrick. “Maybe, if you’re willing, I can take a little of your time to talk with you. I\u2019d like to get to know you a little better.”<\/p>\n

Pat looked at her; she was being very nice, really. He managed a small smile and nod. She beamed at the transformation in that face when the corners of his mouth lifted.<\/p>\n

“Well, then, ma’am, I would be most honored to invite you to share dinner with us this evening,” smiled Adam gallantly.<\/p>\n

Her eyes shone. “That would be most welcome, Mr. Cartwright,” she smiled.<\/p>\n

“Adam, please.”<\/p>\n

“Very well, but only if you call me Liz.”<\/p>\n

Patrick rolled his eyes, wishing these two would hurry up… it was cold out here! “Hey, Dad?” he prodded. “Can I go ahead home?”<\/p>\n

Adam smiled at his son. “I’ll be right there. Go get my horse, too, okay?”<\/p>\n

Pat nodded and jogged off to the hitching rails.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat sat before the fireplace with his father and talked with Miss Masterson for an hour or so as she gently probed to learn where his strengths and weaknesses lay. He found her easy to talk to, which made him think school just might be bearable, though he wasn\u2019t willing to give up the battle yet.<\/p>\n

“Pat, thank you for taking the time to talk with me,” she said warmly. “I appreciate this. It will help me plan out your lessons far better than if I had no idea where you stood academically.”<\/p>\n

“Sure,” he sighed, getting to his feet. “I’ve got to get the chores started. \u2018Scuse me, please.”<\/p>\n

Over in the office area, Ben diligently worked at his desk, though keeping more than half an ear open to the conversation going on in the great room. Likewise, Joe picked up a book and sat beside the stove and bookcase, paying no attention to the printed page but put his big ears to work eavesdropping fervently.<\/p>\n

Liz watched Pat shrug into his coat and head out the door, then tapped a finger to her lips and shifted in the red leather chair to face Adam, standing against the hearth.<\/p>\n

Adam nervously waited for the verdict. He sincerely hoped he hadn’t misjudged Pat. If he was going to be forced into a much lower grade level, he’d balk attending school until the cows came home, and Adam might as well give up the campaign right now. He watched as she seemed to struggle with the words to choose.<\/p>\n

“I’m amazed,” she said finally, throwing her hands out and getting to her feet, walking toward him, her head down, thinking.<\/p>\n

“Amazed,” Adam repeated, his heart sinking.<\/p>\n

She stopped and glanced at him. “He had never read before September?”<\/p>\n

“Nope. Never.”<\/p>\n

“He was completely illiterate?”<\/p>\n

“Yes,” nodded Adam, his spirits lifting a little.<\/p>\n

“Mr. Cartwright, Patrick is a bright boy,” she said, chuckling to herself and shaking her head. “Granted, there are some rather glaring gaps in his education, but to have come so far in only five months! He should be really proud of himself.\u201d<\/p>\n

“Once he learned to read, I couldn’t keep enough books in the house,” said Adam, smiling.<\/p>\n

“It’s not just his rapid accessibility of the skills, Mr. Cartwright,” she said, shaking her head, and then stopping her pacing enough to look at him. “It’s obvious that he’s a very calculating young man. He has a truly logical mind for a youngster his age. His natural affinity for mathematics is a manifestation of that. He should succeed very well in school. That is, if he can get over his loathing of the idea,” she smiled.<\/p>\n

Adam leaned back and relaxed. “Thank God, you had me worried for a moment,” he chuckled.<\/p>\n

Joe slammed his book shut and rose with alacrity as Hop Sing came in to announce supper being served.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Supper that evening was a pleasant meal. Joe found himself gravitating towards this lovely young woman with the honey-blond hair and brown eyes, intelligent face and sensitive fingers. Boy, they didn’t make schoolteachers like that when I was a kid, he thought, looking across the table at her. She was so different than any of the other young ladies he’d been seeing lately. To be honest, he was rather surprised at his interest. What was it about her that seemed to be stirring him so? Finally, Joe stopped worrying about it, smiled and just continued to let it happen.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth tried to mention interesting lessons she had planned, but Pat wasn’t biting. He sat and ate his supper quietly, still pretty blue over having lost the battle.<\/p>\n

To cover the unnatural quiet, Joe offered, “I sure wish there had been interesting teachers like you around when I went to school!”<\/p>\n

Everyone chuckled at the table but Pat, and Liz flushed slightly.<\/p>\n

“Did you enjoy school, Joe?”<\/p>\n

“Oh, yeah,” he lied boldly, “loved it!”<\/p>\n

Ben nearly choked on his wine, and Adam closed his eyes, willing himself not to chuckle. If Hoss hadn\u2019t been in San Francisco on business for the family, Joe\u2019s cover would have been completely blown.<\/p>\n

When the meal was finished and she mentioned that she really should be getting back to Virginia City to prepare for tomorrow, Joe grinned and offered to drive her back to town.<\/p>\n

“Why, Joe, that would be delightful! It’s quite a ways in the dark, and I’m still new enough that I’m always afraid I’ll take a wrong turn somehow and end up in Carson City by accident!” she laughed.<\/p>\n

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Miss Elizabeth,” he grinned, “I’ll go upstairs and get a jacket and be out to meet you in five minutes.”<\/p>\n

Joe was up and back down the stairs so fast his father’s neck ached trying to follow him. Adam was still mulling over the words of the young schoolteacher, and viewed his brother’s potential love life with amusement, but Pat had a sour look on his face as Joe pelted toward the door.<\/p>\n

“Joe! Whaddya want to be with her for?” he hissed at him angrily, to avoid being heard by his father or grandfather.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo I can keep a better eye on you!” Joe kidded him as he sped out the door, leaving it open.<\/p>\n

Troubled, Pat slowly shut the door. That statement hit a little too close to home to be comfortable.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[1] A small homage to a line from “The Savage,” Season 2, Episode 12, written by Joseph Stone, Paul King and David Dortort, directed by James Neilson.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER TWO<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The amber liquid in the glass glistened in the sparkling light of the chandelier, almost casting a glow on the crisp white linen tablecloth. As he held the glass in his hand, swirling it in a circular motion, the man gazed into its depths, thinking hard.<\/p>\n

He was a big man, several inches more than six feet tall, with bright blue eyes, a shock of faded red hair and age lines crisscrossing his pleasant, rugged face. He was lean and muscular, the tell-tale signs of a laborer\u2019s trade still etched into his features and build; the long, strong legs; the burly, well-developed forearms; the slightly hunched back, still stooped though he\u2019d left the back-breaking labor of a croppy in Ireland more than thirty years ago. Under the handsomely cut suit, his back bore other tell-tale signs of his past in Ireland.\u00a0 The lash marks from his stay at the expense of the Crown in one of their many prisons, interrogated for his role in a small, local uprising in the mid-1850s in his home village of Ballylynch in Ireland\u2019s County Armagh.<\/p>\n

Eamon Corrigan had been a grandson and follower of one of the original United Irishmen of the 1790s. Liam Corrigan had lost his home, his freedom and ultimately his life in his pursuit of armed resistance to the British military and political occupation of his beloved Ireland, along with so many other brave, doomed men. Inspired by the example of the American war for Independence and by the democratic ideals of the French Revolution, the United Irishmen sought to unite the people of Ireland in a common effort to achieve equality and freedom. At first, they chose non-violent means to win their aims, but they were met, time after time after time, with a repressive response from the British government. It was then they exercised what they considered their right to defend their liberty, as the Americans had done, as the French had done, through the use of arms. Nearly one hundred years, several rebellions and hundreds of dead young men and women later, that use of arms and the rebellion continued.<\/p>\n

These days, those were the memories that seemed to remain constant, blocking out the sweeter ones of the Ireland of Eamon\u2019s youth.\u00a0 The memories of his beautiful young wife, his handsome and vibrant son, Sean, both gone now, as well.<\/p>\n

\u201cEamon! Eamon Corrigan!\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan was jolted from his thoughts by the familiar voice and turned. \u201cLarkin! Willie Larkin, by all that\u2019s holy!\u201d he grinned, putting out a big, meaty hand. \u201c \u2018Tis grand it \u2018tis to be seein\u2019 ye, lad, grand!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, Eamon,\u201d nodded the other Irishman, slipping into the seat beside him. \u201cAnd when did ye get in?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA week hence,\u201d sighed Corrigan, sipping his whiskey.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what d\u2019ye think of our fair city, then?\u201d grinned the smaller man, gesturing to the bartender for service. \u201cQuite the place, is it not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe jewel of the West, this blessed city of San Francisco, provided ye have wealth and influence. If not, ye\u2019re welcome ta yer own heartache in the slums. Give all those on the Barbary Coast a brogue and it could be Derry, it could.\u201d<\/p>\n

Larkin snorted and accepted the shot glass full of whiskey the bartender handed him with a familiar nod and smile.<\/p>\n

Corrigan downed the rest of his drink in one swallow and sighed. \u201cSo, was it successful, then, this mission o\u2019 yours?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d nodded Larkin, pouring himself another shot, and glancing at Corrigan. \u201cThere\u2019ll be eight of us this evening. And some interesting leads for ye in the Comstock, lad\u2026. very interesting leads.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid ye follow up, then? Glad to hear it. Did ye find Mackay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye. In Virginia City, just as ye thought.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan smiled to himself.\u00a0Just as he\u2019d thought.<\/em>\u00a0He hauled himself to his feet. \u201cIt\u2019s nigh on the hour. The usual place, lad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, Betsey\u2019s back room.\u201d<\/p>\n

= = = =<\/p>\n

Corrigan and Larkin walked slowly through the Barbary Coast district, heading for a bar known to all the Irish in the city as a regular meeting place of Sinn Fein, the last vestiges of the Fenian Brotherhood. When many of the Fenians fled Ireland seeking refuge from the hangman\u2019s rope or the Orangeman\u2019s jail cells, a large number journeyed further West. In 1849, with the discovery of gold in California, the Brotherhood believed that the financing of the next major insurrection just might be found there.<\/p>\n

Many of the Irish who’d fled to America during the Great Hunger – the potato famine, between 1845-52 – had found no help in the major cities of the East. They found themselves treated as poorly there as in their native Ireland. Unwilling to remain where they felt as enslaved as they had been in their homeland, they pushed further West to find the freedom they desperately craved.<\/p>\n

Now, in San Francisco, there numbered many displaced Hibernians, all remembering the \u201cauld sod.\u201d And many were willing to do what they could to help the fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters left behind on that tiny island so rife with dispute.<\/p>\n

Corrigan and Larkin entered a waterfront dive that, from the outside, had seen better days. The main room wasn\u2019t much better, littered with the dregs of the waterfront; drunks and prostitutes, shanghai men and sailors. But in a back room, the illusion shattered.<\/p>\n

This room was richly furnished with velvet porti\u00e8res on sham windows, comfortable padded chairs, well-kept gaming tables and a top-shelf stocked bar. All of the appointments were the finest. It was a secret gentleman\u2019s club catering to the wealthy and powerful Irish of San Francisco.<\/p>\n

Betsey Malloy ran the place, a Fenian herself, wealthy now, and always a generous donor to the Movement. Betsey was getting more than a little long in the tooth, nearing sixty, but still a vibrant, interesting woman. Her games of chance were honest, her whiskey unwatered, and her hospitality legion. Tonight was no exception.<\/p>\n

Corrigan cast his eye around the room and smiled. Green was the predominant color, from the velvet appointments to the greenbacks on the gaming tables. There weren\u2019t many in the room that night; it was a private party, just for the guests of Willie Larkin.<\/p>\n

\u201cGentlemen, may I be introducin\u2019 to ye Mr. Eamon Corrigan,\u201d Larkin himself smiled as he waved Corrigan in the door. The six other men in the room smiled and came forward, hands outstretched. Introductions pointed out a banker, a hotelier, the owner of several livery stables, the respected owner of two general stores, and two investors in bonds, silver and gold. Irishmen all. Betsey sat in the background, her deep red gown jewel-studded, her face painted and her red hair as faded as Corrigan\u2019s.<\/p>\n

After the introductions Corrigan smiled and deliberately walked over to his hostess and lifted her outstretched hand to his lips. \u201cAh, Bets, it\u2019s grand to see ye again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you, Eamon,\u201d she smiled warmly. \u201cIt\u2019s been ten years.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye. They\u2019ve been kind to ye, lass.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBlarney it \u2018tis, Eamon Corrigan!\u201d she laughed. \u201cBut pleasant to me ears, none the less.\u201d She turned to the bartender. \u201cJimmy, lad, a cognac for our guest.<\/p>\n

Corrigan cocked an eyebrow, in surprise. \u201cYe remembered.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s much I remember, Eamon,\u201d she grinned devilishly as she rose. \u201cGentlemen, shall we get started? There\u2019s not much time.\u201d<\/p>\n

The men seated themselves around the large poker table, the bartender delivering the drinks, and offering cigars to each man.<\/p>\n

\u201cEamon, lad, we\u2019ve come across a young man here, from Virginia City itself, son a wealthy rancher,\u201d began Larkin, with no preamble. \u201cIt\u2019s said this lad\u2019s family is well-connected, knows many of the mine owners. We\u2019ve checked it out. In fact, his family\u2019s holdings include a prosperous mine called the Bristlecone. He\u2019s in San Francisco on family business, but it \u2018twould appear, it would, that this man isn\u2019t what ye\u2019d call the brains of the family.\u201d<\/p>\n

Derisive laughter met this last comment, and Corrigan cocked an eyebrow. \u201cA half-wit it \u2018tis ye\u2019ve saddled me with, Willie?\u201d he asked with a grim smile, his blue eyes cold.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a\u2019tall, not a\u2019tall,\u201d protested one of the other men, younger than the rest and a little annoyed. \u201cThe man\u2019s no eejit! Simply not the money man of the family, he isn\u2019t. The spread his family owns is primarily a cattle ranch, some of the finest beef in the Nevada territory. From my talks with him, it \u2018twould appear his heart\u2019s in the land and the beasts, not the mines.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he knows those whose hearts are, I take it?\u201d asked Corrigan sipping his cognac.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d nodded the youngster, one Brendan Flaherty.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes he know Mackay? That\u2019s the one I\u2019m truly after. And did ye talk with Flood and O\u2019Brien?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye. They think he\u2019ll be willing, they do indeed. But they agree that \u2018twould be best to go through someone known in Virginia City itself. They thought Mackay might even allow a vote of the Bonanza Firm to sequester a portion of their development of the Comstock Lode to go to Sinn Fein.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan\u2019s eyebrow cocked again. \u201cTruly? Well, that may prove to be a godsend, that,\u201d he mused, leaning back in his seat. \u201cWhat about the fourth partner?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat, Slippery Jim Fair?\u201d grinned another man. \u201cYe might be wise to avoid him altogether, Corrigan. A mean sonofabitch, that one. Dublin-born, and the only thing\u00a0he<\/em>\u00a0supports are the brothels and his habit for a pint!\u201d The chuckles around the table made Corrigan think. He\u2019d have to know more before he\u2019d proceed.<\/p>\n

\u201cSmall Irish miners out there, ye said?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, several. And several wealthy grubstakers who\u2019ve done well for themselves, including Mrs. Annie Lundberg.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLundberg, is it?!\u201d laughed Corrigan. \u201cA daughter of the auld sod, that one, I\u2019ll bet!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf ye\u00a0did<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0bet, ye\u2019d win, lad,\u201d grinned Larkin. \u201cAnnie\u00a0O\u2019Toole<\/em>\u00a0Lundberg, I\u2019ll have ye know, and one of the wealthiest women in the territory. A partner, shareholder, whatever ye\u2019d like ta call it, in the Lucky Stiff, one of the richest silver strikes on the Comstock.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan\u2019s face registered his surprise, and Larkin\u2019s grin widened.\u00a0 \u201cHer husband, Swede Lundberg, staked the claim awhile back, and she and her father, Kevin O\u2019Toole, moved out there to work the stake and make their fortune. Himself died as soon as he reached Nevada, and through sheer grit and cunning she managed to reap a fortune by grubstakin\u2019 damned near every two-bit miner in Washoe Diggings! Not the least of whom was Trapdoor Gregory Spain,\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSpain!\u201d Corrigan sputtered, nearly choking on his drink.\u00a0 \u201cThat sleazy devil?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye!\u00a0 He bought her claim\u2026for a hefty price. She demanded quite a bit out of Spain since Himself was buried on the site.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBuried on it?\u201d gaped Corrigan, amazed.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye! It cost Spain a pretty penny to move him, too, I\u2019ll have ye know!\u201d laughed Larkin. \u201cShe gets an annual five percent of the gross take!\u201d The table shared the laughter, and Corrigan shook his head, chuckling.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, and our man\u2019s family is friendly with the Lundbergs\u2026seems they helped her get her start, they did,\u201d put in Flaherty.<\/p>\n

Corrigan eyed the group before him, musing, then leaned back in his seat. \u201cLads, here we are in the year of our lord eighteen hundred and seventy-two. \u2018Tis nearly one hundred years since the United Irishman began the battle to free Ireland from her oppressive masters. \u2018Tis sure I am that the silver from Nevada would grease the wheels of the machine to break that oppression. I propose a toast to the efforts of Sinn Fein in the blessedly silver-lined borough of Virginia City.\u201d He rose to his feet, raising his glass, and they all drank. \u201cNow, then. Will someone be tellin\u2019 me where will I find this scion of a wealthy cattle baron, eh? And what might his name be?\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHoss! Hoss Cartwright!\u201d<\/p>\n

The big young man looked up from the beer he was nursing in surprise. He looked uncomfortable in his suit, and slightly like a fish out of water. It was his last night in San Francisco and while he\u2019d been here in town for nearly a week, he hadn\u2019t gone out of his way to become great friends with many residents. Though his given name was Erik, he\u2019d nearly forgotten it having been called Hoss since he was a small child, a name foisted upon him by his Uncle Gunnar and his older brother Adam, then only six.<\/p>\n

\u2018Hoss\u2019 was Smokey Mountain hill vernacular for a big, friendly man. And Hoss Cartwright lived up to that name. At six feet four inches tall, nearly two hundred and sixty pounds, Hoss had a jovial, kindly nature, was slow to anger and slower still to mistrust someone. He was a gentle man; he didn\u2019t seek trouble. The fact that it often found him, due to his size or the frequent influence of his cocky younger brother, was beside the point.<\/p>\n

Now, as he raised his head at the greeting, he beamed at Brendan Flaherty and nodded politely to the older man with him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was hopin\u2019 I\u2019d be seein\u2019 ye, lad!\u201d grinned Flaherty, accepting a beer from the bartender.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, ya almost missed me, Mr. Flaherty,\u201d Hoss grinned, sipping his beer. \u201cI gotta make an early start in the mornin\u2019. Stage leaves at eight, and there\u2019s a bed up yonder callin\u2019 my name.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flaherty laughed and gestured forward his companion. \u201cAnd isn\u2019t that exactly what I\u2019m wantin\u2019 to talk with ye about? Hoss, let me be introducin\u2019 ye to Eamon Corrigan. He\u2019s going to be ridin\u2019 the same stage with ye\u2019 to Virginia City.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Corrigan,\u201d smiled the large young man. Corrigan wasn\u2019t more than an inch\u00a0 shorter than he was, and he noted the grip that held his big, meaty hand was as strong as his own.<\/p>\n

\u201cIndeed a pleasure it \u2018tis, Mr\u2026.Cartwright, is it?\u201d smiled Corrigan.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir. Hoss Cartwright,\u201d grinned Hoss, accepting Brendan\u2019s suggestion of them moving to a table.<\/p>\n

\u201cHorse?\u201d asked Corrigan, curiously.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir, not \u2018horse\u2019,\u201d he corrected amiably, \u201cjust plain Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, just plain Hoss, \u2018tis proud I am to know ye,\u201d the older man smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019ll you be doin\u2019 in Virginia City, sir? You got kin there?\u201d asked Hoss pleasantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, lad, I\u2019m to be there on business. Hopin\u2019 to be meetin\u2019 some of the mine owners.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo kiddin\u2019!\u201d grinned Hoss, settling back with his beer. \u201cWhich ones?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, the wealthy ones, don\u2019t ye know?\u201d grinned Corrigan. \u201cLookin\u2019 for investments from those less than successful would be a waste of me time, don\u2019t ye agree?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYep, I guess it would be at that,\u201d laughed Hoss. \u201cYou might want ta talk to my Pa and my brother, Adam, then. We got us a mine, the Bristlecone, that\u2019s doin\u2019 real well. Adam says the assay reports\u2019re comin\u2019 in real good these days.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTruly? \u2018Tis grand, that,\u201d nodded Corrigan. He noted the gentle friendliness of this big simple man and sighed inwardly. \u2018Twill be like takin\u2019 candy from a baby\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Breakfast Monday morning was a strained, uncomfortable meal at the Ponderosa. Ben, Joe and Adam tried to keep the conversation light and pleasant, but Patrick was silent and subdued, his nerves wound tight.<\/p>\n

Adam watched sadly as Pat picked at his breakfast, pushing the food around his plate and resting his chin dejectedly on his fist.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, take your elbows off the table, son,\u201d he said gently. Heaving a gargantuan sigh, Patrick obeyed and laid down his fork, leaning back in his seat.<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t hungry,\u201d he said, quietly, not looking at his father. \u201cMay I please be excused?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben and Joe glanced at each other, Joe with a wicked grin on his face and Ben with a tender, understanding smile.<\/p>\n

Adam sighed and laid his own fork down. \u201cPat, you\u2019ve got to eat. It\u2019s going to be a long day, and -\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re tellin\u2019 me,\u201d he muttered, his lower lip thrust out slightly.<\/p>\n

Adam was about to retort when he caught his father\u2019s eye; Ben gently shook his head, and Adam exhaled in frustration. \u201cAll right. You may be excused.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silently, Pat got to his feet and walked upstairs, shoulders drooping as though he was walking back to a jail cell. Joe giggled and shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph,\u201d warned his father. Joe wiped the grin off his face and put his attention back to his ham and eggs.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf he doesn\u2019t change his attitude, he\u2019s going to have a miserable day,\u201d worried Adam, pushing his plate away, his own appetite suddenly gone, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019ll be all right once he gets there. He\u2019s just like you were. It simply takes him a little time to get used to change and new situations. Try not to be too concerned,\u201d reassured Ben, sipping his coffee.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know, Pa,\u201d sighed Adam, rubbing the back of his neck. \u201cHe\u2019s not looking angry as much as defeated. I\u2019ve never seen him like this before.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe lost a battle he wanted to win very badly,\u201d said Ben simply, reaching for another slice of toast from the rack. \u201cIt\u2019s understandable, son.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, he\u2019s lost before but I\u2019ve never seen him quite this\u2026this\u2026I don\u2019t know, quite this miserable and for this long. I thought after meeting Elizabeth yesterday he\u2019d feel better about the whole thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, you gotta remember, he hasn\u2019t been too lucky with the other kids in town, except for Micah and Cassie,\u201d said Joe seriously, buttering his own slice of toast.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s gotta be on his mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam frowned and drummed his fingers on the tablecloth. He turned as he heard Pat come back downstairs.\u00a0 His son\u2019s hair was combed and he was dressed in his school clothes, his face pale and his whole demeanor one of tension and discomfort. The boy said nothing but sat down on the settee to wait. Adam\u2019s heart ached at the unhappiness he saw in his son, and hoped he was doing the right thing, that his boy would be all right once he got into class and began to adjust to the new situation. Adam got to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, let\u2019s go on into town and get you registered, all right?\u201d he said, trying to be positive and buoyant. Pat wasn\u2019t buying it.\u00a0 He obeyed; he dressed warmly in his coat, gloves and hat, but he said nothing and remained downcast. Adam shrugged into his own coat. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you go and saddle the horses? I\u2019ll be out in a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded, trudging out the door.<\/p>\n

Adam watched him go and jumped as he realized his father had come up beside him.\u00a0God, my nerves are as bad as Pat’s.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2018He\u2019ll be all right, Adam,\u201d smiled Ben, putting an arm around his worried son\u2019s shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cI certainly hope so, Pa,\u201d mused Adam.<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER THREE<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

The schoolyard was filled with children. A small corral near the school building held the horses of the children that rode to school from the outlying areas, and under a nearby lean-to, several long boards on sawhorses held their saddles. Swallowing hard as he took in the scene before him, Patrick leaned down and patted Black Jack\u2019s neck, comforting himself as much as the two-year-old.<\/p>\n

The last snow had left a good, two-inch thick ground cover and the children were having a snowball fight in the yard. Adam glanced toward his son and saw the familiar closed and skeptical expression on his face as he watched the other kids. Adam shook his head and dismounted slapping his horse\u2019s reins around the hitching post. \u201cPat, why don\u2019t you get the saddle off Jack and turn him into the corral with the others.\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy was sure anyone within four feet of him would be able to hear his heart hammering like a steam engine. Pat turned Jack, walking the horse up close alongside his father, and looked down at him, a desperate, pleading expression in his eyes. \u201cPlease, Dad\u2026\u201d he implored softly, begging him to change his mind.<\/p>\n

Steeling himself, Adam reached out and comfortingly rubbed his son\u2019s knee. \u201cC\u2019mon, son, hurry up or you\u2019ll be late,\u201d he said firmly.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s shoulders slumped, and his eyes closed. His jaw set stubbornly, Pat angrily wheeled Black Jack around and trotted him over to the corral.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow is he?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam turned, and saw Elizabeth, wrapped in a shawl, standing beside him. \u201cNervous, worried, upset,\u201d he shrugged. \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright,\u201d she said kindly. \u201cHe\u2019ll be fine. Why don\u2019t you let me handle it from here? I\u2019ve already registered him, so you don\u2019t need to stay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam glanced back toward Pat as he slapped Jack\u2019s rump to move him into the corral and shut the gates, then turned toward the schoolhouse and trudged their way.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf he sees how concerned you are, he\u2019ll be even more nervous,\u201d she said gently.<\/p>\n

Adam glanced at her, startled, then smiled guiltily. \u201cIt shows that much?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded, wryly.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right,\u201d he chuckled. As Pat approached, Adam turned to him and smiled, his eyes warm. \u201cI\u2019ll be heading out, son. I\u2019ll see you tonight at home, all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s eyes widened a little in dismay.\u00a0I thought you was gonna be with me for a few minutes, at least!<\/em>\u00a0He felt his throat close up in fear, as though he was facing a fist fight in the Tenderloin instead of just walking into a schoolhouse. He felt his body fall into old familiar patterns: a hostile, closed expression, tight shoulders, and a raised, belligerent chin. He nodded at his father, not trusting his voice.<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s heart went out to his boy, trying so hard to keep his composure! He wanted so badly to just hug him and reassure him, \u201cYou can do this, kid, I believe in you.\u201d\u00a0<\/em>But the man knew Pat had to do this on his own. Swallowing his own misgivings at the situation, Adam smiled at him and reached out to squeeze his shoulder, leaning close. \u201cYou\u2019ll survive,\u201d he said with a smile, \u201cI promise.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat shrugged off the hand, glancing back at the group of kids, hoping no one saw. \u201cDaaaad!\u201d Pat protested through his teeth, flushing in embarrassment.<\/p>\n

Grinning, Adam touched his hat to Liz Masterson and turned away.<\/p>\n

Patrick watched as his father mounted Sport and trot off.\u00a0Well, that\u2019s it. I\u2019m on my own now.\u00a0<\/em>He felt a gentle hand on his arm and glanced at Miss Masterson.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t we go on inside, Patrick? I can show you your desk and help you get settled in,\u201d she encouraged, firmly guiding him into the schoolhouse.<\/p>\n

= = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cChildren, I\u2019d like you to meet a new classmate, Patrick Cartwright,\u201d said Miss Masterson evenly.<\/p>\n

Pat, who\u2019d been focusing on the back wall of the room, slowly brought his eyes up warily to look out over the rest of the class. His mother had chided him once, dryly, that when he was nervous or scared, his fallback expression managed to make him look \u201cas forbidding as a priest in a brothel.\u201d She\u2019d advised him to try his best to try to keep his face at least neutral, if not actually smiling. Had he remembered that advice, his day might have gone quite a bit easier.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you\u2019ll all make him feel welcome, won\u2019t you?\u201d Miss Masterson was saying.<\/p>\n

Cassie Yates, one of the few to accept him when he\u2019d first arrived last summer, bastard or not, was seated on the other side of the room, watching him in concern.\u00a0What\u2019s the matter with him?<\/em>\u00a0she wondered.\u00a0Where\u2019s the big, easy smile, the grin that always makes me feel good just being around him? Who is this sullen, silent boy glaring around the room at everybody? This isn\u2019t the Pat I know\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

The other children studied him quietly. This was\u00a0the<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0Pat Cartwright, the bastard son of one of richest men in the territory. They remembered stories of his abilities as a street fighter, card player and his godlike status as a hero of endangered women.[1]<\/a>\u00a0It was like having a dime novel hero standing right there in front of them. What would he be like as a classmate? A few tentative smiles went out to him, but poor Pat\u2019s nerves wouldn\u2019t let him do more than coolly look out over the classroom.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s awful stand-offish, ain\u2019t he?\u201d whispered a little girl beside Cassie, uneasily.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s \u2026 he\u2019s just nervous, is all!\u201d she hissed back, but she worried as she saw Pat continue to withdraw into his shell, and then suddenly he changed.\u00a0 And she shivered.<\/p>\n

Miss Masterson pointed out the different things in the room from the water bucket to the woodbox that each of the boys would help fill each day.\u00a0But her explanation of the layout of the room and why things were where they were, stalled slightly as she saw Pat’s eyes meet with her three trouble-makers.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s eyes narrowed as his eyes lit on Tommy Sanders, Drew Norbert and Rob Shepherd. Now,\u00a0these<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0three he knew. For a week afterward, he\u2019d worn the bruises and knuckle-marks they\u2019d inflicted in a fight outside the church just three or four days after his arrival on the Ponderosa; even at three-to-one, Pat had managed to give as good as he got. His eyes turned ice cold as he surveyed the three of them; his eyes didn\u2019t waver, back straight and his head high. All of the uneasiness was gone, replaced with a cold, ruthless imperturbability.\u00a0This\u00a0<\/em>was his turf; he understood the dynamic here with no problem. He held their gaze; they dropped their eyes first.<\/p>\n

The exchange wasn\u2019t lost on the rest of the class, or on Elizabeth; she made a note to keep an eye on these four boys.\u00a0Neither Tom nor Drew, especially, appreciated being shown up by other boys.<\/p>\n

Finally, she guided him to his desk, where she placed him \u2013 thank God! \u2013 beside Micah Devlin.<\/p>\n

After placing a hand encouragingly on Pat\u2019s shoulder with a smile, Elizabeth clapped her hands and got the school day underway.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

It was an absolutely awful morning.<\/p>\n

Even though Elizabeth had thoughtfully placed Patrick beside Micah, hoping Mike would ease Pat\u2019s discomfort, Pat\u2019s worries numbered in the thousands. He felt like a fool, ignorant of any of the rules of how things worked here, rules that even the smallest children seemed to be aware of.\u00a0 He tried to simply remain quiet and observe, searching for clues to unlock the mysteries of the hierarchy, the politics. He found himself shifting between staring in discomfort at the scarred wooden top of the desk and occasionally stealing glances at the other children to try to glean what was acceptable and what was not.<\/p>\n

Micah, beside him, could see his friend was tense, but also knew they weren\u2019t supposed to chat in class while Miss Masterson was teaching.\u00a0 He noticed Pat alternate between surreptitiously watching the other children and dropping his eyes to the desktop as though all his answers rested in the grain of the wood.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou okay?\u201d Mike whispered, worriedly.<\/p>\n

White-faced, Pat abruptly shook his head.<\/p>\n

Helplessly, Mike tried to draw him out whenever he could sneak a question, but finally gave up, shrugged and let him be.<\/p>\n

Pat made note of the fact that when people want to say something or do something they raised their hand; he wondered why?\u00a0Damned silly, if you ask me. Like sittin\u2019 at the supper table all day long! Can\u2019t be excused without permission.<\/em><\/p>\n

He was a little relieved to note that the first lesson was arithmetic, a subject he had no trouble following. Miss Masterson was working on\u00a0algebraic equations\u00a0with the six or seven older children, including Cassie, Patrick, and Micah. Since Pat enjoyed\u00a0puzzles involving logic, he and Adam had rapidly worked through the skills for this kind of work, and the boy felt a little more at ease. While he never opened his mouth to answer a question, and Elizabeth didn\u2019t force him into it, she noted his intelligent expression, and nearly chuckled when he stared in amazement at someone\u2019s particularly severe blunder but said nothing. Miss Masterson taught the lesson, then put several problems on the board, having students come up to solve them. She decided this was the chance for Pat to take the plunge.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, children, let\u2019s see\u2026Micah, Cassie, Andrew, and Patrick, go to the board and work out these four problems, please?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat went pale, then gulped. Slowly he got to his feet and followed the other three, two his friends and one his enemy, up to the front of the room. His stomach cramped in a knot and sweat beaded his forehead despite the February chill. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the others pick up pieces of chalk from the wooden trough under the blackboard. His hand shaking slightly, he reached out and did the same. He drew in a deep breath and looked up at the problem on the board.<\/p>\n

He let the breath out with a smile as he realized this was an easy problem, one he could do in his sleep. He brought up the chalk and started to write. He\u2019d never used chalk on a chalkboard before, just a slate pencil and slate.\u00a0 The entire room squealed and groaned, shivers running up and down their spines, as the chalk screeched across the board. After the groans, the class erupted in titters of laughter.<\/p>\n

\u201cClass!\u201d admonished Miss Masterson.<\/p>\n

Beet red with embarrassment, he glanced back at her, and she smiled at him encouragingly, and gently adjusted his hand to a different slant. \u201cGo ahead, Patrick, just don\u2019t press quite so hard on the chalk, and try to keep your hand at an angle.\u201d<\/p>\n

Returning his eyes to the board, Pat pulled in another deep breath, trying to get his nerves back under control and focused on the numbers.\u00a0 Numbers made sense.\u00a0 They obeyed and did what you told them to do.\u00a0 He mentally calculated and then rapidly wrote out the steps of the problem, finishing well ahead of the others. He glanced beside him, where Mike stood, struggling with his equation. Pat looked over Mike\u2019s work, saw the error and smiled amiably, leaning over to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Mike, here\u2019s where you got your problem,\u201d he started in a soft and friendly voice, reaching out with his fingertips to erase an error. To his surprise, Micah stared at him in shock.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, no!\u201d hissed Cassie, worried, glancing back at the teacher<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Pat asked, looking beyond Mike to her, confused. The class erupted in laughter again, and Pat flushed again as he realized that, somehow, he\u2019d made another blunder, though he had no idea what it could be.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all right, Pat,\u201d reassured Miss Masterson as she walked up beside him. \u201cI\u2019m pleased you were willing to help Micah, but the purpose of this exercise is to see just how well all of you understand the problems, individually. If Micah is having difficulty and you solve the problem for him, how will I know where he needs extra help?”<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I wasn\u2019t doin\u2019 it for him,\u201d protested Pat, upset, his cheeks still uncomfortably warm. \u201cI was just showin\u2019 him where the mistake was.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAgain, Patrick, if you did that\u00a0I\u00a0<\/em><\/strong>wouldn\u2019t know where his error was, would I?\u201d<\/p>\n

The class tittered again, getting Pat angry. He looked at her, confused and irritated. \u201cYou woulda showed him yerself where the mistake was, right?\u201d he demanded, his tone becoming dangerously insolent.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, it\u2019s all right,\u201d muttered Mike, a hand on his friend\u2019s arm, worriedly glancing at the teacher.<\/p>\n

Startled, Miss Masterson nodded. \u201cYes, I would have.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, what\u2019s the difference, if I show \u2018im or you show \u2018im, long as he ends up understandin\u2019 the problem?\u201d Pat cocked an eyebrow at her.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth was taken aback.\u00a0 At face value, Patrick was right; it shouldn\u2019t matter.\u00a0 But she needed to establish the hierarchy in this classroom quickly before things got out of hand.\u00a0 She drew in a breath, careful to modulate her tone.\u00a0 \u201cThe difference is that, like it or not, this is an exercise that requires each of you to do your own work,\u201d she said gently but firmly.<\/p>\n

Actually, she thought about what he\u2019d said and decided that she\u2019d put that idea into his lessons and those of all the older children. Peer support might make good sense.\u00a0And she should probably keep Pat after class to explain some of the rules, mentally chiding herself for having been sidetracked by the bit of aggressive masculinity demonstrated at the beginning of the day.<\/p>\n

Pat, yet to learn the lesson of discretion being the better part of valor, stared at her for a moment, then sighed shaking his head, muttering a bit insolently under his breath as he turned back to his own equation, double checking his work. \u201cSo, what yer sayin\u2019 is that if I got my work done, and I got all the time in the world, and there\u2019s somebody right next to me strugglin\u2019 with it, I gotta stand there, twiddlin\u2019 my thumbs and watch \u2018em struggle.\u201d<\/p>\n

Every eye in the classroom rested on teacher and student, and the silence was deafening. And in that silence, Pat realized he should have kept his mouth shut. This wasn\u2019t home, and this woman wasn\u2019t his dad. Once again, he\u2019d stepped in it.<\/p>\n

Miss Masterson\u2019s eyes and voice were very firm. \u201cPatrick, I\u2019m not going to argue with you, and I certainly do not have to explain myself to you. This is your first day of school, and as such I will overlook some things. Insolence is not one of them, nor are arrogance or rudeness.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat swallowed hard, noticing that the classroom was absolutely silent, and that all the children were staring at him. He flushed scarlet to the tips of his ears and dropped his eyes. \u201cSorry,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cApology accepted.\u201d Miss Masterson glanced at his work on the board and nodded. \u201cExcellent work, Patrick. You may return to your seat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Without a word, a red-faced and humiliated Patrick Cartwright walked back to his desk, sat down, and closed his eyes.\u00a0Nice move, idiot<\/em>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

The bit of ease he\u2019d felt through the first part of the arithmetic lesson was short-lived; next came spelling. Pat groaned inwardly; the one thing that would find him having to do extra studying or writing extra practice drills at home was spelling. After a disastrous spelling bee (for Pat, anyway; he had to return to his seat after only his second word), Miss Masterson put the spelling lists for each grade on the blackboard and had everyone copy onto their slates the spelling words they\u2019d need to study for the week.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s handwriting always left a lot to be desired, something his father had been after him to take his time with and do carefully, so he made the extra effort to copy the words neatly. By the time he finished, Miss Masterson had finished a reading lesson with the littlest ones and smiled at the class.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, children. You may be excused for recess,\u201d she nodded. Eyes wide in surprise, Pat watched as the entire class erupted from the classroom like a herd of wild horses.<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon!\u201d urged Mike, with a grin. \u201cWe got fifteen minutes to go outside!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you cracked? It\u2019s cold out there!\u201d Pat said, in shock.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, get yer coat an\u2019 come on!\u201d laughed Mike, dragging his friend to the cloak room.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Outside, Pat relaxed a little and listened as Cassie and Mike drilled him in some of the rules.<\/p>\n

NO talking out loud.<\/p>\n

NO getting up and walking around without permission.<\/p>\n

NO talking out of turn.<\/p>\n

NO passing notes back and forth.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s head was spinning. \u201cWhy in the heck don\u2019t they just chain us to the desks and get it over with?\u201d he asked, in wonder.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, it ain\u2019t that bad, Pat,\u201d grinned Mike. \u201cYou\u2019ll get used to it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, they say ya can get used ta anything, even bein\u2019 hung,\u201d snorted Pat, hunching his shoulders in his coat. While they were talking, they didn\u2019t see the three troublemakers coming around behind them. But suddenly, Pat felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise\u2026slowly, he turned around, consciously aware they were being watched.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, city boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aw, hell\u2026what is it Dad was always saying? History repeats itself\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat eyed the three toughs, and blandly sighed. \u201cYou\u2019d better be gone,\u201d he sneered disdainfully.<\/p>\n

Tommy Sanders cocked his head to one side. \u201cYour old man ain\u2019t here to save you this time.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes blue steel, Pat cleared his hands from his pockets, coming to his feet and slowly cocking his fists. He was\u00a0done<\/em><\/strong>.\u00a0 After the day he\u2019d had so far, if he was pushed into a fight, he\u2019d give it everything he had. He almost wished for it, just to have the relief of blowing off some steam.<\/p>\n

Nervous, Cassie looked to Micah. He nodded at her, and stepped up beside Pat.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, c\u2019mon\u2026you\u2019ll just get into trouble,\u201d urged Mike, taking his arm and knowing his friend.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, a sharp peal of a bell sounded, making Pat jump and turn his head in alarm. The three bullies started laughing and sauntered past him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe bell. Recess is over,\u201d sighed Cassie, relieved. Mike nodded and pushed Pat toward the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cBy the way, one more rule\u2026NO fighting, or else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr else what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t wanna know,\u201d responded Mike, grimly, pulling his friend up the school steps.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Pat managed to get through the rest of the morning without further incident, though sitting still for so long was wearisome. He stifled a yawn through a history lesson that he already knew all about; he enjoyed the geography lesson, exposed for the first time to maps of European countries and finding them fascinating. Dad had a globe in his room that Pat loved to study and dream over.\u00a0 To see the names of countries, cities, and towns he knew from stories and books he\u2019d read, alone and with his father, had been wonderful, placing the visual imagery of their locations firmly in his head, the way he always first learned things.\u00a0 London, in the southern part of the island of England, from\u00a0Oliver Twist.<\/em>\u00a0 Paris, France from\u00a0The Three Musketeers<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0Les Mis\u00e9rables<\/em>.\u00a0 Islands off the coast of Venezuela for\u00a0Robinson Crusoe<\/em>.<\/p>\n

He was surprised to find himself feeling emotional about one map in particular that Miss Masterson was sharing with them.\u00a0 A detailed map of Ireland.\u00a0 His heart caught painfully when he spotted County Armagh and Belfast, though not seeing a Ballylynch nearby.\u00a0Musta been too small a village.\u00a0<\/em>It made him think of his mother, of Hell\u2019s Kitchen\u2026 of home.<\/p>\n

Finally, it was time for lunch, and Pat gratefully ran for the outhouse. He had struggled for nearly an hour trying to figure out how to get around that situation. Miss Masterson usually asked why a kid wanted to be excused. He wasn\u2019t about to stand up and say, \u201cGolly gee, Miss Masterson, I gotta take a leak!\u201d So, miserably, he\u2019d squirmed a bit until the lunch bell rang.<\/p>\n

While Pat, Mike and Cassie ate their lunches, five or six other children around their age joined them, trying to be friendly.\u00a0 Pat did his best to try to relax but was still wary of opening up to these unknown children.\u00a0 Knowledge was power; giving up too much information to the wrong people could cost you; he remembered that well from Hell\u2019s Kitchen.\u00a0 So, he remained quiet, which sadly came off to the others as aloof. Still, he enjoyed the break and listening to the conversation of the other kids. This was something he hadn\u2019t enjoyed in months, hearing the talk of people his own age.\u00a0 The young voices, laughing and chattering made him wistful and lonely for Jack and Seamus, wee Rory and, of course, Su Chang.[2]<\/a>\u00a0 He kept the three troublemakers in sight as much as possible out of the corner of his eye and was grateful to note they were keeping their distance.<\/p>\n

When the bell rang, Pat rose with the others and headed in, hanging up his coat and returning to his seat, unconsciously falling into the routine.<\/p>\n

The afternoon wasn\u2019t as bad, and Pat was able to remember all the rules. When Miss Masterson was seeking someone to read aloud, he tentatively raised his hand and she beamed at him and nodded. He got through the assigned passage from The Fifth McGuffey Reader easily, using proper emphasis and pronunciation, even if with a New York nasal accent.<\/p>\n

\u201cVery nicely done, Patrick.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat blushed and ducked his head a little, a first shy smile finding its way to the corners of his mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, children, the weather looks a little nasty, as though it might snow again, so I\u2019m going to release you a little bit early. Class dismissed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat let out a relieved sigh and got to his feet. He\u2019d done it! He\u2019d gotten through the day! He was talking over the desks to Micah as they filed down the aisles toward the cloak room and didn\u2019t see the foot stuck out in the aisle in front of him. One moment he was cheerfully talking about tobogganing that coming Saturday, and the next he was sprawled on the floor, his ribs aching from having glanced painfully off a desk on his way down.<\/p>\n

He scrambled to his feet and whirled around. Sitting there, with insolent grins on their faces were Tommy and Drew, their feet still stuck out in the aisle.<\/p>\n

Pat saw red.\u00a0 Instantly, he launched at them, his eyes snapping, and the fight was on.<\/p>\n

\u201cBoys! That\u2019s enough!\u201d cried Miss Masterson, trying to pull them apart. \u201cPatrick, I said that\u2019s enough!\u201d<\/p>\n

Micah hurriedly pulled his friend off Tommy, who was fighting back in shocked surprise. Somehow, the bully hadn\u2019t expected Pat to come at him like that.\u00a0Jeez,\u00a0everybody<\/strong>\u00a0knows \u00a0ya can\u2019t fight inside school!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThomas, Andrew and Patrick, you will remain after school with me,\u201d Miss Masterson ordered, her voice sharp and firm. \u201cThe rest of you children go on home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Micah and Cassie gazed at Pat in sorrowful sympathy as they filed out with the rest of the students. Miss Masterson watched the others go, then marched to the front of the classroom and picked up the cane from its position on the wall. She turned, angrily, and stood beside her desk. \u201cThe three of you, come here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tom and Drew glanced uneasily at each other, then reluctantly shuffled to the front of the room. Pat hung back a moment, trying to figure out what was going on. With one glance at the cane, he imagined he had a pretty good idea. Brows lowered, he, too, followed.<\/p>\n

\u201cGentlemen, we are going to start this session with some very, very clear guidelines,\u201d she said coldly. \u201cThere will be no fighting in my classroom. If there is, you will be punished immediately. That rule has always stood in this classroom, ever since my first day here, but apparently you seem to have forgotten. We\u2019ll reinforce the memory. Thomas, your hand.\u201d<\/p>\n

Taking a deep breath, Tom slowly put out his left hand, palm up and looked away. He flinched as the cane cracked down on his palm, first causing a white furrow, then a rapidly reddening welt to be raised. The cane cracked down twice more, making Tommy yelp on the last one. He grimaced and shook his hand to ease the soreness as Drew nervously faced Miss Masterson. He couldn\u2019t manage to be as stoic as Tom and yipped his way through his caning. When it was over and it appeared to be his turn, Pat swallowed hard and stepped up, but Miss Masterson, stopped him and faced the other two boys.<\/p>\n

\u201cBoys, I believe you owe Patrick an apology.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes wide, Pat stared. He glanced at the other two boys. They offered grudging \u201csorrys\u201d, uncomfortably flexing their hands. Pat sighed in relief, his heartbeat slowing down a little then his heart stopped altogether as he heard the next statement from Miss Masterson.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, I want to make it very clear that I will not tolerate fighting. As such I cannot absolve you completely; you did throw the first punch. Hold out your left hand, palm up.\u201d<\/p>\n

His shocked eyes met hers, then his grit kicked in.\u00a0 Lowering his black brows, he resolutely shoved his hand straight out at her, steeling himself and staring straight into her face, his chin raised in defiance.<\/p>\n

He flinched in shocked pain as the cane cracked down on his palm, and it took every ounce of grit he could muster to not pull his hand away.\u00a0Son of a \u2026..that\u00a0hurts<\/strong>!<\/em>\u00a0He waited, scowling and seething with resentment, but there was no further blow.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Patrick. In the future, if there is any recurrence, you will receive three strokes. Is that understood?\u201d she said very sternly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he grunted, gritting his teeth against the sting in his hand as he allowed it to drop to his side, fighting the urge to shake it<\/p>\n

\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d<\/p>\n

He glanced at her angry face and exhaled in frustration. \u201cYes, ma\u2019am,\u201d he muttered. He squirmed a bit under her severe gaze, grateful when she finally turned to the other two.<\/p>\n

\u201cAndrew, Thomas, you may be dismissed. Patrick, have a seat. I want to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat watched in envy as the other two gathered their books and coats and left, smirking at him as they trooped out the door. He turned back to Miss Masterson and stubbornly remained standing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI asked you to sit down,\u201d she said sternly.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s jaw jutted out obstinately and he stood still.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you need another lesson, young man?\u201d she asked with quiet but very clear firmness.<\/p>\n

Pat reddened, still keenly aware of the sting in his left hand, and after a moment, plopped himself, sullenly, into the desk in front of her. Sighing, she sat down at the desk across the aisle from him. \u201cNow, what was all that about?\u201d she asked, gesturing back to the aisle where the fight had occurred.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey tripped me,\u201d he said, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the desktop.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd that was reason enough to start a fight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEnough for me!\u201d he snapped, raising his head and glaring at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cMind your tone of voice, Patrick,\u201d she warned.<\/p>\n

He bit back a retort, and stared at the desktop, still irked. She could see that he was upset and angry, and realized this probably wasn\u2019t a good time, but she knew he had to be made to understand what acceptable behavior in the classroom was and what was not.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere will be no fighting in this classroom. I don\u2019t care what you think provoked it. If you have a problem with one of the other children, you will either handle it in a civilized manner, or you may come to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can fight my own battles,\u201d he retorted hotly, stung.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot in my classroom!\u201d she snapped back.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I ain\u2019t gonna let nobody walk all over me!\u201d he hollered, clambering to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps not, but apparently you\u00a0will<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0allow them to make you lose your temper and get exactly what they want!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019sat supposed ta mean?\u201d demanded Pat, stung, feeling confused and more attacked and at a disadvantage than ever.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey wanted you in trouble, and that\u2019s what they got,\u201d she reasoned coldly. \u201cYou walked right into it, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

He started to bite back a reply, then thought about what she said. She was right. They\u2019d gotten the reaction they wanted; they\u2019d gotten him mad.\u00a0And<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0into trouble. She watched as he wrestled with this, then rose to her feet and moved in front of him. She reached out and gently grasped his forearm.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, I know this is hard. I know you don\u2019t want to be here, and I realize that getting along with those boys is going to be awfully difficult. But you might as well accept it. There are going to be many times you\u2019ll have to live and work with people you might not like or have trouble getting along with.\u00a0 But it\u2019s time you learned some self-control. You\u2019re a very bright young man. I\u2019m sure you can come up with a better way to solve your problems than with your fists.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat struggled for a moment, wishing he could let down his guard and confide in her all his fears and worries, her obvious caring and kindness cracking his protective emotional shell. But his temper was still too hot, and his pride too bruised. He knew she was waiting for a response, but all he could manage was a sulky nod.<\/p>\n

She glanced at the window and saw the dark clouds gathering. She turned and looked at the boy. \u201cYou\u2019d better get going. That sky doesn\u2019t look good, and you have a long ride home,\u201d she said. He nodded and followed her toward the door. She watched as he stopped at his desk, gathering his books and his slate, slipping the book strap around them while favoring his left hand. He looked so defeated, it just about broke her heart.<\/p>\n

At the coat racks, she stopped him, turned him toward her and reached out, picking up his left hand. Startled, he looked at her, wondering what she was going to do. There was still an angry red welt across his palm. \u201cDo you think you\u2019ve learned your lesson? Is losing your temper worth this?\u201d she questioned him seriously, tapping his palm, carefully avoiding the reddened streak.<\/p>\n

\u201cI dunno. I guess not,\u201d Pat muttered, glumly, finding himself unable to look at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cThink you can figure a better way to handle it next time?\u201d she asked kindly, patting and then releasing his hand.<\/p>\n

He shrugged, uncomfortably.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you try?\u201d<\/p>\n

He heard the gentleness in her voice, and it touched him. He swallowed hard, feeling a catch in his throat and his eyes burning. Sighing unhappily, he finally looked at her and saw her tender concern. \u201cYes, ma\u2019am,\u201d he admitted quietly, dropping his eyes.<\/p>\n

She nodded, pleased, thinking perhaps she\u2019d reached him, just a little. \u201cGood. Don\u2019t forget your homework: a paragraph on the battle of Bull Run. I\u2019ll see you tomorrow,\u201d she nodded, smiling.<\/p>\n

Tomorrow. Another miserable day.<\/em>\u00a0Pat sighed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, and trudged out the door. Liz watched him go, biting her lip in worry.<\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

Adam trotted into the yard one very tired man. He and Joe had worked hard moving some of the cattle down from the snow-bound north pasture into the flats, near the creek. They\u2019d been scattered far and wide and it had taken a lot of time in the saddle. Adam ached from his hair to his toenails as he dismounted and walked Sport to the barn.<\/p>\n

He was also mentally tired from worrying about how Pat\u2019s day had gone; Joe had left him alone after getting snapped at for his first three tries at conversation. Adam felt a bit bad about that, and resolved to apologize to his younger brother when he got in.<\/p>\n

He saw that Black Jack was in his stall and was grateful for that much at least; Pat hadn\u2019t run off! That morning he hadn\u2019t been too sure.<\/p>\n

Joe entered the barn, nearly as weary and sore as his older brother, and frowned a bit as he saw Adam currying Sport. He didn\u2019t want another repeat of this morning. Adam had had a burr under his saddle all day and Joe realized early on that giving him some space was the best route to take. But that hadn\u2019t stopped his older brother from working him nearly every moment they were out there, raising a good amount of brotherly resentment.<\/p>\n

Silently, Joe uncinched his saddle and removed it from Cochise\u2019s back, hauling it over to the saddle racks. Adam glanced at him and sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe,\u201d he said quietly, not looking at his younger brother. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I was so rough on you this morning. I guess I had things on my mind. It wasn\u2019t fair of me to take that out on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Surprised, Joe looked up at him. He could imagine what kind of \u2018things!\u2019 He sighed and nodded. \u201cNo problem, older brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam nodded, and the tension eased. They were almost finished when the barn door opened and Ben entered, shivering. He\u2019d hurried across the yard, not bothering to slip on his coat.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood, you\u2019re back,\u201d he smiled, swinging his arms. \u201cSupper\u2019s ready.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about the chores?\u201d asked Adam, surprised.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat and I have already done them, boys, so just come on in and get washed up,\u201d said Ben gruffly, not looking at his oldest son, and turned to leave.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Pa,\u201d called Adam, as he slapped Sport\u2019s haunches to move him into his stall. \u201cHow is he?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben turned back, sighing; he\u2019d hoped to avoid this. \u201cHe\u2019s had a difficult day, Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam closed his eyes and shook his head. \u201cHow bad?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben set his mouth and started for the door, stopping with his hand on the latch. \u201cI think you\u2019d better let him tell you,\u201d he answered quietly, then left the barn, leaving his oldest son standing there staring after him in dismay.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat sat at the dining room table, his books spread out before him, elbows on the table and his chin resting on his hands. His paper was blank, except for his name.<\/p>\n

His mind was as far away from Manassas Junction, Virginia, as it could possibly be, whirling with memories of his old neighborhood, where he fervently wished he was right now.<\/p>\n

Adam glanced up from his book as he sat in the great room, and sighed, studying his son. Pat was a picture of unhappiness. Not for the first time tonight, Adam wondered if he\u2019d made the right decision in forcing him to go to school this year.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah, I had a wonderful day,\u201d Pat had muttered when his father asked him how school had gone, then reluctantly pushed his sore hand out for his father to see.<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam had gently examined his hand. \u201cHurt much?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhadda you think?\u201d grunted Pat, flinching as Adam touched the welt.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon,\u201d Adam sighed, walking him into the kitchen to apply some salve. He wished he had a healing salve for his boy\u2019s wounded pride. It took some doing, but he finally wormed the full story out of Patrick. He decided that he wouldn\u2019t lecture him. The boy wouldn\u2019t have listened to a word of it, anyway. He merely asked if Pat was all right and if he understood why he\u2019d been punished.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t stupid,\u201d the boy had grunted irritably, wincing as Adam gently rubbed the salve into the welt. \u201cOw…\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cSorry.\u201d Adam set the jar of salve down and replaced the lid, then looked seriously at his son. \u201cPat, I\u2019m sorry you had such a rough day. But you can\u2019t let those two get to you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat sullenly flexed his sore hand. \u201cNone o\u2019 this woulda happened if you woulda just let me stay home!\u201d he muttered.<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam had nothing to reply to that and rose to his feet, walking to the pump. He got himself a glass of water, something to fill the silence between him and his son.<\/em><\/p>\n

Stubbornly, Pat had refused to cut him any slack and kept still.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have much homework?\u201d asked Adam.<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat shrugged.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI asked you a question, son, and I expect a decent answer,\u201d said Adam, quietly.<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat looked up slowly, his eyes full of hurt. \u201cYeah, I got some.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you need some help?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d he snapped. Then he flushed a little, relented and with his head down, muttered, \u201c\u2026thank you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam gave up and set his water glass down next to the drain board. \u201cYou\u2019d better get to work. It\u2019ll be time for bed soon,\u201d he said, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.<\/em><\/p>\n

Now, half an hour later, Patrick was no further along than he\u2019d been when he first sat down. Adam quietly got to his feet and walked behind his son. Pat heard him coming and stiffened slightly. He expected a scolding. Instead, he was startled to feel his father\u2019s large, strong hands gently massaging his shoulders. Pat closed his eyes and struggled to keep his anger in place but found it dissolving along with his tension as Adam kneaded the stiff, taut muscles, giving his son several quiet, gentle moments of silent support. When he finished rubbing, he squeezed his son\u2019s shoulders in comfort.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you can do this, Pat,\u201d said Adam, gently, and again left him to his work.<\/p>\n

Pat sighed. He picked up his pencil and began to write.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[1]<\/a>\u00a0From Patrick\u2019s exploits in \u201cAs Ye Sow,\u201d by Pat Thompson-Dumas<\/em><\/p>\n

[2]<\/a>\u00a0ibid<\/u><\/em><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER FOUR<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The bouncing and jostling of the stagecoach was lulling Hoss Cartwright into a doze, something he didn\u2019t want to do as he knew \u2013 thanks to his brothers! \u2013 that he always snored pretty loudly. But it had been a long trip, and the big man was uncomfortable. He glanced over at his seat mate, Corrigan, who was staring out the window. Hoss was amazed at the man. He\u2019d barely moved through the whole trip. He kept his energy contained, his movements to a minimum. He was nearly as tall as Hoss but didn\u2019t seem to be exhibiting any of the same restlessness.<\/p>\n

Sighing, Hoss leaned back again. His eyes fell on two perky green ones, making him grin.<\/p>\n

\u201cKind of cramped in here, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

She\u2019s real cute!<\/em>\u00a0 He figured her to be around his nephew Patrick\u2019s age, and pretty as a picture with her long, curly brown hair and those big green eyes. She was small-boned and delicate looking, but there was a certain amount of deviltry in those eyes that reminded Hoss of his little brother, Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cYep,\u201d he nodded in response, \u201cshore is. I guess it\u2019s more cramped fer me than you, little lady.\u201d<\/p>\n

She grinned. \u201cYeah, I\u2019d say,\u201d she grinned, bobbing her head. \u201cWhy are you going to Virginia City?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWendy!\u201d chided the other passenger, a lovely dark-haired woman. Back at the time they\u2019d all boarded, Hoss had noted her natural reserve, a trait that reminded him\u00a0 a lot of his older brother.\u00a0 But there also seemed to be something\u2026 well, something kinda sad about her, and he\u2019d let her be beyond being respectful and polite as his Pa had taught him.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I\u2019m just being friendly, Mama,\u201d protested the young girl.<\/p>\n

\u201cLeave the gentleman alone,\u201d the woman warned, her smile gentle but her tone firm.\u00a0 Wendy glanced at Hoss and shrugged, flashing him a devilish grin.<\/p>\n

Corrigan, too, had brought his eyes away from the countryside and smiled at the little girl, then caught the eyes of the woman. \u201cYour daughter, ma\u2019am?\u201d he smiled softly. \u201cA charming child, she is.\u201d<\/p>\n

The young girl beamed at him, innocently, but between the older man and the wee lass\u00a0 passed a knowing look that tickled the older man; a hoyden, this one, was, to be sure!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your name, lass?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWendy Carter, sir,\u201d she grinned, managing a seated curtsey, to the older man\u2019s delight. \u201cWhat\u2019s yours?\u201d<\/p>\n

He chuckled, smiling at her, and mirroring her curtsey with a mocked seated bow. \u201cEamon Corrigan, at yer service, ma\u2019am. And is this yer sainted mother, Miss Carter?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d she laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWendy, honestly,\u201d chided her mother, but with a trace of a smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, ma\u2019am, she ain\u2019t no trouble. Helps to pass the time to have a conversation,\u201d offered Hoss, warmly.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m Hoss Cartwright, ma\u2019am.\u201d He held out his big hand to the woman.<\/p>\n

The woman sighed, and smiled, shaking his hand in return. \u201cHow do you do, Mr. Cartwright. I\u2019m Veronica Carter,\u201d she answered finally, a small smile lighting her face. With the sorrow-tinged expression gone, Mrs. Carter had a lovely face.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what might be bringin\u2019 ye to Nevada, Mrs. Carter?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFamily business, Mr. Corrigan,\u201d she said quietly, the animation gone again from her countenance. Wendy glanced at her mother and grew quiet, too. But the irrepressible imp wasn\u2019t quiet for long. Once she established that Hoss was from the Virginia City area, she peppered him with questions about everything under the sun, giving the young man little rest for the final two hours of the journey home.<\/p>\n

Corrigan listened in as Hoss described his family: his father, obviously a strong-handed patriarch who apparently held the purse-strings; a younger brother, hot-headed and impetuous. Corrigan wondered if there might be some use for that one in his scheme somewhere.<\/p>\n

And an older brother with a youthful son. The older brother concerned Corrigan; an educated, canny individual, smart as a whip and taken in by very little. Corrigan would have to be careful around that one.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your nephew\u2019s name, Mr. Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick,\u201d smiled Hoss, thinking fondly of his brother\u2019s scapegrace son.<\/p>\n

\u201cA fine Irish name, that!\u201d grinned Eamon, a bit surprised. How in the name o\u2019 Brid had a Celtic name the like o\u2019that filtered into a family so clearly Orange?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPat\u2019s mother was Irish,\u201d nodded Hoss, quietly.\u00a0 The previously open and accessible personality of the big man seemed to draw in like shutters closing before a rainstorm.\u00a0 The change in the big man\u2019s jovial attitude kept Corrigan from asking further about the boy\u2019s mother and cast a slight pall over the coach. On everyone but Wendy, that is.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow old is he?\u201d Wendy asked as they bounced along.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s fourteen\u2026fourteen goin\u2019 on forty, his pa says.\u201d Hoss brightened a little at the thought of his irrepressible nephew.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s only a little older than me!\u201d she grinned, excited, her eyes wide. \u201cI\u2019ll be fourteen in a few months.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, there ya go. A friend already!\u201d chuckled Hoss. He resolved to remember to tell Pat about her;\u00a0 they were two of a kind! They oughta get on like wildfire!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe galloped into the outer Virginia City limits as though the devils of hell were chasing him, but the grin on his face made it clear that there was no trouble; he was merely enjoying this first break in the weather and letting Cochise have her head. He reined her in as he drew closer to the town\u2019s streets where women and youngsters were walking, and drew in a deep breath of the cold, crisp air.<\/p>\n

With Patrick in school now and Pa, Adam, and the hands hooking up with George Devlin\u2019s crew to try to double-team a sweep of the canyons and pastures around both their spreads, he\u2019d been allowed to stay home and do the yard chores and then come into town to gather the mail and order some supplies.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish I\u2019d thought to ask Pat to stop on his way to school this morning,\u201d Ben grumbled as he slipped his gunbelt on and buckled it, \u201cbut he was already gone by the time it occurred to me.\u201d He\u00a0 picked up a fat envelope wrapped in string and handed it to Joe. \u201cThis has to be at the bank by 3:00 o\u2019clock closing, Joseph, so see to it there\u2019s no lollygagging today, clear?<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, Pa,\u201d sighed Joe. When will Pa see I\u2019m not a kid anymore? <\/em>He\u2019d hoped that Pat\u2019s presence might make his father realize that he had somehow become an adult in the last few years! Instead, Pa seemed to see the two youngest Cartwrights as contemporaries and Joe found it increasingly irritating.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam left a list of supplies we need out in the barn next to the harness rack. And while you\u2019re in town, get your hair cut. Three o\u2019clock, mind,\u201d Ben reminded him, one bushy grey-black brow raised at him, eyeing his abundant curls.\u00a0 Joe managed to smile as his father went out the door. Rolling his eyes, Joe turned back to his breakfast and planned his day.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d finished the barn chores; split and stacked several logs for the house\u2019s wood supply; repaired the tack waiting to be laced for nearly three weeks since Hoss had gone to San Francisco. He\u2019d even managed to tidy his room. When all his chores were finished, a glance at the clock told Joe he had plenty of time to get into town for the three o\u2019clock deadline hanging over his head. Maybe he\u2019d finally shut up that smart-alecky Adam!<\/p>\n

Looking around him, he saw that the townspeople were enjoying the pleasant weather, too, and were out in force. He went first to the bank and did his job there, then walked on over to the mercantile, conveniently turning his head away as he walked by the barbershop.\u00a0 Pa\u2019d been after him for a week to get a haircut.\u00a0 Joe planned to put it off as long as humanly possible.<\/p>\n

Once inside, he was greeted by Bill Jenkins, the owner of the mercantile, and a long-time friend of the family.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Joe! What\u2019s new?\u201d grinned the man, easily lifting a huge case of canned peaches onto the shelf.\u00a0 He smiled at is youngest son, Jeff, kindly asking the young man to unpack them.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll tell ya, this warm weather is the newest thing I\u2019ve seen in a dog\u2019s age,\u201d observed\u00a0 Joe, handing over the list Adam had made out. \u201cGotta order some supplies, Bill.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe grinned and looked around, figuring it would take about half an hour to get the list filled. He felt proud of himself; he\u2019d accomplished everything and still had time to get a good look at the new shirts that Bill had gotten in from San Francisco. They were supposed to the be newest fashions for men, straight from New York, and before there, from Paris. Joe took great pride in being one of the best-dressed young men in Virginia City when he was dandied up, and it meant a lot to him, especially now. Elizabeth Masters was from Connecticut. Iin his mind, that was close enough to New York City to be near as nothing, and he decided that one way to her heart would be to dress debonairly when around her.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned as he heard his name and smiled broadly as the lady in question stood beside him, her arms filled with books and papers. School must have just let out. His broad smile faded a bit as he saw her concerned expression. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong, Liz?\u201d<\/p>\n

She sighed, frowning. \u201cI\u2019m not completely sure, but I wanted to see if you\u2019d noticed anything \u2026. oh, I don\u2019t know, different lately about Patrick.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes widened a bit in surprise. \u201cDifferent? How?\u201d<\/p>\n

She sighed. \u201cHe\u2019s been having quite a bit of trouble the last day or two. I can\u2019t quite put my finger on exactly why, though I have a pretty good suspicion.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe thought about it for a moment and realized that Pat had been pretty quiet the last couple of days. He\u2019d gone to his room early each evening, claiming he had homework to do; apparently, there were other things going on.<\/p>\n

Joe glanced at Bill, who was still filling out his order. He turned back to Liz. \u201cWould you like to go over to the caf\u00e9 and talk about it over some coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled in relief. \u201cYes, I think that would be a very good idea,\u201d she nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cBill, I\u2019ll be back in about forty-five minutes, okay?\u201d he called over his shoulder as he headed toward the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure. In fact, if you leave the buckboard out front \u2014”<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s eyes widened for a moment and then closed. He shook his head, irritated.\u00a0 The buckboard\u2026<\/em> oh, hell!<\/em><\/strong> He smiled weakly. \u201cActually, Bill, just set \u2018em aside and I\u2019ll be back in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

He blushed his way out the door, Bill Jenkins\u2019 laughter ringing in his ears.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s failing?!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Joe stared at Liz in amazement. \u201cBut how can he be failing? He\u2019s been in school less than a week!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI said he\u2019s in danger<\/em> of failing, Joe,\u201d she corrected him, playing with her spoon. She set it down and looked up at him, her soft brown eyes troubled. \u201cHe knows exactly how much work he has to do just to squeak by, and that\u2019s all he\u2019s doing. That doesn\u2019t leave him much margin for error. He simply refuses to try.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d breathed Joe, leaning back. \u201cHe was doing so well at home, it just doesn\u2019t make sense!\u00a0 Adam seemed to think he was pretty smart.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, he\u2019s smart all right,\u201d she said wryly. She leaned forward. \u201cToo smart for his own good. I think he\u2019s deliberately holding back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy the heck would he do something like that? Adam\u2019ll kill him!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think \u2026\u201d\u00a0 She hesitated, then glanced at the young man beside her, her eyes troubled.\u00a0 \u201cIn addition to simply not wanting to be there, I believe he\u2019s trying not to excel so that the other children will accept him,\u201d she said softly.<\/p>\n

Joe stared at her in surprise, then sobered. That makes sense,<\/em> he had to admit to himself. He could remember, when he was in school, how everyone had hated the class brain, Grace Miller. She was always the best speller, always winning the arithmetic prize, always winning the history prize. No one could stand her.\u00a0 It had never occurred to Joe that the kids might look at Pat that way.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s having a hard time making friends. He\u2019s even alienated young Micah Devlin, with whom he was friendly that first day. But what disturbs me most is that he simply won\u2019t try. He\u2019s not working anywhere near his potential.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s that bright?” he asked, thinking hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf he worked at it, he could lead his class in a number of subjects,\u201d she nodded. \u201cI\u2019d truly hoped we\u2019d get off to a good start. On Monday, he struggled a bit, getting used to unfamiliar things, but he seemed to be settling into a routine by the end of the day. Then he got into a scuffle with a couple of the other boys, and I had to deal with him severely.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe caning,\u201d remembered Joe, recalling Monday evening.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth sighed. \u201cYes. Did that upset him so badly?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe nodded. \u201cYeah, he was pretty resentful. Adam sure had his hands full with him that night.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sighed and sagged in her seat. \u201cPerhaps I handled that badly. I needed to make it clear that I wouldn\u2019t tolerate nonsense like that in my classroom. I think I hurt his pride more than his hand. But I\u2019m guessing his pride was already pretty bruised.\u201d\u00a0 She sat up straighter again, her pretty brow wrinkled as she worked to find the words to try to explain the situation to Joe.\u00a0 \u201cYou see, the children were more than usually – oh, I don\u2019t know, reserved, perhaps? \u2013 towards him on that first day.\u00a0 They weren\u2019t unkind to him, but they were…\u201d She shrugged, helplessly. \u201cIt was almost like they were in awe of him.\u00a0 But I don\u2019t think he understood it and felt very unsure and out of place.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe thought about that.\u00a0 \u201cI wonder why.\u201d<\/p>\n

She twisted her mouth, one eyebrow raised. \u201cWell, I was chatting with the pastor the other day and when he asked about any new families or students, I mentioned Pat.\u00a0 That\u2019s when he told me the whole story about what happened last fall.\u00a0 I think there was some kind of hero worship going on with the younger children. But when Pat didn\u2019t respond, they saw him as being stand-offish and aloof.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe whistled.\u00a0 \u201cThat makes sense.\u00a0 And it pretty much explains the fight with the older boys, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded, sadly.\u00a0 \u201cWell, the next day, everything really began to go downhill.\u00a0 He walked in on Tuesday with a chip on his shoulder, almost daring anyone to talk to him.\u00a0 That escalated to him being rude and sarcastic with the other children, mocking them when they do poorly. I\u2019m sure he\u2019s deliberately using the worst possible grammar. He hasn\u2019t turned in a homework assignment in days. Yesterday, he rather nastily butchered one of the other boys when he mixed up a few historical facts making an admittedly ridiculous recitation in class.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe winced, knowing exactly how devasting Pat\u2019s tongue could be.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd all the while, doing as poorly in his own work as he possibly can. So, the other children became angry. Now, he\u2019s practically being shunned. I can tell his feelings are badly hurt.\u00a0 He simply can\u2019t understand what the problem is.\u201d She thoughtfully shook her head. \u201cHe\u2019s clearly not used to this kind of interaction with other children. Poor boy, he\u2019s so confused, but he\u2019s making everything so much worse.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe sighed and leaned back in his chair sipping his coffee. \u201cWhat do you think we ought to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I was rather hoping you\u2019d let your brother know about this recent change in his behavior. I sent a note home, but it would appear Patrick didn\u2019t give it to his father. Perhaps you\u2019d ask Adam to come by the school one afternoon soon? I really need to speak to him about this and see what we can work out together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, sure, Liz. But what I was wonderin\u2019, what could I<\/em> do to help?\u201d he murmured, leaning a little closer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you could set Patrick a good example,\u201d she said with a smile.<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s eyes widened in surprise, and he sat back. \u201cWhaddya mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust that. Set a good example. \u2018What do you mean,\u2019 instead of \u2018Whaddya mean?\u2019 Make sure you use proper grammar when you\u2019re around him. Make a point of doing your best when he\u2019s around.\u201d She sighed. \u201cI don\u2019t know if that will help, but at least it will let him see how he\u2019s supposed to behave.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe frowned, thinking. \u201cYou really think it\u2019ll make a difference for me to do all that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, if you don\u2019t want to – \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no! I\u2019ll do whatever you think best,\u201d he said seriously, inwardly wilting.<\/p>\n

She beamed at him. \u201cOh, I\u2019m so glad!\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe grinned back at her. How could he resist that pretty smile? \u201cI\u2019ll let Adam know what you\u2019ve told me,\u201d he said, choosing his words with care. \u201cIf you\u2019d like, I\u2019ll come by and give you a report every couple of days to let you know how he\u2019s faring at home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Liz nodded, pleased he was already making an effort. \u201cThat would be wonderful, Joe! I\u2019m so glad you realize that this is a serious problem for Pat. If we don\u2019t get this straightened out soon, he\u2019ll be too far behind to catch up. I don\u2019t want to see him ruin his chances for success in school by mishandling this so early on.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019ll be happy to help any way I can. And who knows,\u201d he grinned, laying some bills on the table, \u201cmaybe you\u2019re right and some of it\u2019ll end up rubbing off on him!\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled gratefully. After a few more minutes of chatting, she glanced at the watch pinned to her lapel and rose, apologizing that she had another appointment. He watched her go and his expression grew serious. Watch my grammar, watch my behavior\u2026Can I do this?<\/em> Joe drew in a deep breath and set his jaw. If it keeps her smiling at me like that, I\u2019ll do anything I have to do!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Though Wendy chattered all the way into Virginia City, keeping them in stitches with her stories and questions, Hoss still was glad to see the town limits looming ahead. His back and legs ached from being cramped for so long, and he\u2019d been awful homesick. He missed his father, brothers, and nephew something fierce\u2026Hop Sing\u2019s cooking, too!\u00a0 He\u2019d spent most of the morning wondering what might have happened in his absence.<\/p>\n

Corrigan glanced at his watch as the driver halted the horses in front of the stage station; right on time. Hoss swung his big body out first, stretching a moment in relief before turning to help Mrs. Carter down.<\/p>\n

\u201cCould you use a hand with your luggage, ma\u2019am?\u201d he asked kindly, giving a hand to young Wendy as she stepped down too.<\/p>\n

Veronica hesitated for a moment, then smiled, tiredly. \u201cI would be most grateful, Mr. Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, ma\u2019am\u2026Mr. Cartwright\u2019s my Pa. I\u2019m just Hoss,\u201d he said, a little self-consciously. \u201cI\u2019d be happy to help ya. Do you have rooms arranged, ma\u2019am?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u2026 Hoss. I\u2019ve wired ahead to a Mrs. Hawkins, apparently she runs a boarding house nearby?\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes widened a moment, then grinned. \u201cYes, ma\u2019am, she sure does! The Widow Hawkins runs the best-kept boardin\u2019 house in Virginia City. Most interestin\u2019, too!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss!\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss turned as he saw the Ponderosa buckboard pull up with Ben at the reins, a big smile on his face. Ben pulled up, and hustled down, clapping his middle son on the arm fondly, then gripped his son\u2019s hand, shaking it warmly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve missed you, boy!\u201d he said with a hearty smile. \u201cIt\u2019s good to have you home!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood to be home, Pa, I\u2019ll tell you. I was beginning to wonder if my britches was ever gonna get disconnected from that stage!\u201d Hoss colored suddenly as he remembered Veronica Carter standing beside him. \u201cBeggin\u2019 your pardon, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

Veronica laughed. \u201cThat\u2019s quite all right. I believe I understand exactly what you mean!\u201d Hoss politely introduced the young widow and her daughter to Ben, who made them welcome.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, you mind if I borrow the buckboard fer a minute to bring Miz Carter\u2019s luggage over to the Widow Hawkins\u2019s?\u201d asked Hoss, tentatively.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Widow Hawkins\u2019s?\u201d asked Ben, paling a little. \u201cUh certainly not, you go right ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss grinned a little at his father\u2019s discomfort. Clementine Hawkins had been making plays for years to become the fourth Mrs. Cartwright, and Ben tended to do his best to shy away from any meetings with her. Hoss glanced up as the driver began to hand down luggage and remembered Corrigan.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Pa, I plumb forgot,\u201d Hoss said hastily, accepting his carpetbag, then gesturing to the tall older Irishman at his side. \u201cPa, this here\u2019s Mr. Corrigan. He\u2019s looking to talk to some of the mine owners here in Virginia City about some investments. I said we\u2019d be glad to introduce him around.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben eyed the man, sizing him up as he held out a hand. \u201cMr. Corrigan.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA pleasure it \u2018tis, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d smiled Corrigan, accepting Ben\u2019s hand and shaking it warmly. \u201cYer son was kind, he was, very kind to offer his help in my meeting several of the citizens of your fine town.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben nodded, shooting a quick glance at his friendly, heart-wide-open middle son.\u00a0 \u201cHoss is, without a doubt, committed to making people feel welcome and at home,\u201d he nodded, with a smile.\u00a0 Sometimes to a fault.<\/em><\/p>\n

Eamon sensed the wheels turning behind the dark eyes of the man before him and realized this Cartwright was no fool; he\u2019d have to make sure he was well-prepared any time he chose to joust with this one.<\/p>\n

\u201cYa know, Pa, you\u2019d be even more of a help to Mr. Corrigan than me,\u201d remarked Hoss, while loading Mrs. Carter\u2019s baggage into the buckboard. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you two go on over to the hotel and talk some while I haul this yonder to the Widow\u2019s? I\u2019ll catch up with ya there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan eyed the elder Cartwright. \u201cWell, sure and I could be usin\u2019 a cup of tea, Mr. Cartwright. That trip left me a mite parched, don\u2019t ye know. Might I interest ye in some refreshment?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben smiled, both grateful for the chance to further size up this man, as well as avoiding a trip to Clementine\u2019s. \u201cNot a bad idea, Mr. Corrigan. All right, Hoss, you go on ahead with Mrs. Carter and her daughter, and we\u2019ll be waiting at the hotel restaurant.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure thing, Pa,\u201d grinned Hoss as he handed Mrs. Carter up into the buckboard, then swung Wendy up beside her. \u201cThere you go, missy!\u201d<\/p>\n

Laughing, Wendy grinned at the big man as he got up beside her, flicked the reins and got the team going. Ben smiled fondly as he watched his son, then turned back to Corrigan, waving an arm in the other direction. \u201cShall we go, Mr. Corrigan?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo be sure, Mr. Cartwright, to be sure,\u201d nodded Corrigan. He turned to one of several skinny youngsters waiting, hopefully, to earn a nickel carrying bags. He tossed a two-bit piece at a smaller, red-headed boy, whose eyes widened in shocked amazement at the coin. \u201cWould ye be interested in carryin\u2019 me bags to the International House, lad?\u201d he winked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir!\u201d crowed the small boy, pocketing the money and manfully lugging the baggage behind him as he followed the two men down the street.<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER FIVE<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A cold snap had descended again on the Nevada Territory, with an early March snow blanketing the ground from the Sierra Nevadas west to Lake Tahoe. When Pat sleepily hauled himself upright in bed that morning, he saw his breath in his bedroom, and groaned, snuggling back under the covers. He relaxed for a moment, content in the warmth of his cozy bed, then frowned.\u00a0 The memory of the night before chilled him far worse than the tendrils of cold air seeping through the bedclothes.<\/p>\n

Somehow, Dad learned about his poor performance the last few days at school. He couldn\u2019t imagine how; Adam hadn\u2019t been to town, and he was sure Miss Masterson hadn\u2019t been out to the Ponderosa.\u00a0 All Pat did know knew was that all through supper last night his father had been deeply preoccupied. Even so, those dark hazel eyes would still find themselves studying him at intervals, making the boy uneasy.\u00a0 Even Uncle Hoss\u2019 stories and talk of his trip to San Francisco couldn\u2019t sidetrack the old man.\u00a0 San Francisco; Pat yearned to see that city, to be there an experience once again the hustle of a busy, crowded place. Frankly, right now he yearned to be anywhere but Nevada.<\/p>\n

Then, suddenly, after dessert was finished and Hop Sing began clearing the supper dishes, his family scattered.\u00a0 His grandfather announced he was going upstairs to his room to read and Uncle Joe and Uncle Hoss simply disappeared. The boy\u2019s uneasiness increased as his father made no move to rise. Pat drew in a breath, laid down his napkin and started to his feet until his father glanced up.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, sit down,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cWe need to have a little talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat looked at his father uncomfortably. \u2018A talk.\u2019\u00a0 When Dad said \u2018a talk\u2019 with that quiet voice and kinda closed expression on his face, that \u2018talk\u2019 usually translated to a lecture. Reluctantly, Pat slid back down into his seat and peered at Adam, his heart beating a little faster.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, what\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhaddya mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on at school?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick\u2019s stomach lurched but hoped his face betrayed nothing. \u201cDad, I dunno what-\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shot to his feet, bracing his fists against the table, leaning toward his young son. \u201cPatrick!\u201d His father\u2019s eyes bored into him, two small spots of color staining his
\ncheekbones. \u00a0\u201cDo not<\/em> make this worse by lying to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat squirmed a little, uneasily. How did he find out?<\/em> he wondered. How in God\u2019s name does Dad always seem to know<\/strong>? <\/em>\u00a0Pat tried shooting for sympathy. \u201cIt\u2019s too hard,\u201d he said softly, trying to sound unhappy and confused, and was almost surprised to realize he didn\u2019t have to fake them. He felt them. Deeply.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, please.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam closed his eyes for a moment, then waved a hand derisively, walking around the table to come up beside his boy. \u201cYou\u2019ve been working well beyond your grade level for a month. I know, I\u2019ve watched you do it. Now, all of a sudden, you\u2019re barely able to complete an assignment that you could have done in your sleep a week ago. Answer me, and this time I want the truth! What<\/em> is going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

Obstinately, Pat sat staring at the tablecloth.<\/p>\n

Equally as stubborn, Adam stood and studied him; implacable, immovable, waiting. But he could see the confusion, the discomfort.\u00a0 He\u2019s\u2026 if I didn\u2019t know better, I\u2019d say he looks trapped. Surely it can\u2019t be just because he got caught in this lie?\u00a0 Pat\u2019s braver than that.\u00a0 What on earth<\/strong> is this all about?<\/em><\/p>\n

For several long moments there was silence at the table, and finally Pat raised his eyes, helplessly, at his father. Adam\u2019s expression was sorrowful and disappointed. Flushing in shame, Pat dropped his eyes again and sighed. \u201cI dunno,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot good enough, buddy,\u201d said Adam quietly.<\/p>\n

Uncomfortably, Pat shifted in his seat. \u201cI toldja<\/em><\/strong> I didn\u2019t want to go!\u201d he ground out, irritably.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I told you<\/em><\/strong> that you were going, like it or not,\u201d retorted Adam, leaning forward steepling his fingers. \u201cI also thought we had an agreement that you\u2019d do your best, even though you didn\u2019t want to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well that\u2019s easy to say. It ain\u2019t easy to do,\u201d muttered Pat, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause everybody hates me!\u201d the boy snapped, finally looking up and glaring at his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Pat, c\u2019mon,\u201d sighed Adam, shaking his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, they do! And I hate them<\/em>, too! I ain\u2019t goin\u2019 back!!\u201d growled Pat, starting to rise to his feet.<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s hand shot out and gripped his son\u2019s arm tightly.<\/p>\n

\u201cSit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat glared at him and was met with a very firm expression.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said, sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Defiantly, Pat tried to pull away, but Adam gripped him harder, until Pat winced. Adam slowly and steadily increased the force of his grip until Pat gave in and reluctantly sat back down. Finally, Adam released him, and Pat sullenly rubbed his arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cSuppose you tell me what, exactly, doing as poorly as you possibly can in your lessons has to do with the other kids hating you,\u201d requested Adam, quietly. There was neither derision in his voice, nor anger. It was a simple question and the tone caught Pat off-guard. He looked up at his dad again, and seeing a benign expression rather than sternness or anger, he sighed and slumped in his seat.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, I hate school.\u201d Pat\u2019s voice was barely above a whisper. The face that a moment ago had been white with passion, was now red with embarrassment and shame. \u201cNobody likes me, I \u2013 I don\u2019t fit in. Everythin\u2019 I do is wrong. Like\u2026 like when I know answers to stuff, they think I\u2019m bein\u2019 a show-off.\u00a0 So, I thought\u2026\u201d Pat\u2019s voice trailed off his voice cracking in betrayal.\u00a0 He pressed his lips together, trying to keep them steady, and shook his head.<\/p>\n

And there it is,<\/em> Adam winced, closing his eyes at memories of his own struggles as a youngster.\u00a0 Oh, Pat\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t\u00a0 – I can\u2019t figure out to make \u2018em like me,\u201d the boy finished, in pained perplexity.<\/p>\n

Startled, Adam looked up at that and studied the youngster. Now that\u2019s an interesting choice of words.<\/em> \u201cSon, you don\u2019t make friends by trying to \u2018make\u2019 people like you,\u201d he began, reasonably.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlways worked before,\u201d sniffed Pat, frowning, his arms crossed stubbornly and blinking hard, trying to regain his composure.<\/p>\n

Adam pursed his lips and studied his boy, then pulled out the chair beside him.\u00a0 He eased into it, elbows on the table, and stroked his mouth a moment, thinking. \u201cTell me. Precisely how did you go about trying to make them like you? Your campaign apparently wasn\u2019t as successful as you\u2019d hoped.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat winced a little under his father\u2019s light sarcasm, and he bristled. \u00a0\u201cI already toldja, it don\u2019t matter.\u00a0 They just don\u2019t like me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSon, they don\u2019t even know you.\u00a0 Chances are it wasn\u2019t so much you<\/em> they didn\u2019t like as what it was you did<\/em>.\u201d \u00a0Adam tipped his head, encouragingly. \u201cSo, how about sharing that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat winced at the memories of the barbs from his classmates, especially Mike and Cassie, and shrugged, flushing again. \u201cSaid I was makin\u2019 fun of \u2018em,\u201d he grumbled.<\/p>\n

Uncomfortably, Pat shifted in his seat. Painful memories of the hurt looks on his classmates\u2019 faces as he made his cutting remarks and his arrogant expressions came back to haunt him, and his face grew hot.<\/p>\n

\u201cWere you?\u201d asked Adam, calmly.<\/p>\n

Squirming, he shrugged. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to,\u201d the boy finally answered defensively, though his tongue burned slightly at the lie that had just passed over it.\u00a0 He\u2019d known exactly what he was doing.\u00a0 He was using the tactics he\u2019d always used in New York to gain the respect and command that had been so hard won and even more fiercely sustained. The tactics of verbal jousting and warfare he\u2019d watched his mother and the Fenians use regularly, jockeying for position and political weight. \u00a0When something important was at stake, something as deeply important as one\u2019s position and status, that impenetrable fa\u00e7ade was more than a tool, it was armor!\u00a0 It was what kept weakness and vulnerability from putting someone at another\u2019s mercy. And it was the only way he knew.<\/p>\n

Pat saw his father was still waiting, and he erupted, frustrated beyond bearing with having to explain what he didn\u2019t and couldn\u2019t understand himself. \u201cNone of it matters anyhow! No matter what I do, it ain\u2019t right! I say the wrong things, I do the wrong things.\u201d He looked up at his father, beseechingly. \u201cDad, I just don\u2019t fit in there. Just let me come home!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, you can\u2019t hide here on the ranch forever,\u201d said Adam gently, hitching his chair a little closer to his son\u2019s, leaning forward on his elbows on his knees beside his boy. \u201cSooner or later, you\u2019re going to have to learn how to get along with kids your own age.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d demanded Pat, looking up angrily, his eyes shining, chin up self-protectively.<\/p>\n

As Adam perceived the deeply entrenched pain in his son\u2019s blue eyes, he grew alarmed to see this was a far more serious situation than he\u2019d realized. Scratching his ear, Adam frowned and tried again to find the words to help the boy understand. \u201cPat, you\u2019re a bright kid, smart as turpentine,\u201d he said seriously. \u201cBut from what you\u2019re telling me, you don\u2019t seem to have compassion for people who aren\u2019t as quick to learn as you. Do you know what compassion is?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat rolled his eyes and refused to look at his father.<\/p>\n

Adam adopted a stern tone of voice and delivered his next sentences very firmly. \u201cCompassion, Pat, is that ability to show mercy, and understanding, and forgiveness. Without it, I don\u2019t care how smart you are, how bright, how talented, you\u2019re less than half a person.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah, and you\u2019re just loaded with it, ain\u2019t ya?\u201d snapped Pat, lashing out nastily in his hurt, angry mood.<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s eyes narrowed as his son\u2019s dig hit its mark. It was true that for many years, particularly when he was younger, Adam had been guilty of the same kind of behavior, and even today many of the people he knew accused him of being holier-than-thou\u2026a know-it-all\u2026high and mighty, always putting on airs. Adam, too, had been older when he started school, but only because he and Hoss and Pa had never lived near a settlement that had one.<\/p>\n

Hearing Patrick\u2019s troubles reminded him of his own at that age; he, too, had been accused the same attitudes and had the same troubles making friends. His natural reticence and reserve was often misinterpreted as aloofness. Pat\u2019s cutting comment hit closer to home than he liked, but he refused to allow the boy to see it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not even going to rise to that, buster. It\u2019s unworthy of you. But it does give me a clearer understanding of the way you treat classmates. No wonder you\u2019re having trouble getting along with the other kids,\u201d he said coldly.<\/p>\n

Pat flushed, angrily. Verbal jousting with his father was a dangerous game to play; losing could be devastating. Pat had always been proud of his ability to tear an opponent to shreds with his words. Since arriving here on the Ponderosa, he had rarely engaged his father in a battle of words; the man was simply too good at it. Pat was losing again, and he didn\u2019t like it.<\/p>\n

Peevishly, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, from now on, you\u2019ll do your best in your lessons, or I\u2019ll want to know the reason why.\u201d Adam\u2019s voice was stern.<\/p>\n

He studied his son and sighed. Remember, Cartwright, he\u2019s confused and facing something he\u2019s never had to deal with before. He\u2019s feeling defeated and awfully alone. Yelling at him isn\u2019t going to help, any more than it did when Pa yelled at me.<\/em>\u00a0 Adam breathed in, willing himself to be calm and tried a gentler tone, working hard to get through the mule-stubborn head with the face that looked so much like his own.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want people to like you? Be a friend, not a competitor. Keep your belittling comments and your arrogant little glances to yourself. Stop trying to prove you\u2019re tougher than everyone else. Just relax and be <\/em><\/strong>yourself. You\u2019re the new kid. It\u2019s understandable that it\u2019s going to take a little time for them to get to know you, and for you to know them.\u00a0 That happens by talking, by letting down your
\nguard and being someone you\u2019d <\/em>want for a friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam watched the brows on the boy\u2019s face crease – the only indication that any of his words were filtering through his son\u2019s outrage – as he struggled to maintain his \u2018don\u2019t
\ncare\u2019 attitude.\u00a0 Everything else about the youngster\u2019s body was so tense, so tightly compressed, as though trying to ward off the perceived sharks in these dark, impenetrable and unknown waters that surrounded him. That\u2019s a familiar feeling\u2026 so, work with what you\u2019ve got, Cartwright.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLook, Pat, I\u2019ve been where you are more times than you have any idea. I spent my childhood in a wagon, remember?\u00a0 Traveling across the country.\u00a0 Sometimes we stayed in a town long enough for me to go to school for a few weeks.\u00a0 And that meant being the \u2018new kid\u2019 each and every time.\u00a0 Learning who was at the top of the picking order; who to avoid; who was a nice person; who liked the same things I did.\u00a0 Being scared of making mistakes or looking foolish.\u00a0 But the only way I could find that out which of those kids could possibly become a friend was by swallowing my fears and actually talking to them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Troubled, Pat continued to sulk, but his father\u2019s words pricked at his conscience. Dad was right; he had been trying hard to control the situation, not blend into the group that already existed there. He was just too used to running the pack. Back in Hell\u2019s Kitchen, he\u2019d been the leader of his group of friends for too many years to easily give that up and just be a follower like everyone else. It meant changing everything about himself, and he wasn\u2019t sure he could do it \u2026or if he even wanted to.<\/p>\n

\u201cKids are pretty much kids no matter where you go,\u201d his father said reasonably.\u00a0 \u201cYes, there are going to be the Tommy Sanders and Drew Norberts.\u00a0 Bullies exist in all walks of life, school\u2019s no different. But there are also going to be the Micahs and the Cassies,\u201d he smiled.\u00a0 \u201cThey\u2019re good friends to you.\u00a0 And you are to them\u2026 or used to be,\u201d he added, an eyebrow raised.<\/p>\n

Pat squirmed uncomfortably.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt sounds as though you have some bridges to repair there.\u00a0 But I believe you can do it you\u2019re honest with yourself and with them.\u00a0 After all, you\u2019re a likeable person, you know, when you allow yourself to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam finally sat back, figuring he\u2019d gotten as far as he could for this round. \u201cWhat kind of homework do you have tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat glanced at his father, toying with the idea of lying and saying he didn\u2019t have any. But if his father knew all about the stuff going on at school, it was likely he already knew he had a mountain of homework to do and was just testing him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHistory, arithmetic, spelling,\u201d he bellyached, fidgeting.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I suggest you go get your books and sit down, right here, and get the job done where I can keep an eye on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll take forever!\u201d protested Pat. He hadn\u2019t planned to do his homework at all; if he started now, just two hours before it was time for bed, he\u2019d never get it finished in time.<\/p>\n

\u201cYoung man, you\u2019ll sit here and do your work to the best of your ability until you\u2019re through. I don\u2019t care if it takes until midnight! And then you\u2019ll get your sorry backside to bed, and you\u2019ll get up at the usual time tomorrow to do your chores. If you\u2019re overtired, you\u2019ve only got yourself to blame. Do I make myself clear?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat met his father\u2019s angry hazel eyes, and considered defying him again, then shook his head in frustration. \u201cYes, sir,\u201d he grumbled, shoving himself to his feet and trudging upstairs to fetch his saddlebags with his books from his room.<\/p>\n

After retrieving them, he noisily stomped back down the stairs, dropped his books on the dining room table and angrily slammed himself into his chair. And worked. Hard.<\/p>\n

Adam sat in his chair, reading the newspaper, and watched him. Every once in a while, Pat picked up his head and glanced his way and found his father\u2019s stern eye on him. By the end of the evening, close to ten thirty, Pat was unspeakably weary, but his homework was finished. After Adam had checked his work, he nodded and jerked his thumb toward the stairs. \u201cGet to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n

In angry silence, Patrick obeyed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Now, in the cold of the morning, Pat groaned to himself and sighed. Well, that little plan went ta hell in a handbasket damn fast. Now what? <\/em>For a good hour after going up to bed, as sleepy as he was, his father\u2019s words had haunted him. Was it true? Was he really that hard to get along with?<\/p>\n

He thought back to all his years growing up in Hell\u2019s Kitchen, and how you had to act to survive in one piece. There, you had to be toughest, or you were ground into powder. Once you\u2019d established your superiority, you had to battle tooth and nail to keep it. He\u2019d never known peer relations to be any other way. He had his friends, sure: Jack, his lieutenant, a quieter, less vocal boy, but just as steely and determined as Pat. Jack had been content to let Pat be the mouthpiece of the group; he\u2019d handled the troops himself.<\/p>\n

And Seamus, the cheeky little bantam rooster who defied boys twice his size by sheer grit and willpower… he was always quick to see weakness, and he\u2019d nail Pat\u2019s hide to the wall every single time it appeared he was letting things slide. Patrick\u2019s saber-sharp tongue had been his greatest weapon, even beyond his fists; once he\u2019d physically conquered an opponent, he rarely had to do it again, mostly because of the implied threat present whenever he addressed someone.<\/p>\n

It also worked sometimes if you allied yourself to<\/em><\/strong> power, but Pat Riordan didn\u2019t bow down to nobody. Allying himself to someone else meant giving them potential to rule over him, or exposing a vulnerability that could take him down, and he simply could not let that happen.\u00a0 The way to stay safest was to permit no one \u2013 no one! \u2013<\/em> to dictate your movements, your actions, your rights. Ma had taught him that from the time he was in dresses.<\/p>\n

Were things really so different here? Troubled, the boy gazed in the flickering firelight at his bedroom ceiling, mentally tracing the patterns of plastering.\u00a0 Allowing his eye to follow the swirls and brushstrokes helped him calm his mind most nights, but not tonight. Huffing in frustration, Pat turn on his side, squeezing his eyes trying to shut to block out these uneasy thoughts and worries, to no avail. Wearily his eyes popped open once more as he mentally tangled with the situation. He thought of the few people he could call his friends.<\/p>\n

Can\u2019t count Lafe, over t\u2019 the livery; he ain\u2019t a classmate, just a poker partner.\u00a0 Mike acted like a friend at first, makin\u2019 me believe like what I came from didn\u2019t matter, but now he was angry at me like everybody else. How is that my<\/strong> fault!?\u00a0 And Cassie\u2026Cassie won\u2019t even look at me.<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat miserably shut his eyes and sighed, thinking back over the behavior he\u2019d exhibited the past few days while struggling to find his place.<\/p>\n

Yeah\u2026it is<\/strong> my own fault.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Now, in the cold gray morning light he hauled himself, disheartened, out of bed and rubbed his tired eyes. He\u2019d better get his chores done or he wouldn\u2019t have time for breakfast. As he dressed, his depression turned once again to resentment. None of this would be happening if it weren\u2019t for his father being so stubborn and unyielding about letting him study at home!<\/p>\n

He found it easier to simply hang the blame for his situation right on the shoulders of the man who’d carried his hatred and resentment for thirteen years: Adam Bloody Cartwright.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At the breakfast table, Pat sleepily sipped his coffee and mechanically ate his breakfast, avoiding his father\u2019s glances.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss, I\u2019d like you to ride up to that canyon beyond the old Marquette place, and see how many cattle you can round up, all right?\u201d directed Ben, wiping his mouth with his napkin and reaching for his coffee cup. \u201cThe hands have seen nearly twenty head around there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, sure, Pa,\u201d grinned Hoss. \u201cIt\u2019ll be good to be out again\u2026been cooped up there in San Francisco so long, I wonder if I\u2019ll remember how to mount my horse!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll bet Chub\u2019s enjoyed the vacation. Or at least his back has,\u201d grinned Joe. Hoss threw a biscuit at him and earned himself a stern glance from his father. Embarrassed, he put his attention back to his ham and eggs.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph, when you ride into town this morning, try to remember the buckboard this time, will you?\u201d reminded his father, teasing him slightly. Joe flushed in embarrassment, remember his gaffe yesterday, then chuckled to himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019ll do that, Pa,\u201d he grinned<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you have planned, Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam set his knife and fork in his plate, and sighed. \u201cJake hauled in the pump from the reservoir. Apparently no one pulled it before the freeze hit and it\u2019s got some ice damage. I\u2019m hoping I can repair it without having to buy a new one,\u201d he replied, frowning. It was going to be cold work out in the barn in this weather, but it had to be done.<\/p>\n

Ben nodded, and wiped his mouth on his napkin setting it aside. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll be in Virginia City, introducing Mr. Corrigan to Andrew Holloway at the Ophir, and possibly Jim Mackay, if he\u2019s around, several others. It might take the better part of the day, so don\u2019t expect me until at least supper time. Go ahead without me if I\u2019m not back in time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam glanced at Patrick, who still hadn\u2019t said a word all morning. As though feeling the gaze, Pat put down his fork, and eyes still down, muttered, \u201cI gotta get going or I\u2019ll be late. Can I be excused?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sighed. \u201cMay I\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat picked his head up slowly, and stared, for the first time that day, directly at his father. \u201cMay<\/em> I be excused?\u201d he asked icily.<\/p>\n

Adam forced himself meet the glance unwaveringly \u2013 this<\/em> kid\u2019s got more guts than sense sometimes <\/em>– and nodded. Pat got to his feet and walked upstairs to his room to gather his things.<\/p>\n

Joe and Hoss glanced at each other. \u201cBrrr\u2026it\u2019s just \u2018bout as cold in here as it is outside,\u201d observed Hoss, glancing at his older brother. \u201cWhat\u2019s got into him?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shrugged, scowling and refused to reply.<\/p>\n

\u201cSchool,\u201d Joe confided, with a sigh. \u201cHe hates it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss nodded, understanding; Pa had filled him in last night on Pat\u2019s current gripe. Poor kid, he thought, and grinned. He and Joe shared a glance and a chuckle, remembering their school days. Ben smiled, too. Adam had been the only one of the boys that had enjoyed attending school. \u201cWell, can\u2019t say as I blame him. I weren\u2019t none too fond of school, either.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam raised his head, annoyed. \u201cIt\u2019s talk like that that keeps this situation in the state it\u2019s in, Hoss!\u201d he snapped.<\/p>\n

Ben and Joe looked up from their breakfasts surprised by the anger in Adam\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019d I do?\u201d asked Hoss, startled. \u201cAll I said was -\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI heard what you said! And I\u2019m asking you to knock it off!\u201d Adam slapped his napkin down on the table, angrily.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d said Ben quietly, \u201cthere\u2019s no call to take your frustration with Patrick out on your brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam started to retort, then stopped himself, and shut his mouth. He picked up his coffee and silently finished drinking it.<\/p>\n

Uncomfortably, Hoss lowered his head and focused his attention on his plate. Boy! People sure are touchy around here this morning!<\/em><\/p>\n

The rest of the meal proceeded in uncomfortable silence. Adam glanced in annoyance at the clock. Where the devil is that kid? If he doesn\u2019t hurry he is going to be late! <\/em>Just as he was about to irritably get to his feet and call to him, he heard a clatter of boots hurrying down the stairs; Pat was nearly at a run, his saddlebags over his shoulder, his coat and hat on, but a piece of paper and a pencil in his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, I gotta have you sign this before I go. Can ya hurry? I\u2019m gonna be late,\u201d he said hurriedly, thrusting the paper at his father and placing the pencil in his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon Dad, just sign it, okay? I gotta go!\u201d implored Pat, glancing at the clock.<\/p>\n

Adam slowly set the paper down and glared at his son. Pat flushed, head down a little and peered up at his father through his fringe of thick, black eyelashes. Damn! Another ploy that hadn\u2019t worked. <\/em><\/p>\n

Adam looked at the paper before him, and an angry expression fell over his face. He glowered up at his son. \u201cAn \u2018F\u2019? In arithmetic?!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat shifted his feet. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he said quietly, but really glancing at the clock now in some urgency. \u201cI promise it won\u2019t happen again, Dad, wouldja just please sign it so\u2019s I can go?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silently Adam signed it and held the test paper out to his son. As Pat reached for it, Adam pulled it away again slightly, startling the boy into looking up at him. \u201cFor this little piece of scholarly effort and for that attempt at deception you\u2019re confined to the ranch for a week.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat stared at him, his mouth dropping open. \u201cWhat?!\u201d he gasped.<\/p>\n

Hoss and Joe glanced at each other again, worried. Ben closed his eyes and shook his head. This was beginning to become ridiculous. They hadn\u2019t had a pleasant meal in this house in a week!<\/p>\n

\u201cYou heard me. And you\u2019ll spend every evening of that week in your room practicing your math. Maybe you\u2019ll come up with a better plan next time for hiding poor grades from me or trying to slip them by me.\u201d Adam handed his son his paper, coldly.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I already promised that I wouldn\u2019t do it again!\u201d protested Pat hotly, throwing caution to the winds.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Because if you ever do<\/em> try to deceive me like that again, it\u2019ll be two weeks,\u201d said Adam, glaring at his son.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat ain\u2019t fair!\u201d shouted Pat, hurling his saddlebags to the floor, just a heartbeat short of stamping his foot in a temper.<\/p>\n

Adam glanced down at the flung items, then stared icily at his son. \u201cPick up those saddlebags, right now,\u201d he ordered, his voice ominously quiet.<\/p>\n

However, his young son was too upset to notice or care. \u201cPick \u2018em up yourself!\u201d snapped Pat, out of control, turning to stalk off.<\/p>\n

Adam shot to his feet and gripped his son\u2019s wrist, hauling him up short. His dark eyes smoldering, Adam\u2019s strong right hand painfully forced Pat\u2019s wrist and hand down to the floor. Pat struggled but his wiry strength was no match for his father\u2019s muscular power as Adam inexorably forced the boy\u2019s hand down to pick up the saddlebags.<\/p>\n

Tears of frustration made the youngster\u2019s blue eyes shine as he reluctantly gripped his them; once the bags were in his grasp, he was hauled unceremoniously upright and yanked up closed to his father\u2019s chest His father forced him to look at him, and when he spoke, Pat\u2019s stomach quaked. It had been months since he\u2019d seen an expression that furious on his father\u2019s face. An unpleasant session with his father\u2019s belt had followed that time.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow dare<\/em> you defy me like that! Another demonstration like that, young man, and big as you are, I\u2019ll put you over my knee and give you the sound spanking you seem to be begging for! Act like a six-year-old and I\u2019ll treat you like one!\u201d declared his father, his eyes burning in Pat\u2019s. \u201cNow get yourself to school. And there had better be an improved attitude, young man, or you\u2019ll find out just how serious I am about that spanking! Understood?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Pat muttered, red-faced with outrage and embarrassment. Adam roughly released him. Without another word, the boy gathered his things and turned toward the door.\u00a0 He yelped in surprised pain when he was \u201chelped\u201d toward the door with a stinging smack on the rear end from the flat of his father\u2019s broad, hard hand.<\/p>\n

The rest of the Cartwrights uneasily looked at each other as Adam, hands on his hips and a glower on his face, watched his son storm out of the house. He then turned on his heel and stalked upstairs. All three flinched as Adam slammed his bedroom door hard enough to shake the rafters.<\/p>\n

\u201cFeel good to be home, Hoss?\u201d asked Joe dryly, pushing his half-eaten plate away. That little scene had destroyed any appetite he had. Glumly, Hoss sipped his coffee and glanced at their father.<\/p>\n

Ben sighed, sadly, rubbing his forehead. He had developed a headache. The turbulence of Patrick\u2019s adolescence was going to churn an unpleasant wake of events that he feared nothing would be able to waylay.\u00a0 As a father, he\u2019d been through this three times. He just hoped that Adam and Patrick would survive it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat angrily galloped Black Jack toward Virginia City, his pride still smarting from the harsh lesson in physical supremacy he\u2019d been given this morning. Rarely had he been overpowered in his short lifetime, and he resented it. Badly. His conscience told him he\u2019d been wrong, but his pride was bruised and his feelings tender.<\/p>\n

Stubbornly, he considered a number of options. He thought about continuing his \u201cI-hate-school\u201d campaign but decided that wasn\u2019t going to get him anywhere. Playing hooky was another option, but he knew exactly what his father would do to him and he wasn\u2019t about to take for granted the ability to sit comfortably.<\/p>\n

Spank me!\u00a0 The sonuvabitch said he\u2019d spank<\/strong> me, like I\u2019m some snot-nosed little kid!<\/em><\/p>\n

Fuming, the boy slowed down a bit as he and Black Jack approached a grove of trees, forcing himself to have to reduce their pace and pay attention to the terrain.<\/p>\n

As it always did, time on Jack, riding on his own and letting his mind work through his problems, went a long way to soothe his frustrated nerves. The cold air was invigorating, breaking up the weariness from his late night of studying. It also helped to cool off his hot temper. As Pat rode, the overwhelmingly logical side of his mind began to take control, allowing him to examine the situation from a less angry perspective.<\/p>\n

Okay. He\u2019d been acting like a jerk. That was a given. He\u2019d gotten into yet another fight with his father. There was another given. He would now have to work extra hard in school to catch up where he\u2019d been slacking off. That was yet another unpleasant given. Pat shook his head, and sighed. What was it his mother always used to say? \u201cPatrick, me lad, ye\u2019re yer own worst enemy!\u201d Wearily, he had to admit she\u2019d been right.<\/p>\n

In fact, as he thought about this morning\u2019s mess, he knew he\u2019d got off a lot easier than if he\u2019d been sparring with Ma.\u00a0 Okay, Dad, I admit it.\u00a0 I shouldn\u2019t\u2019a done what I did with the saddlebags.\u00a0 Ma woulda slapped me into next week if I\u2019d so much as made a noise towards actin\u2019 like that to her. I guess I was<\/strong> actin\u2019 like a spoiled brat. <\/em>His shoulders drooped a bit to realize that that meant another apology and atonement that had to be made.<\/p>\n

Pat noticed that his trip was nearly over and he was close to town. As stubborn as he was, he was too bright to allow himself to get into deeper trouble just because of his obstinacy. Maybe if he behaved himself his father would cool off and they\u2019d be able to work this out.<\/p>\n

As the schoolhouse belltower came into view, Pat\u2019s mood slipped from anger into sadness.\u00a0 His shoulders drooped as he accepted that much of his currently unpleasant situation was his own, stubborn fault. He was just so angry lately and it seemed as though that anger had no safe place he could let it go. He was confused, and he felt so helpless, and nothing made him more irritable than that.\u00a0 He shook his head in defeat; his father would win again.<\/p>\n

Most of the kids were already at school as he trotted into the corral. Mike Devlin was just dismounting his horse as he rode alongside. Uncomfortably, Pat decided that was one fence he\u2019d better mend quickly. He didn\u2019t like feeling at odds with his best friend.<\/p>\n

Mike looked up as he approached on horseback, then his face closed angrily and he turned away. Pat rolled his eyes; okay, extra effort gonna be needed here.<\/em><\/p>\n

They put their saddles side by side on the long rafters, and Pat reached out to gently take Mike\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cMike, wait a minute…please?\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

Mike\u2019s face was cold, but he heard the tone of supplication in his friend\u2019s voice and reluctantly turned back.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d he demanded, belligerently.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, I\u2019ve been mean, and I know it. I just wanted to say I was sorry,\u201d Pat said quietly. \u201cI kinda miss havin\u2019 a friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well you shoulda thought o\u2019 that before you tried to make an idiot outta me,\u201d snapped Mike, still smarting badly from the dig he\u2019d suffered a couple of days prior.<\/p>\n

\u201cMike, c\u2019mon,\u201d pleaded Pat, turning his friend around. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, honest. I didn\u2019t mean it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mike just glared first at him, then down at the hand gripping his arm.\u00a0 Pat squirmed a little, releasing Mike\u2019s arm; he was disturbed to see just how much he\u2019d truly hurt his friend.<\/p>\n

\u201cMike, I know I did <\/em>it, but I didn\u2019t really mean to hurt your feelings,\u201d he said softly, flushing scarlet.<\/p>\n

Apologies didn\u2019t come easily to him, and Micah knew it. He realized what this was costing his friend. \u201cWell\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll make it up to you, Mike, I promise,\u201d assured Pat, a swaggering grin on his face. It was absolutely the wrong move.<\/p>\n

Mike exhaled in exasperation. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to \u2018make it up to me,\u2019 you jackass!\u201d he snapped. \u201cAll I want you to do is stop acting like somethin\u2019 you\u2019re not! Ever since you started school, you been actin\u2019 like \u2013 like – I dunno, like some outlaw! Mr. Tough, never turn a hair! Bein\u2019 as mean and as difficult as you can be! Dammit, that ain\u2019t you, Pat. I don\u2019t know who it is, but it ain\u2019t you! I mean, I always knew you were kinda spoiled, and used ta getting\u2019 your own way, but I chalked that up t\u2019 not havin\u2019 any brothers around to knock sense into your damn skull.\u00a0 But you never were mean! That is, unless you been putting a line over on me all these months. Maybe I don\u2019t really know you at all!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mike started to stalk off, but Pat stopped him, stung, putting his hand again on his arm. \u201cWait a minute! You\u2019ve had your say, now it\u2019s my turn!\u201d he snapped.<\/p>\n

Surprised, Mike glared at his \u2018former friend,\u2019 shoulders set and chin raised belligerently.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have any idea what it\u2019s been like for me? I\u2019m sorry I hurt your feelings! I didn\u2019t mean to do it, and I didn\u2019t plan to do it! But no one around here cares about my feelings! Nobody cares if things they said or done hurt me<\/em>! I show up and no one\u2019ll talk to me, and the tough guys pick a fight the very first day! I can\u2019t win!\u201d he shouted, throwing his hands in his air. \u201cWhat\u2019s a person gotta do to make friends in this one-horse town?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, you idiot! You wanna make friends with these kids? Then try being one!\u201d Mike yelled back. \u201cQuit treatin\u2019 \u2018em like they\u2019re less than you are! I dunno what\u2019s got into you! Just cause you\u2019re a Cartwright don\u2019t make you any better\u2019n the rest of us! Makin\u2019 friends\u2019s got everything to do with the way you talk to people, like not treatin\u2019 \u2018em like dirt under your feet!\u201d he retorted, bluntly. \u201cYou think we ain\u2019t already figured out you\u2019re smart?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat was totally surprised by that one.\u00a0 His jaw dropped.<\/p>\n

\u201cActin\u2019 up the way you been ain\u2019t hiding it, Pat! For crying out loud, we all know it! I always did<\/em><\/strong> know it, ever since I met ya!\u201d\u00a0 Mike started to walk away, then whirled back, his dark brown eyes searing with hurt. \u201cI just don\u2019t know when you decided that you had ta rub everybody\u2019s noses in it!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat winced at that, stung. \u201cBut I -\u201d he started, feeling guiltier by the minute.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Pat! That\u2019s just the way you\u2019ve been treatin\u2019 us all, like – like stupid yokels that need you<\/em> around to survive! Well, lemme tell ya something, Mr. New York High and Mighty!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat winced; Mike was really wound up, now.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe been here a lot longer\u2019n you! Maybe that\u2019s the way they act back East, but that ain\u2019t the way friends here treat each other. So, if you wanna be my friend, buddy, you better change your tune. You got that?\u201d he demanded, jabbing his taller friend in the chest with a stubby forefinger.<\/p>\n

Sheepishly, Pat glanced down at the finger. \u201cYeah, I got it,\u201d he said softly, flushing in discomfort. Mike saw the look on his buddy\u2019s face and nodded emphatically.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood! And you better watch your step! I know your Pa, and if he gets wind of the way you been actin\u2019, he\u2019ll have your hide!\u201d snapped Micah, reaching into his saddlebags for his books.<\/p>\n

Pat nervously glanced at him. Drawing in a deep breath, Pat blushed harder and took the plunge, having a hard time looking his friend in the eye. \u201cHe knows.\u00a0 And he already went up one side o\u2019 me and down the other.\u00a0\u00a0 Please forgive me, Mike. I \u2026 well, I miss havin\u2019 you for a friend. If it\u2019ll make ya feel any better, you can kick me one in the shins when I act up and maybe I\u2019ll learn, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mike tried to keep his anger intact, but Pat\u2019s sheepish, sincerely sorry expression got to him and he sighed, frustrated, then glanced up and grinned.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well, your shins are gonna be black and blue!\u201d he grunted. Pat smiled in relief and gently punched his friend\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It felt a lot better to have a friend again as Pat slipped into his desk beside Micah. He halted, mid-chat, as a shadow fell over his desk. He swallowed hard and looked up at a very stern-faced Miss Masterson.<\/p>\n

\u201cShould I assume you\u2019ve chosen not to do your homework again, Patrick?\u201d she asked dryly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, ma\u2019am,\u201d he replied, meekly, digging into his saddlebags and pulling out a sheaf of papers; three days\u2019 worth of homework. He handed the papers over, without making eye contact.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd your arithmetic test paper?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s in there, ma\u2019am. Signed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m glad to hear it, young man. I might have had to do something about it, otherwise,\u201d she said seriously. He looked down at the top of his desk, embarrassed. She didn\u2019t say another word, not wishing to add to his discomfort, and continued on to her desk, asking the other children to pass forward their homework papers.<\/p>\n

Pat ducked his head a little and hoped that the other kids had missed that little exchange. He then thought uncomfortably about what Mike had said. Oh, well; maybe I got a little embarrassment comin\u2019. <\/em>He glanced around, and his eye settled in surprise on a new face. And what a face it was!<\/p>\n

There was a new girl, a few seats ahead of him and on the right, and, boy, was she beautiful! Burnished brown curls cascading down her back and drawn back at the top in a big red bow, fair-skinned with incongruously dark brows and eyelashes. She was small and delicate, not too tall, at least she didn\u2019t seem to be sitting next to Mary Logan, one of the tallest girls in the school. Her red gingham dress and white pinafore were crisp and clean. He was suddenly nudged by Mike and, startled, came back to earth.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019re you lookin\u2019 at?\u201d Mike grinned.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s she?\u201d Pat breathed, turning his gaze back on this Aphrodite.<\/p>\n

\u201cDunno\u2026she must be new.\u201d<\/p>\n

Their answer came a few moments later when Miss Masterson introduced her to the class. Facing the rest of the class, Pat saw her eyes were a beautiful celadon green and sighed. Holy moley\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cChildren, let\u2019s welcome Wendy Anne Carter to the class, shall we? She\u2019s just arrived in Virginia City, and though she may not be here long, we\u2019d like to make her feel welcome.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s face had lost all traces of the cold, closed tough guy as he gazed at her with a silly grin.\u00a0 He noted that though her demeanor was quiet and well-behaved her eyes were full of mischief. So, this was Wendy Carter, the girl Uncle Hoss had been talking about last night at supper! Yeah. After looking at the deviltry in those eyes, he could see exactly what Uncle Hoss was talking about.\u00a0 He had a feeling he was gonna like this girl!<\/p>\n

Miss Masterson sat Wendy back down next to Mary and turned to the class. \u201cJohn and Miranda, you may start working on the math problems on the board. You older children, open your history books to page 72, please. Micah? Will you please read beginning at the heading, \u2018The Battle of Gettysburg, Day Two?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Across the room, another pair of green eyes were filled with hurt and studying Patrick as he struggled to turn his attention away from the new girl and onto his books. Cassie could almost feel herself slipping out of his thoughts\u2026 and, it appeared, his heart. She sniffled as she looked down at her textbook.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER SIX<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben Cartwright trotted Buck into Virginia City, grateful he\u2019d reached town earlier than expected. He\u2019d noticed more and more lately that the cold bothered him. His knees were aching from the chill by the time he dropped off Buck at the livery stable, giving old Lafe instructions to feed and water Buck for the day.\u00a0 He warmed his hands briefly at the wood stove Lafe kept going, annoyed with himself.<\/p>\n

Am I getting old?<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0He\u2019d certainly wondered when Patrick had first arrived; a grandson, and a half-grown one at that! Adam would be thirty-six on his next birthday. Ben realized he was certainly no spring chicken anymore! Sighing, he drew his coat closer around himself and then headed out toward the hotel.<\/p>\n

As he walked along the wooden sidewalk he was surprised to note the new businesses popping up all over Virginia City. It had been weeks since he\u2019d been to town with enough time to simply walk around and look at was there to be seen. There was a new haberdasher\u2019s; he figured both Adam and Joe would find that out soon. Adam was a meticulous dresser, Joe an opulent one. Both his oldest and youngest sons liked to look their best, especially when courting a lady. And Joe\u2019s interest in the pretty new schoolteacher hadn\u2019t escaped his father\u2019s eye.<\/p>\n

Come to think of it, Ben pondered as he walked along, tipping his hat absently at the ladies he met, other things hadn\u2019t escaped his eye lately either, including Joe\u2019s distinct effort last night and this morning at proper grammar; Ben hadn\u2019t heard an \u2018ain\u2019t\u2019 from the boy all day! Ben chuckled and shook his head; well, if sparking Elizabeth Masterson could provoke such a change in his son, more power to her!<\/p>\n

He was at the International House before he knew it. He\u2019d agreed to meet Eamon Corrigan here to have a cup of coffee, then head out to Bonanza Firm, where Jim Flood, Jim Fair, William O\u2019Brien and John Mackay had offices. He wanted to stop at Andrew Holloway\u2019s office as well.\u00a0 There was a Ponderosa contract pending with the Ophir, anyway, that needed to be signed. Timber from the Ponderosa was shoring up most of the Comstock mines, and Ben and Adam worked hard to make sure that they kept on top of the opportunities presented. Ben would talk a bit with Holloway and then introduce Corrigan.<\/p>\n

Corrigan \u2026 Ben shook his head a bit as he entered the Hotel\u2019s lobby. An interesting man. Seemed to be friendly enough, and open to answering Ben\u2019s questions. But it was clear there was a side of him that was shut to the rest of the world. He glanced at the clock: just on nine. He was right on time. He entered the restaurant and saw Corrigan seated at the table finishing his breakfast and reading\u00a0The Territorial Enterprise.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning,\u201d Ben smiled, approaching the table. Corrigan looked up, and beamed in return, half-rising. \u201cNo, no, sit down and finish your breakfast.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, no, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d assured the big Irishman, \u201cI\u2019m through, t\u2019be sure. It\u2019s kind of you to have come. \u2018Twas a bit cold; I thought ye might prefer to stay close to the warmth of yer home today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNonsense.\u201d Ben settled into the chair and accepted the cup of coffee offered by the Chinese waiter. \u201cThank you, son. No, no milk. So, Mr. Corrigan, have you decided whom you\u2019d like to call on first?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe decision was taken from me,\u201d chuckled Corrigan. \u201cMr. James Fair stopped in to have his breakfast and was kindly pointed out to me by the waiter. He and I chatted a bit and mentioned that Mr. Mackay was out of town until Monday. I would say that makes your friend, Mr. Holloway, our contact this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben stared at Corrigan.\u00a0Jim Fair actually talked to this man? Here?!<\/em>\u00a0Fair was known to be an incorrigible reprobate, hardly a friendly sort. And he certainly tended to shun the dining room of the International Hotel. Though a wealthy man, Fair refused to acknowledge it in his dress, or his manners.<\/p>\n

Corrigan noted his surprise and grinned. \u201cMr. Fair was in the company of a charmin\u2019 young lady, apparently hungry for her breakfast,\u201d he grinned knowingly. \u201cMr. Fair was quite put out at bein\u2019 disturbed, but when he heard me to be a son of Eire, he managed to grunt out a few sentences with some information.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben laughed and shook his head. \u201cNow, THAT sounds more like the Jim Fair I know! I\u2019m simply surprised he was even\u00a0in<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0here. Tell me, was he wearing his usual work clothes, or did he manage to \u00a0dress appropriately for the occasion?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, he wasn\u2019t a fashion plate, to be sure, but he was clean,\u201d remarked Corrigan, with a chuckle. Ben smirked and sipped his coffee.\u00a0 \u201cWell, sor, when you\u2019re finished your coffee, we can be on our way. I\u2019ve set up a number of other appointments this afternoon, so I\u2019d rather like to be finished by noon.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben smiled. That meant he could have a quiet afternoon at home before Patrick arrived home from school and the boys came in from work.\u00a0Hallelujah!<\/em>\u00a0\u201cThat sounds like a good plan.\u201d<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

The two men walked from the International House to Andrew Holloway\u2019s office at the Ophir. The fifteen-minute amble from one end of town to the other allowed Ben to point out\u00a0 the other stores, offices and drinking establishments on offer in town, and provide \u00a0his opinon of their services if he asked.\u00a0 When Corrigan slowed to examine the wares in a shop window, or to take note of the clientele of a business, Cartwright tucked the information away in his mind.<\/p>\n

The Irishman\u2019s observations and questions were witty and incisive, and his smile and laughter infectious, making passersby look their way, caught up in his enthusiasm.\u00a0 Ben found himself enjoying the man\u2019s company very much, though he still \u2013 he realized \u2013 knew very little about him or what his purpose was beyond meeting wealthy mine owners in town.<\/p>\n

When they arrived at the huge Ophir mining offices at the south end of \u201cC\u201d Street, not far from the Ponderosa\u2019s Bristlecone offices, Corrigan\u2019s canny blue eyes took in the good repair and general state of the buildings. It took only a few minutes for Andrew Holloway to come out of his office to greet them once his secretary announced \u201cMr. Cartwright\u2019s arrived, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBen!\u00a0 It\u2019s good to see you!\u00a0 When Garrett said \u2018Mr. Cartwright\u2019 I assumed he meant Adam had come by to harangue me about something,\u201d laughed Andrew, shaking the elder Cartwright\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

Ben chuckled, knowing how hard Adam worked for mine safety.\u00a0 But he also knew that despite Andrew\u2019s teasing banter, no one worked harder than Adam\u00a0and<\/em>\u00a0Holloway, together, to lobby for safer working conditions for the miners.\u00a0 It had been the tragic and unnecessary death of Gil Fenton, the former fianc\u00e9 of Holloway’s daughter, Helene, and a good friend of Adam\u2019s, that had changed the mine owner from someone who only looked at the bottom line to instead seeing the faces and lives of the men who worked for him.<\/p>\n

But Holloway was a businessman on a schedule, so he quickly led the two guests into his office.\u00a0 Ben made a cursory introduction of the Irishman, then quickly conducted his own business with Andrew Holloway.\u00a0 Upon its completion, he then settled back to introduce Corrigan more fully.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Corrigan asked me to make some introductions, Andrew,\u201d said Ben easily, leaning back and gesturing to the big man beside him.\u00a0 \u201cI hope you won\u2019t consider this taking advantage of you and your time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNonsense, Ben,\u201d assured Andrew, though he eyed the other man carefully.\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t have a lot of time to spare, but I can certainly hear you out for a few minutes.\u00a0 What can I do for you, Mr. Corrigan?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose I could be brash and be offerin\u2019 ye the usual phrase, \u2018ah, but Mr. Holloway, \u2018tis not what you can do for me, but what I can do fer you!\u2019 I think I\u2019ll eschew that, and get down to brass tacks, sor,\u201d he smiled. \u201cI\u2019m representing a firm in Ireland, and it\u2019s me purpose to be buying gold and silver bullion for investment purposes. As I\u2019m sure ye\u2019re aware, international trading is much easier conducted in these forms than any other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTrue enough,\u201d nodded Andrew, tipping his head to one side. \u201cWhat currency, though, will you be using to purchase the bullion? British sterling?\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan\u2019s face closed slightly. \u201cNo, sir. American greenbacks,\u201d he answered quietly. \u201cI can be assurin\u2019 ye, utilizing British currency and strengthening their economy is no pet project o\u2019 mine.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andrew was startled a bit by the coldness of the reply. Ben, too, cocked an eyebrow at the Irishman. Noting the surprise on their faces, Corrigan adopted an easy smile once more. \u201cIt\u2019s curious, I am, to be knowin\u2019 if such a business transaction might be of interest to ye. I\u2019d of course be contacting me bank in San Francisco by wire to learn the latest conversion rates. And ye\u2019d be welcome to consult yer own financial advisors.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt sounds like a clear exchange of currencies and as such shouldn\u2019t be a problem, Mr. Corrigan,\u201d nodded Andrew, eyeing him carefully. \u201cYou mentioned your bank in San Francisco. Is that where your holdings are?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome of the capital for the project is there, yes,\u201d nodded Corrigan, puffing on the cigar Andrew had offered him. \u201cOther assets are \u2026 floating, shall we say. But they shall have solidified by the time the deal is stuck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it seems to be a wise move to make. Helps you, and certainly doesn\u2019t hurt me,\u201d nodded Andrew. \u201cVery well, Mr. Corrigan, when you can present me with you financial\u00a0bona fides<\/em>, we can talk again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan rose to his feet, a broad smile on his face and his large meaty hand outstretched. \u201c\u2018Tis kind ye are, Mr. Holloway, to be givin\u2019 me this much o\u2019 your busy time, I\u2019m sure. I will definitely be in touch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, it\u2019s good to see you again. And I\u2019m glad we were able to work out another year\u2019s worth of business together,\u201d smiled Andrew. Ben took his hand and shook it warmly.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo am I, Andrew. Adam will be pleased, I know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTell Adam I said hello, and that Helene and Will miss seeing him. It\u2019s been a long winter. She says he hasn\u2019t been out to visit them in ages.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben chuckled. \u201cWell, besides the long winter, Adam\u2019s got an active son to keep him busy now. But I\u2019ll be sure to tell him. Good day to you, Andrew.\u201d<\/p>\n

Outside on the sidewalk, Ben glanced at his watch and smiled at Corrigan. \u201cWell, Mr. Corrigan, it\u2019s just half-past ten. It would appear we\u2019ve easily met your time limits.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, we have, Mr. Cartwright, and I\u2019m most grateful to ye. This little introduction this morning has been extremely helpful,\u201d Corrigan nodded.<\/p>\n

Ben studied him a moment. \u201cI meant to ask earlier. You mentioned that Mackay was out of town. Did you plan to meet him alone? I was under the impression you didn\u2019t know any of the partners in the Bonanza Firm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Fair kindly pointed out that Mackay is the front man, so to speak, for the firm,\u201d answered Corrigan, briefly.\u00a0I have to be more careful. Me cursed tongue will catch me in the end! And it\u2019s remarkably sharp of this Cartwright to note that slip. Bloody Orangeman!<\/em>\u00a0\u201cI simply supposed from his statement that Mackay would be the one I should be speakin\u2019 with. Did I misinterpret?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, not at all,\u201d mused Ben. \u201cI think John is likely the one you should talk to. Actually, he\u2019s a rather good friend of my oldest son\u2019s. Perhaps Adam should be the one to make that introduction.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTruly? Hmm,\u201d considered Corrigan. \u201cPerhaps you\u2019re right. Might he be willing, do ye think?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, since Mackay is away for the rest of the week, why don\u2019t you join us for dinner Saturday evening, Mr. Corrigan, and we can talk about it with him then.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI look forward to meeting your other sons, Mr. Cartwright. Hoss told me quite a bit about them. And that scrappy young grandson of yours!\u201d he grinned. \u201cPatrick, is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Patrick,\u201d sighed Ben, with an indulgent smile. \u201cAnd scrappy is a pretty good way to describe him!\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan laughed. \u201cT\u2019will be a pleasure, indeed, Mr. Cartwright, t\u2019be meeting the rest of your family.\u00a0 You seem very proud of them all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am,\u201d Ben, stretching out his right hand. \u201cShall we say, seven o\u2019clock?\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan\u2019s own right hand grasped Ben\u2019s, and he added his left atop their clasp, cordially. \u201cSeven it shall be, sir. My great thanks to ye.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben watched as Corrigan walked back toward the Hotel, the pleasant smile on his face covering the feeling of the hairs on the back of his neck rising in alarm.\u00a0 He couldn\u2019t put his finger on what it was, but there was\u00a0something<\/em>\u00a0about this man.\u00a0 He was disconcerted; Ben considered himself a pretty good judge of character.\u00a0 So disconcerted that he wanted to gain the perspective of the only other man who\u2019s acumen for sussing out another man\u2019s character he trusted as much as his own.\u00a0 And that was Adam.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cDammit to hell!\u201d<\/p>\n

Wearily, the man leaned forward, bracing his arms on the workbench and studying the wreckage of the pump.\u00a0\u00a0No way around it.\u00a0 I\u2019ll have to head into the town and see if Bill\u2019s got one in stock.\u00a0<\/em>God, how he hated wasted time!<\/p>\n

He\u2019d been on edge all morning, ever since his quarrel with Patrick. He closed his eyes and sighed. He hoped the boy had settled down by the time he got to school.<\/p>\n

Remembering his son\u2019s defiance, his mouth twisted in a wry grin.\u00a0\u00a0Pa would have tanned me within an inch of my life if I\u2019d openly defied him that way.\u00a0\u00a0<\/em>And yet, he envied the boy for feeling on solid enough footing to stand his ground.\u00a0 To have the confidence in himself to express his emotions so strongly. While he knew Pa often ground his teeth at the leeway he allowed the boy, permitting behavior that would never have been tolerated from himself or his brothers, Adam was grateful that Siobhan had instilled in their son the ability to access his emotions.\u00a0 It was just going to take some work to teach him to manage them a bit more, but he had no desire to direct him to shove them down, burying them. He knew the fallout from that far too well and didn\u2019t wish it on his boy.<\/p>\n

Adam thought sadly of how much his son was like him in other ways, though. Of how, in so many ways, they responded the same way to challenges. He could remember being impatient and prickly at that age. Of having that adolescent selfishness and ego when feeling everyone else was just too slow and feeling irritated at having to pace his own thinking in order for others to keep up.\u00a0 There were several occasions he could recall that Pa had had to come down hard on him for his reckless, insolent behavior. He sighed.\u00a0Please God, get me through the next three or four years?<\/em>\u00a0he pleaded in amusement.<\/p>\n

He came back to himself as his hand brushed a piece of twisted metal from the pump and he grimly shoved the pieces to the side; they could be melted down for new uses.\u00a0 He squared his shoulders and went to hitch up the wagon to head into town.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cMornin\u2019, Adam! What can I do for ya?\u201d smiled Bill Jenkins at the mercantile.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Bill, I\u2019m hoping you have a water pump in stock. If not, I\u2019ll have to get one ordered,\u201d sighed Adam as he unbuttoned his coat. He pulled his gloves off and slipped them into his pocket.\u00a0 Then he grinned a little, raising his black brows, and leaned against the counter.<\/p>\n

This morning, Joe had managed to talk him into picking up the supplies that afternoon since he was coming in anyway; in that way, Joe\u2019d be able to have more time to see Liz Masterson. Adam had grinned and agreed easily; he liked that young woman, and he could see that Joe wanted to get her know her \u2026 very well. Anything that encouraged Joe into a more scholarly lifestyle was something he could totally get behind.<\/p>\n

He shared a knowing grin with Bill.\u00a0 \u201cI also need to pick up those supplies Joe ordered yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bill guffawed, remembering yesterday\u2019s silliness.\u00a0 \u201cHe sure did seem pretty taken with our schoolmarm!\u201d the storeowner agreed, between laughs.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, may the gods shine upon him,\u201d chuckled Adam, shaking his head, personally thinking that Liz Masterson would be looking for someone a little more well-read than his baby brother, but acknowledged to himself that Joe was a lively companion until the right fellow came along!\u00a0 \u201cShe\u2019s a very nice girl.\u00a0 He could do worse.\u00a0 Anyway, Bill, I\u2019ve got a useless pump back at the Ponderosa and hope you\u2019ve got one in the back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat size?\u201d asked Bill, coming back to business. They talked and examined possibilities for a few moments, then Bill left him while he went back to his stockroom. Adam sighed and turned around, leaning a hip against the counter, observing the rest of the customers.\u00a0I haven\u2019t been here in a dog\u2019s age,\u00a0<\/em>he realized in a bit of surprise.\u00a0 They\u2019d been so busy out at the ranch that there\u2019d been no time to come to look over the new arrival of sheet music, or tools, or even books. It also occurred to him that he\u2019d be wise to pick up a few slate pencils for Pat. It had been quite a while since they\u2019d needed to think about school supplies at the Ponderosa! There was always plenty of foolscap between the timber and mine reports that he wrote, and Pa\u2019s letters, but slates and slate pencils hadn\u2019t been purchased since Joe finally, joyously, left school behind eight years before.<\/p>\n

He paused in his perusal of the other shoppers, some smiling at him and nodding, and others absorbed in their own business, when he noticed on a newcomer. His eyes widened slightly; a lovely woman with dark hair, nearly as dark as his own, small and delicate. Even the overly simple black dress she wore couldn\u2019t hide the loveliness of her figure, with her tiny waist and gently widening hips.<\/p>\n

She was studying book titles with all her attention, gently laying some in her arm. He tilted his head slightly and read the titles: Dickens, Twain \u2026 He grinned happily, then the smile froze on his face as he glanced at her left hand and noted a broad gold band on her finger.\u00a0Oh, well,<\/em>\u00a0he thought wryly to himself,\u00a0too late again. All the interesting ones seem to be taken.<\/em><\/p>\n

The slate pencils were only a step away from her, so he quietly tried to step behind her in order to keep from disturbing her. Unfortunately, she chose that moment to finish her shopping at the books and turned sharply, barging right into him, and dropping her books in their collision.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so sorry!\u201d she cried, flustered.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, it was my fault,\u201d he apologized leaning down to pick up the books. \u201cI tried to get around behind you so I wouldn\u2019t disturb you. I guess I didn\u2019t succeed.\u201d He offered his most charming smile, hoping to ease her mind, taking off his hat.<\/p>\n

She reluctantly smiled in return. They stared at each other for a moment.<\/p>\n

My goodness, what beautiful eyes! They\u2019re\u2026 brown? No, there\u2019s quite a bit of green in there and some flecks of amber.<\/em>\u00a0 Veronia Carter mentally shook herself as she realized, feeling her neck and cheeks grow warm, she was staring at this man. Staring, and feeling stirrings that were not welcome!<\/p>\n

She really is captivating! Those green eyes \u2026 they\u2019re so large, beautifully shaped.\u00a0 That fringe of dark lashes really make the color spring out at you, and those brows\u2026 so delicate, like bird\u2019s wings\u2026<\/em>\u00a0He saw her color under his gaze, and he dropped his eyes, flustered, realizing he was staring.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh \u2026 discovering Mr. Twain\u2019s writing?\u201d he asked, trying to cover his self-consciousness.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, I\u2019ve enjoyed Mr. Twain\u2019s writing for several years, now,\u201d she replied, realizing his discomfort and trying to ease it. \u201cI\u2019m getting this one for my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think she\u2019ll like it,\u201d he smiled. He handed back\u00a0The Adventures of Tom Sawyer<\/em>\u00a0to her as well as the other two books. \u201cMy son and I\u00a0 read it together, and I have to admit, he wasn\u2019t the only one who really enjoyed it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh?\u201d she said, looking at him. \u201cHow old is he? I beg your pardon, I just wondered if they were around the same age\u2026\u201d she chattered, abashed.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s fourteen. We read it this winter.\u201d<\/p>\n

She noticed that when he smiled slight, the edges of his perfect, cupid\u2019s bow mouth gave his whole face a relaxed, engaging and very attractive expression.\u00a0 \u201cWendy is thirteen,\u201d she nodded, looking down.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh!\u00a0 They\u2019re close in age.\u00a0 If she enjoys adventure stories, she\u2019ll like this, though she may find the hero\u2019s antics a little off-putting.\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman\u2019s laughter was joyous, and just the sound of it lifted Adam\u2019s spirits.<\/p>\n

\u201cI doubt it.\u201d Her face slipped into a comically hapless expression. \u201cMy daughter\u2019s adventures likely rival anything Mr. Twain can cook up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam chuckled, too. \u201cYeah, I have to admit giving my son ideas was a side effect of this story I hadn\u2019t given enough though to!\u201d<\/p>\n

They smiled at each other, each seeming as young as their children in their embarrassed yet clear mutual attraction.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell \u2026 thank you.\u201d\u00a0 She blushed and nodded her head, clutching her books closer.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re welcome. Again, my apologies for my clumsiness,\u201d he said quietly. She raised her eyes again, looking into that handsome face.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo need, Mr \u2026 Mr \u2026 \u201c<\/p>\n

\u2018Cartwright,\u201d he smiled, offering his hand.. \u201cAdam Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes widened as she accepted it. \u201cCartwright! Would you happen to have a brother?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would happen to have two,\u201d he grinned.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne named Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n

Now his turn to be surprised, Adam nodded. \u201cYes, Hoss is one of them. You\u2019ve met?\u201d<\/p>\n

She laughed and relaxed a little. \u201cWe\u2019ve met. My daughter nearly drove him to distraction chattering his ear off all the way from San Francisco!\u201d<\/p>\n

Dawn broke.\u00a0This must be the mother of the little hoyden Hoss had been talking about at dinner last night!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she smiled. \u201cYour brother is a very kind man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss likes young people,\u201d he chuckled. \u201cReally, he enjoyed her very much. Told us all about her at supper last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

An uneasy silence settled between them. Just as Adam was about to break it, Bill came out of the back room.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Adam! You\u2019re in luck! We had one in stock!\u201d he called across the store.<\/p>\n

Cursing the man\u2019s poor timing, Adam sighed and glanced at the woman. She smiled and walked toward the counter with him. She purchased her books; he purchased his pump. Bill watched the exchange with a knowing grin on his face as they sneaked peeks at each other through the transactions. Finally, their business was concluded, and Adam realized that he couldn\u2019t monopolize her time any further.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carter,\u201d he said warmly.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was nice to meet one of the brothers that Hoss talked about so warmly.\u201d She picked up her package of books, trying to think of something more to say to keep the attention of this man. \u201cPerhaps – perhaps Wendy and Patrick will meet each other today in school?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam grinned. \u201cMore than likely. It\u2019s a small school.\u201d<\/p>\n

“Oh… yes, yes, of course,” she murmured, blushing prettily.<\/p>\n

The pause was long again. \u201cWell, umm \u2026 good day,\u201d he said awkwardly, turning to pick up his wrapped pump to carry out to the buckboard. They walked to the doorway together, and Adam stopped, looking from the door to the heavy pump requiring both his hands in consternation.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, allow me, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d she teased, knowing he was trying to figure out how to be a gentleman and not drop the pump at the same time.<\/p>\n

He flushed a little as he smiled and allowed her to do it.<\/p>\n

She managed a bit of a ladylike smirk, and continued down the wooden walkway, gracefully swaying.<\/p>\n

Adam nearly tripped over the step as he continued forward yet keeping his eyes on her as she walked away, earning him a guffaw from Bill behind him.<\/p>\n

Irritably, Adam strode to the buckboard and placed the pump inside, studiously avoiding Bill\u2019s grin.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Adam\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Sighing, Adam turned back to the shopkeeper. Bill stood there, his arms crossed and a big grin on his face. \u201cSeems you Cartwrights are having memory problems lately. Or might be a problem with your eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam frowned. \u201cWhat?\u201d he asked, confused.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Joe\u2019s eyes were fastened on that pretty little schoolteacher yesterday when\u00a0he<\/em>\u00a0forgot them supplies, too. Like I say, must be some eye problem you Cartwrights have,\u201d he chuckled.<\/p>\n

Adam blushed to the tips of his ears and closed those traitorous eyes while Bill howled with laughter.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben Cartwright sat in his leather chair beside the roaring fire in the huge hearth, enjoying a rare moment of quiet after lunch. With Patrick now in school all day, Ben was able to sit and read quietly or do some paperwork, without jumping in startled terror every time he turned around. In the six months since his active grandson had arrived, Ben had forgotten the sensation of quiet and peace that the Ponderosa could have on workday afternoons when his sons were all busy with their work and he could relax for a few minutes. In those months, Ben\u2019s quiet afternoons had become punctuated with pounding feet that ran when they could have walked, a youthful voice that bellowed when it could have merely spoken, and laughter when the house had been silent. Ben smiled to himself, shaking his head. It might have been quieter, but it sure was less interesting.<\/p>\n

Ben looked up from his book as he heard the sounds of a buggy and horse enter the yard.\u00a0Must be Paul Martin, checking on our sick hands.<\/em>\u00a0 \u00a0He put down his book and headed for the door.<\/p>\n

Two of the hands had been complaining of fever and cold-like symptoms for a few days, and Ben had decided that it would be wise to have Paul come out to check them out. If the fevers hadn\u2019t been so high, Ben wouldn\u2019t have been concerned, but Hank, especially, was very sick and uncomfortable. Jake, Ben\u2019s longtime foreman, had confided in Ben that morning that Hank\u2019s wife, Abigail, said he hadn\u2019t been able to sleep much last night and was worried.<\/p>\n

Slipping on his coat, Ben walked out onto the porch. Sure enough, it was Doc Martin\u2019s buggy. Gathering his frock coat around him more tightly to ward off the chill air, Doc picked up his bag and headed toward the bunkhouse.<\/p>\n

\u201cPaul!\u201d called Ben, walking down the steps and toward him. He was startled by the tiredness etched into the features of his old friend. \u201cGood Lord, man, you look tired to death!\u201d he observed, concerned.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou would be, too, if you hadn\u2019t had a decent night\u2019s sleep in a week,\u201d said Paul, with a tired smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s been going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think we\u2019ve got an epidemic coming, Ben,\u201d the other man sighed, starting to walk again toward the bunkhouse. Ben, startled, fell into step beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cEpidemic! What do you mean?\u201d asked Ben in alarm.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve had nine cases of measles in the last five days, Ben,\u201d answered Paul, glancing at his friend. \u201cWhen Jake rode in this morning to let me know about Hank and Charlie, he reported symptoms of fever, runny nose, irritability, sore throat, correct?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, yes, but we thought it was just a bad cold,\u201d said Ben, uncertainly.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, your boys have had the measles. Surely you remember the symptoms?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben frowned, and Paul nodded. \u201cThose are the same symptoms people have in the prodromal stage of the disease.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe what?\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul chuckled. \u201cProdromal \u2026 before the patient breaks out in a rash.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben thought about it. \u201cYes, that\u2019s right, Hoss and Joe had measles the winter after Adam left for college. I seem to remember Hoss was awfully sick, but Joe came through with a pretty light case.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, that\u2019s what I remembered too, especially after checking my records,\u201d nodded Paul. He smiled wearily at Ben\u2019s questioning look. \u201cI checked all your family\u2019s records and what I knew of your hands. If measles has hit the Ponderosa, I might have to be ready for a major outbreak. Let me check Charlie and then Hank. Then I\u2019ll come over to the house and we\u2019ll chat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben sighed as Paul continued on into the bunkhouse, and turned back to the ranch, thoughtful. He, himself, had had measles while he was a young seaman; he remembered being miserably sick for two long weeks in the hot, sticky heat of the Pacific while they\u2019d been sailing near Barbados. At least Hank and Charlie didn\u2019t have to suffer through their illness in tropical heat as well.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Half an hour later, Hop Sing ushered Paul into the great room with a smile and promised coffee in a few minutes, before hurrying back to the kitchen. Ben gestured Paul to the blue chair opposite, inviting the doctor to warm his hands by the fire.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s definite. It\u2019s measles,\u201d sighed Paul resting his head back and sighing. \u201cI talked to the rest of the hands.\u00a0 Everyone but young Dave has had it, so you won\u2019t have much more to face in the bunkhouse at least. I\u2019ll have to ask Hop Sing. What about Patrick?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben, nonplused, shook his head. \u201cI have no idea, Paul. I wonder if even\u00a0he<\/em>\u00a0does?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf he was old enough, he would remember,\u201d mused Paul, nodding. \u201cWhen Adam brought him in last summer for his assessment I should have done a more detailed history, but the lad was so nervous about being around doctors I figured it could wait. Wish I\u2019d done it, now.\u201d Then Paul\u2019s eyes widened for a moment, and he turned to Ben. \u201cThat reminds me, I didn\u2019t see a notation of measles in Adam\u2019s records. What about him?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben, startled, looked at his friend. His eyes widened, and he tried to think. \u201cMy, goodness, I don\u2019t \u2026\u00a0 Well, now wait a minute, let me think. He had scarlet fever when he about four, scared the daylights out of me. We were still in Pennsylvania at that point, and he was one very sick little boy. Then, a few years back, Adam had pneumonia. Doc Wingate took over for you while you were in Denver, remember?\u00a0 We were pretty worried.\u00a0 Measles \u2026Lord, Paul, I have no idea! Hoss and Joe had them when he was away.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul nodded, worried. \u201cWell, talk to him, maybe he had them while in Boston. You see, measles epidemics tend to occur in cities, areas of dense population. They also hit in waves, usually two or three years apart. We\u2019ve been free of them for nearly four years, so I\u2019m guessing this one\u2019s going to be bad. We\u2019ve had a lot more youngsters born in the last four years, and the number of families moving in has been tremendous in that time.\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled at Hop Sing as the cook first offered him a cup of coffee, then passed a cup to Ben. \u201cThank you, \u2026 Oh, Hop Sing, I apologize for having to ask this of you, but it appears measles has hit the Ponderosa. Can you recall if you have ever had the disease?\u201d<\/p>\n

The Chinese man\u2019s eyes widened and he grew pensive. \u201cLed lash, all over body? Velly hot fever?\u201d he asked, thoughtfully.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, that\u2019s it,\u201d nodded Paul. Hop Sing sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Doctor,\u201d he nodded. \u201cWhen first arrive this country, many many Chinese have this led lash \u2026 many die. Velly bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMany died?\u201d asked Ben in shocked surprise.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes, Ben,\u201d nodded Paul seriously. \u201cMeasles can lead to some very serious illnesses. Encephalitis, which is an inflammation of the brain tissue and spinal cord. Pneumonia. If it isn\u2019t caught quickly and carefully nursed, this little childhood disease can definitely be deadly.\u201d He drained his cup and hauled himself wearily to his feet. \u201cI really must get back to town. This has been a long day already and it\u2019s only early afternoon!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben walked him to his buggy and resolved to talk to both Adam and Patrick when they arrived back at the house. Sighing, he shook his head. It seemed like life around here wasn\u2019t about to calm down any time soon.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Elizabeth Masterson glanced out over the quiet classroom, assessing her students. There were two more empty seats today. Measles was beginning to take a serious toll on her attendance, she sighed. As a young teacher, this was her first experience with an epidemic, and she was concerned. The littlest ones were the first to be hit by this illness, first and hardest.\u00a0 er lower grades were now empty except for a little boy in first and a little girl in fourth. After discussing the situation with Doc Martin, she began to keep a close eye on the rest of the children looking for symptoms.<\/p>\n

She struggled to keep a smile hidden as she noticed symptoms of a totally different kind of illness affecting young Patrick Cartwright. Apparently, his father had spoken to him, because he was at least putting in an effort in his schoolwork. But the disease he seemed to have succumbed to was that of adolescent love. The boy was absolutely smitten by the new girl, Wendy Carter. He\u2019d thought up two or three excuses to raise his hand and walk by her desk or be near her.<\/p>\n

She took a quick glance at the clock on the bookshelf.\u00a0 \u201cAll right, children, it\u2019s time for lunch.\u00a0 I suggest enjoying your meals outside; the\u00a0 fresh air will do you all good.\u00a0 Micah and Drew, would you be good enough to open all the windows so the classroom can be aired out?\u201d<\/p>\n

Usually in cold weather, students huddled in groups inside, but the weather had broken again. Today, the children were happy to find themselves outside enjoying the mild breeze.<\/p>\n

Well, most of them, Elizabeth thought, with amusement, as she watched the scene from a window.\u00a0 Poor Cassie Yates miserably moped around the schoolyard, gazing with hurt and anger at Wendy Carter and Pat Cartwright eating together over by the big oak tree. Mike Devlin was with a few of his cronies, though he occasionally glance quizzically back toward the oak tree.<\/p>\n

Cassie herself was seated alone on the school steps, munching on a chicken sandwich while watch as Wendy, seated in the swing, swayed gently, her pinafore and skirts billowing in the cold breeze while Pat was perched on a fallen log beside her. They were laughing and talking; the things she used to do with him! Cassie wished Pat had never come to school!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat, on the other hand, was beginning to think he\u2019d been wrong. School seemed to hold countless little niceties today.<\/p>\n

\u201cI heard somebody say you\u2019ve never been to school before?\u201d grinned Wendy, nibbling her sandwich.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he sighed, chomping on a piece of fried chicken. \u201cMy father was teachin\u2019 me at home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh. Must\u2019ve been hard to get into trouble that way,\u201d she grinned.<\/p>\n

He glanced at her, quizzically. \u201cWhaddya mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, you know \u2026 no, I guess maybe you don\u2019t, since you\u2019ve never been to school. Half the fun of school is playing jokes on people,\u201d she said simply, nibbling her lunch.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s eyes narrowed and he lowered his chicken, studying her. \u201cIt is?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure!\u201d She looked at him, with a naughty smile on her face. \u201cLet\u2019s see\u2026putting firecrackers in the wood stove. Soaking the chalk in water so it crumbles \u2026\u201d As Wendy went through her litany of practical jokes, Pat started to roar with laughter.<\/p>\n

\u201cThose are great!\u201d he sniggered, imagining the looks on people\u2019s faces. As a natural practical joker himself, he appreciated the imagination that went into them. \u201cHow did ya keep from gettin\u2019 inta trouble?\u201d he asked, with a smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I don\u2019t always get away with it,\u201d she admitted, \u201cbut having the best grades in the school helps.\u201d<\/p>\n

He raised his head from his lunch and looked at her. \u201cHuh?\u201d<\/p>\n

She wiped her fingers daintily on a checkered napkin. \u201cWell, I\u2019m a good student. Usually, I work hard enough that I\u2019m the top in my class. And when a joke backfires and I\u00a0do<\/em>\u00a0get into trouble, usually I\u2019m enough of the teacher\u2019s pet that I get off lightly.\u201d She grinned at him mischievously. \u201c\u2019Course, it works best when there are other practical jokers in the class, too. Then the teacher doesn\u2019t always figure out you\u2019re the one that did it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thoughtfully, Pat finished his chicken.<\/p>\n

Wendy studied him. \u201cI was watchin\u2019 you today. You\u2019re pretty smart yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jarred back to reality, he blushed.\u00a0She was watching\u00a0me<\/strong>?<\/em>\u00a0\u201cWell, I ain\u2019t stupid,\u201d he allowed, offhand, wiping his greasy fingers.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could do a lot better,\u201d she said bluntly.<\/p>\n

Stung, his jaw dropped and he glared at her.\u00a0 But all she did was giggle at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour arithmetic is great, but your spelling is awful,\u201d she explained.<\/p>\n

He recovered and shrugged, slightly mollified. \u201cYeah, I know. That\u2019s what Dad always said, too. But I guess you\u2019re right, studying and working at home don\u2019t leave much place for practical jokes, \u2018cept on my uncles.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about on your father?\u201d she grinned.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s eyebrows arched and he shook his head, a sardonic grin on his face. \u201cUnh unh\u2026.I like bein\u2019 able to sit comfortable, thanks!\u201d<\/p>\n

She laughed. She liked this boy. He was different. She recognized the Eastern nasal accent, and it didn\u2019t bother her. She knew other kids in the school found him a hard nut to crack. Mary, the girl next to her, said he was stuck up. But maybe it was just that he was like her.\u00a0 She\u2019d found that other children in the schools she\u2019d been in found her intelligence daunting and shied away from her. Until she started becoming the jokester of the class, anyway. Then they realized she liked fun as much as the rest of them and relaxed around her. He\u2019d never been to school before. Maybe he hadn\u2019t yet figured that out?<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I know what you mean. There was one school I was in where the teacher had no sense of humor at all,\u201d she sighed, frowning in her memories. \u201cI got caned once. He didn\u2019t appreciate it when I glued his spelling book pages together.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat chuckled and shook his head. \u201cWell, watch your step here. Miss Masterson is pretty much a good sport, but she can give that cane a workout, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stared at him in surprise. \u201cI thought you\u2019d only been in school a week. \u00a0You got caned?\u00a0Already?!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He squirmed a little. \u201cYeah, well\u2026 I got into a fight,\u201d he admitted. \u201cShe only gave me one lick, \u2018cos it was my first day.\u201d He blushed furiously; he couldn\u2019t believe this! Here he was, baring his heart and soul to a person he\u2019d only met a few hours ago!<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, we\u2019ll just have to be really careful,\u201d she said, tossing her curls devilishly. \u201cThen I\u2019ll just go and confess to the priest!\u201d she laughed.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s head snapped up and he stared at her in shocked surprise. She noted the look, and paled a little, looking uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d she asked, worried. She knew that sometimes people reacted badly to learning she was Catholic. For some reason, many people feared her just because of her religion.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothin\u2019,\u201d he replied, recovering and smiling. \u201cYou just surprised me. You Catholic?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she answered uneasily, still not completely trusting.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe, too!\u201d he grinned. The worry left her face and her smile wreathed her whole face.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are? How fun! We can see each other at Mass, then!\u201d she crowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I dunno.\u201d He squirmed a little. \u201cSee, my Dad isn\u2019t, so we go to the regular church here.\u201d He looked away when seeing her shocked expression.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut \u2026 but, Patrick, that\u2019s a sin, not to go to Mass,\u201d she said uneasily.\u00a0 A little hoyden she might be, but the basic and foundational beliefs she\u2019d been taught were rock solid for this young lady.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d he grunted, remembering the arguments between his mother and the faithful of Hell\u2019s Kitchen, who\u2019d worried about his religious upbringing, convinced both Riordans were ‘headed for the bad place!’\u00a0 \u201cBut \u2026\u201d His voice trailed off and he shrugged.<\/p>\n

She thought for a moment. \u201cThen it\u2019s your mother who\u2019s Catholic. Why doesn\u2019t she take you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe died. Last July.\u201d Pat was fervently wishing now he hadn\u2019t said a word. It was all so complicated. He hoped to God he didn\u2019t have to get into explaining he was a bastard to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh. I\u2019m sorry,\u201d she stammered, realizing that somehow she\u2019d put her foot in it.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s alright,\u201d he replied softly.<\/p>\n

Feeling bad for having put some kind of a wall between them, Wendy wrapped up her lunch things and put them into her lunch pail, carefully considering her words. \u00a0\u201cListen, Patrick,\u201d she said softly, \u201cit\u2019s all right. I\u2019m sorry I said what I did. Y\u2019know, about not going to church being a sin and all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNah, don\u2019t be. I should have been askin\u2019 my Dad to take me to Mass, I just \u2026 well, I guess it was just easier to go along with them. I miss it, though.\u201d He leaned back against the tree behind him for support. He drew in a deep breath, willing himself to be calm\u2026 talking about the past, about Hell\u2019s Kitchen\u2026 about Ma. That always upset him.\u00a0 When he felt he could speak normally, he swallowed and said, \u201cWhen I was real small, I remember goin\u2019 to a big church in New York with my Ma. She said it had somethin\u2019 to do with my own name.\u201d His face, struggling to remember, was ethereal to Wendy as she studied him, uneasily.\u00a0 He continued, \u201cThere was a brick wall around the church, I remember, and Ma said it was there to be protectin\u2019 the Irish.\u00a0 New York hated us so, so much. I remember feelin\u2019 it looked like nothin\u2019 I\u2019d ever seen in the Kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n

Wendy let go of her worry and looked at him and was touched by the sense of awe and reverence she saw that had grown in his face as he brought that long-past memory to his mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was so beautiful, bein\u2019 there,\u201d he whispered. \u201cI remember the sunlight comin\u2019 in through the stained-glass windows lookin\u2019\u00a0 like paint covering all of us there in the benches. Ma, I remember, had the most beautiful blue coverin\u2019 her face\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Wendy remained silent as she watched as he brought allowed a memory nearly twelve years past into the present.<\/p>\n

\u201cI remember the smell of the incense.\u201d His eyes were unfocused but clearly seeing something she could not see.\u00a0 \u201cAnd \u2026 I don\u2019t know, I remember the whole thing feelin\u2019 so…\u201d He waved a helpless hand, trying to find a word to describe the feeling \u201c\u2026 I don\u2019t know,\u00a0mysterious,<\/em>\u00a0I guess.\u201d\u00a0 His eyes suddenly focused, and he returned to the present and he looked back at her, a little abashed but also almost hopefully.\u00a0 \u201cI wonder\u2026 is Mass the same here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her gentle soul was touched by the longing she heard in his question.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you come on Sunday and find out?\u201d she asked gently. \u201cMaybe if you asked your father, he\u2019d bring you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure he would. I think it just kinda slipped his mind,\u201d nodded Pat, trying to shove the emotions to the background once more.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo it then,\u201d she said, bluntly.\u00a0 Intently.\u00a0 \u201cAsk him.\u201d<\/p>\n

A little surprised, he looked at her intense face.\u00a0 \u201cYeah,\u201d he sighed, smiling wanly at her. \u201cMaybe I will.\u201d<\/p>\n

Wendy could see he was a little sad now and decided that this young fellow needed some cheering up, and she was just the girl to do it, especially since she felt guilty about bringing this mood on in the first place. She cocked her head to one side, recognizing a kindred spirit. \u201cWanna play a joke?\u201d she asked softly, her blue eyes twinkling.<\/p>\n

Startled from his blue mood, he glanced at her, taking in the riotous curls, the pert green eyes and the big smile. He raised an eyebrow and slowly grinned. \u201cWhaddya have in mind?\u201d he asked, with his own \u00a0wicked smile.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe Cartwright was keeping a careful watch on his tongue and his manners as he drove the buggy through the beautiful, snow-capped trees of the hills and mountains around the Ponderosa. He had picked up Liz after school to take her for a ride. It was still crisp, though beautiful, so brought several buffalo robes to tuck around her to keep her warm.<\/p>\n

Now as they trotted through the hills, he glanced back at her and smiled. Her honey-blonde hair was escaping her warm hat and her cheeks were rosy with the fresh air. She looked relaxed and happy.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was wondering if I should dare ask what kind of a day my nephew had,\u201d he grinned, as they rode along.<\/p>\n

Liz chuckled. \u201cCan I assume he had a little chat with his father?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah!\u201d nodded Joe, grinning. \u201cAdam laid down the law, let me tell you!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI figured as much,\u201d she replied. \u201cHe was much more attentive. He even made up with Micah Devlin; they were chattering like a pair of magpies this afternoon. I had to speak rather firmly to them before they\u2019d settle down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m glad he had a good day. After the mood he was in this morning, I thought he might have ended up being worse than ever,\u201d sighed Joe, recalling the awful argument at the breakfast table.<\/p>\n

Liz shook her head. \u201cNo, he seemed much happier and he certainly was trying harder.\u201d She smiled as she remembered Patrick\u2019s animation when around Wendy. \u201cAnd I think your nephew has found something else to occupy his mind besides a bad temper.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh? What\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA new girl in class.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe glanced back, surprised. \u201cReally? What about Cassie?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCassie Yates?\u201d smirked Liz. Joe nodded. \u201cNo, I said a\u00a0new<\/em>\u00a0girl. Poor Cassie has been forgotten, I\u2019m afraid. And she\u2019s not happy about it, either.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe frowned a little at that. He remembered how close Pat and Cassie had been all winter. True, when the snows were really bad Pat hadn\u2019t been able to ride out to visit, but he didn\u2019t talk at all about having fallen out with her. Then Joe realized that, much like his father, Pat didn\u2019t talk much at all about his deepest feelings.<\/p>\n

Over the last few months, Joe had realized just exactly how much Patrick was like Adam, not just in looks. When he\u2019d first arrived, Pat\u2019s surly insolence had given Joe fits, and they\u2019d locked horns frequently. Once, in an argument, Pat had lost his temper with Joe\u2019s teasing and given Joe a black eye. He\u2019d been sorry immediately afterwards, but it made Joe realize that, like Adam, Pat took things very seriously and he decided to ease up on him a bit. Besides he didn\u2019t want another poke in the eye; the kid had a wicked right cross!<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, do you think Master Patrick will survive?\u201d grinned Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, he\u2019ll be fine,\u201d she concurred, smirking. \u201cI have a feeling that everything will work out. Oh, he\u2019ll have a few bad days, I\u2019m sure; and with that temper of his I wouldn\u2019t be a bit surprised if he finds himself in trouble again soon. To be honest, I\u2019d be worried about him if he didn\u2019t. He\u2019s a normal, healthy, bright and rambunctious fourteen-year-old boy.\u201d She laughed suddenly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d smiled Joe, wanting to be let in on the joke.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt appears everyone is back to normal!\u201d Liz\u2019 graceful eyes raised over her mischievous eyes. \u201cWe had a rather funny practical joke played at school today. Of course, I had to be stern and reprimand them all, since no one would own up to it, but it\u00a0was<\/em>\u00a0funny. \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d asked Joe, studiously looking ahead of himself, trying not to chuckle. Was Patrick feeling comfortable enough now to launch a joke campaign? God knew he was a wicked jokester at home!<\/p>\n

\u201cSomeone tied a rope around the outhouse while poor little George Evers was in there. George tends to monopolize the outhouse, you see, and is always being teased by the other children for staying there too long. He was so mortified when he discovered he was trapped, that he just sat there quietly for nearly an hour waiting for someone to come along and let him out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s giggle was infectious and Liz joined in.<\/p>\n

\u201cPoor little boy, he was awfully cold by the time I realized how long he\u2019d been gone. No one would own up to it, and quite honestly, I don\u2019t think anyone but the naughty one, of course, really knows who did it. They all laughed, but they also all looked surprised!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll bet George\u2019ll be careful not to hog the outhouse again real soon,\u201d laughed Joe.<\/p>\n

Liz contentedly cuddled under the robes.<\/p>\n

\u201cCold?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at all,\u201d she breathed contentedly. \u201cThis is just delightful, Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m freezing. Do you mind if I just pull up over there, where we can see the lake, and talk while I get a chance to warm up under my robe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course not. I should have realized.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe drew up Midnight to the bluff overlooking Lake Tahoe, tethered the horse and climbed back into the buggy with Liz, drawing his own buffalo robe up to his arms.\u00a0 \u201cBoy, that\u2019s better! My arms were getting numb,\u201d he said lightly.<\/p>\n

Liz let her warm brown eyes shine at him. \u201cJoe, this was awfully nice of you. I didn\u2019t realize how much I needed a break, a chance to get away for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy pleasure, ma\u2019am. I can\u2019t imagine a better way to spend an afternoon than taking a pretty lady out for a ride. Especially when the fresh air makes her even prettier.\u201d<\/p>\n

She blushed a little, increasing the rosiness of her cheeks, and turned, smiling back at the view. \u201cIt\u2019s just beautiful, Joe. You must spend a lot of time up here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he sighed, snuggling a little closer. \u201cPa tells me when he first arrived here, with Adam and Hoss, he took one look at this place and decided this was where he was going to settle. He was originally planning to go on to California, but this sight, right here, made up his mind for him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust with Adam and Hoss?\u201d she turned back, questioning.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. See, we\u2019re only half-brothers, technically, I guess you \u2018d say, though we only mention it when we\u2019re angry with each other\u201d he grinned. \u201cPa married Adam\u2019s mother in Boston. She was the daughter of a sea captain Pa served under as a sailor. Pa had always had a dream to come west, and she was happy to come with him once they\u2019d saved up enough. But she died in childbirth with Adam. Pa finally started the move west, and along the way he met Hoss\u2019 mother, in Illinois. She was a real lovely lady, Swedish. Hoss was born on the wagon train west. He wasn\u2019t more than a couple months old when they reached Ash Hollow, where Inger was killed in an Indian attack.\u201d<\/p>\n

Liz\u2019s face reflected the sadness and horror of the tale she was hearing.\u00a0 \u201cYour father has suffered a great deal of loss. Your mother, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he sighed quietly. \u201cHe met my mother on a business trip to New Orleans. I was born here, just after the house was built. She died in a riding accident when I was five.\u201d Joe quietly gazed out at the lake, and pointed. \u201cShe\u2019s buried down there, in Sand Cove, right near the lake. She and Pa loved it there. Just before she died, we went there for my fifth birthday as a family, and I guess sometime during the day she told Adam how much she loved it and never wanted to leave it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen she died, Pa was \u2026 well, he was totally grief-stricken. You know how some people get when they\u2019ve suffered a loss. Well, Adam had to run the ranch, keep me and Hoss from running wild; but he remembered what my mother had said, and decided that she should be buried there. He was only seventeen.\u201d Joe\u2019s voice trailed off, as he recalled that awful time in young life. It had been Adam who made sure he ate his meals; washed behind his ears and tucked him in at night with a song or a story; comforted him in the night when horrible, terrifying dreams propelled him up out of sleep, screaming for his mother.<\/p>\n

Liz watched the tender expressions play out on Joe\u2019s face. \u201cYou love your family very much, don\u2019t you?\u201d she murmured, gently.<\/p>\n

He smiled sadly, and swung his eyes back to her. \u201cThey\u2019re the greatest possession I have, Liz. Sometimes I tend to forget what they mean to me and take them for granted. I suppose everyone does that. I guess it\u2019s true we\u2019ve had a lot of heartache in our family, but we\u2019ve had a lot of joy and good times, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Patrick fits right in?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe chuckled. \u201cMost of the time,\u201d he allowed, gently slipping an arm behind her shoulders. Liz grinned herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d she teased. \u201cWhat, exactly, are your intentions?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy intentions\u2026hmmm. To get a little warmer?\u201d He leaned toward her. She stayed comfortably still and allowed his lips to lightly brush her cheek. \u201cMaybe to kiss a beautiful woman?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe,\u201d she whispered in return, turning her face up to his. Quietly, gently, Joe lightly kissed her willing mouth, a long, slow, deep kiss. Liz was breathless when they broke, and her eyes wide. \u201cMaybe…\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at her questioning.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe \u2026 again?\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled, and drew the buffalo robe up around them, protecting them from the cold breeze as he leaned forward and ducked under the robe, covering them both.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[1]<\/a>\u00a0As Ye Sow<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER SEVEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick Cartwright dragged his heels as he trudged from the barn to the house Saturday afternoon, one dirty, tired, hungry and irritated boy. He wearily hauled himself up to the porch, making a half-hearted attempt to slap the hay and barn dirt off his clothes outside the door before turning the handle and entering the house.<\/p>\n

The great room was empty. The boy yanked off his coat, tossed it toward the hooks of the coat rack, and missed.\u00a0 Cussing under his breath, he retrieved it and tried again, this time hitting his goal, but leaving barn dust and straw messing Hop Sing\u2019s beautifully buffed floors.\u00a0 He pulled off his hat and pitched it onto the polished sideboard, leaving traces of the same barn detritus there as well. \u00a0He didn\u2019t notice his boots leaving a trail of dirt as he walked through the house to the kitchen.<\/p>\n

Hop Sing was madly running around the room getting things pulled together for the big dinner that was planned tonight. Granddad had invited this Corrigan fellow to dinner, and Hop Sing got the impression that it was supposed to be spectacular. Pat had already been told he was to dress properly for dinner.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Hop Sing, can you fix me a sandwich or somethin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

A spate of Cantonese, which the boy understood completely, was thrown at him as the Chinese man bustled around his kitchen preparing the meal. The boy\u2019s face settled into a disgusted frown as he looked over the table and wood block workspace filled with ingredients and dishes in various stages of preparation.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, dammit, it ain\u2019t my fault I missed lunch!\u201d he protested petulantly, hungrily eyeing up some slices of cooked bacon. \u201cDad said I had to finish repairing that fence before I could come in!\u201d Of course, the fact that he\u2019d been daydreaming about a certain curly-haired, green-eyed girl might have slowed him a little\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cLeave alone!\u201d snapped the man, seeing Pat\u2019s predatory eye on the bacon. \u201cNeed for fancy grub! \u00a0You wait for suppah! Bad boy miss lunch, no get snacks,\u201d scolded Hop Sing as he set aside the bowl of butter and sugar he\u2019d been whipping, turning away to reach for the confectioner\u2019s sugar to add more.<\/p>\n

Pat reached out a dirty finger toward the bowl of icing Hop Sing had just started and set down, figuring he was safe.\u00a0 Out of nowhere, a vanilla-covered spoon cracked down on his fingers before they managed to dip in to the icing bowl.<\/p>\n

\u201cOw!\u201d He winced as he snatched back his hand, massaging his aching knuckles. Then, noticing the icing, popping them into his mouth to lick off the sweet, white confection while pouting at Hop Sing.<\/p>\n

\u2018Velly bad boy!\u201d scolded the cook, angrily waving the spoon at him. \u201cKeep dirty hands out of cooking! You leave light now!\u201d Two or three well-aimed swats from Hop Sing\u2019s vanilla-covered wooden spoon propelled him quickly out of the kitchen.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Hop Sing, I\u2019m hungry!\u201d he complained, rubbing his seat.\u00a0 He frowned as his hand hit something sticky. \u00a0Pulling it up before him, he saw icing. \u00a0He sighed. Better than nothin\u2019, I guess.\u00a0 <\/em>He licked the sweet confection off his fingers and walked into the living room, nearly sitting his vanilla\u2019ed butt down before he remembered. Instead, he reached toward the fire and warmed his hands, yawning.<\/p>\n

He turned toward the door as he heard laughter and the pounding of boots on the front porch.\u00a0 The front door opened, revealing the rest of the Cartwrights, two trying to enter at once. Uncle Hoss finally stepped aside and let Uncle Joe in first, followed by Granddad, then his father.<\/p>\n

Pat scowled and turned back to the fireplace.<\/p>\n

Adam sighed, bracing for another difficult evening. \u201cChores all finished?\u201d he asked pleasantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Pat grunted. He moved to drop heavily into the blue velvet chair, but his descent was abruptly halted.<\/p>\n

Ben had grabbed his arm, quickly pulling him up and turning a very surprised grandson away to examine the seat of his jeans.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey!\u201d\u00a0 Pat twisted like an eel on a hook, struggling to get his hindquarters away from his grandfather\u2019s reach.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the devil is this?\u201d Ben demanded.. He raised a dark brow, studying first his finger full of sticky, white goo then looked questioningly at Pat.<\/p>\n

\u201cIcing,\u201d the boy muttered, sheepishly.<\/p>\n

Hoss did a double-take, staring at the seat of Patrick\u2019s pants. \u201cIcing?\u201d<\/p>\n

The youth shot him a glare. \u201cLook, just don\u2019t ask,\u201d he snapped, starting for the stairs as soon as Granddad mercifully released him. \u201cI\u2019m gonna get changed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoa,\u201d said Adam quietly, taking his other arm, wheeling him around and steering him back toward the kitchen, \u201cright out to the wash house, buster. You\u2019re filthy, and it\u2019s going to take a hot bath to clean you up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor cryin\u2019 out loud, Dad, it\u2019s just dust!\u201d protested Patrick, heartily sick of this square dance the adults in his life were determined to perpetrate.\u00a0 \u201cLemme go!\u00a0 I ain\u2019t no chess piece, y\u2019know!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCareful of the tone, young fella,\u201d Adam warned, though mildly.<\/p>\n

Pat icily removed himself from his father\u2019s grip, his scowl eloquent.<\/p>\n

\u201cNeed some help washing?\u201d asked Adam sweetly.<\/p>\n

Seething, his son stomped toward the kitchen, then turned back. \u201cWhat about clothes?\u201d he demanded. \u201cAm I s\u2019posed ta parade naked back through the house?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben felt his right hand itching for his belt buckle, and harrumphed<\/em>!, striding to his leather chair and pulling out his pipe and tobacco, black brows knitted together and his mouth clamped as tightly shut as his grandson\u2019s had been a moment earlier.<\/p>\n

All Hoss could notice was that the scowl on Pat\u2019s and Pa\u2019s faces were pretty much identical and had to turn away slightly to keep from chuckling.\u00a0 As he turned his eye caught Joe\u2019s face, and both swallowed down their laughter. Clearly, Joe\u2019d been observing the same family resemblance.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get them,\u201d nodded his father. \u201cYou just go and get washed. Hop Sing has the baths kettles over the fire. Our dinner guest will be here in less than two hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grumbling to himself, Patrick stomped through the kitchen, causing another wave of angry Chinese to be heard from the back area. \u201cHe told me I had to, dammit!\u201d they heard wafting over the Oriental spate of temper.<\/p>\n

\u201cMind your language!\u201d called out Adam, sternly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir!\u201d<\/em> came the snapped reply as Pat angrily slammed the door between the kitchen and the wash house.<\/p>\n

“Such a sweet child,” Adam observed, dryly.<\/p>\n

Joe’s machine-gun giggle filled the room, as he shook his head. \u201cHe\u2019s still pretty upset about being confined to the ranch, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFurious,\u201d sighed Adam, heading toward the stairs.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Upstairs, he opened the door to his son\u2019s room, and his eyes widened in shock. He glanced back down at the floor near the door, rather amazed he\u2019d been able to open it at all.<\/p>\n

Books were piled haphazardly by the bed, on the bedside table, and on the table resting beside the sunny, east-facing window near an overstuffed chair.\u00a0 Draped on every surface of bureau, bedpost and other furniture were clothes in every stage from dirty to likely fresh out of the laundry.\u00a0 A leather tangle that Adam recognized as a new bridle Pat was making for Black Jack lay in a pile of leather punches, an awl and some studs on his desk. The boy was obviously experimenting with some ideas for decorating the bridle.<\/p>\n

Adam took a wary step forward to avoid stepping on school papers strewn on the braided rug; clearly Pat had been stretched out on his belly working on something as there were pencils and sheets of paper (and a pen knife and shavings) covered in sketches looking like a military campaign map, littering the rug. He twisted slightly to avoid stepping on his son\u2019s slate, half-hidden by a dirty shirt, but swore as he stepped instead on something else that sent him sliding.\u00a0 Looking down, he grimaced, shaking his head.\u00a0 Bending over, he collected two colorful marbles from the Solitaire de Venecia game Pat had received for Christmas from his great-grandfather Stoddard. \u00a0He spied the rest of it peeking out from under the bed.<\/p>\n

Playing cards, charcoal pencils for drawing, gum erasers, dice \u2013 dice?!<\/em><\/strong> \u2013 tabletop ninepins (which were nowhere near a table), and set of jackstraws were all in a jumble on the floor beside the armchair.<\/p>\n

Adam exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Exasperated, he knew exactly where his young son would be spending tomorrow afternoon between church and supper. Thank God he’s past the age of keeping mice or dead birds in his room. Speaking of mice… <\/em>He was also thankful it appeared Hop Sing was making sure no food was left around.<\/p>\n

He slowly picked his way across the room, stepping carefully over more piles of dirty clothes, books and God only knew what else, trying to get the armoire.<\/p>\n

He opened it, and sighed. Everything was dumped on the floor of the wardrobe, including Pat\u2019s dress trousers. Shaking his head, Adam gathered a white shirt, reasonably unwrinkled, the dress pants on the floor of the wardrobe, socks and other necessities and carefully backtracked to the door, then returned downstairs with them.<\/p>\n

Out in the wash house, he heard evidence that Patrick was enjoying his bath, luxuriating in the hot water, soaping his hair, humming to himself and splashing noisily.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s your clothes,\u201d said Adam, draping them neatly over the clothes rack. \u201cHurry up, now, your uncles need to get in here too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, okay,\u201d the boy sighed, lazily stretching in the water. With a yelp, Pat nearly shot up out of the bathtub, coughing and sputtering as his father dumped a rinsing pot full of icy cold water over his soapy head.<\/p>\n

\u201cHurry up!\u201d he grinned on his way out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam nursed his glass of wine as he listened to Eamon Corrigan talk with Pat with about the history of Ireland, and also some of its folklore.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve heard tell o\u2019 the Children o\u2019 Lir, have ye not?\u201d smiled the man as he swirled his wine in his glass.<\/p>\n

Pat chuckled and leaned back in his chair. \u201cThe four swans, Fionnuala, Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn?\u201d He raised a black brow.\u00a0 \u201cAccording to old Kevin, our neighborhood\u2019s shanachie<\/em>, every Irish child needed t\u2019know the story of their fortitude and faith, and t\u2019believe that transformation and redemption\u2019s always possible.\u201d\u00a0 Pat\u2019s eyes widened slightly in surprise, as did his family\u2019s.\u00a0 Throughout his first thirteen years of life, Kevin Shaughnessy had indeed instructed him, and all of the neighborhood\u2019s children, in the history and folklore of Ireland, so well that this rote phrase slipped off his tongue as though he\u2019d read it aloud.<\/p>\n

Eamon Corrigan smiled to himself, nodding. \u201cGlad I am t\u2019hear it.\u201d And he pleasantly kept up the conversation at the table, talking of the magic of Ireland, trying to gauge just how much the boy, and his family, really knew of the island country. Over the course of the evening, he was able to gain a fairly good idea of his hosts, as well.<\/p>\n

Just as he\u2019d suspected, this Adam Cartwright was a canny one. As Eamon studied the man, he guessed there must be some French, Italian or Spanish blood in there, noting the wavy black hair and hot, dark eyes. He would have to be most careful when talking with this man, who looked nearly black Irish himself with his black hair; that effect was marred\u00a0from the Irish look by rich olive skin and a pair of the most intelligent dark hazel eyes he\u2019d faced in years.<\/p>\n

For himself, Adam heard echoes of the tavern where he\u2019d met Pat\u2019s mother in Eamon Corrigan\u2019s speech. He found the memories crowding the table along with his family and their guest, and shifted slightly in his chair, attempting to rid himself of the wash of sounds and sights from fifteen years in the past.<\/p>\n

Early in the dinner conversation, Ben had raised the idea that Adam be the go-between for Corrigan\u2019s meeting with John Mackay.<\/p>\n

\u201cSince you and John have such a good working relationship, I thought you might be the best person to make that introduction,\u201d suggested Ben, quietly, his black eyes locking with his son\u2019s, his expression slightly hidden behind his wine glass as he took a sip.<\/p>\n

Adam tipped his head to one side, seeing the slight alert his father\u2019s expression presented.\u00a0 He allowed the corners of his mouth to tip up, though the smile didn\u2019t fully reach his eyes. \u201cYes, of course.\u00a0 I\u2019m sure John would be happy to hear you out, Mr. Corrigan,\u201d he said easily.\u00a0 He, too, had alarm bells ringing in response to the jovial Irishman seated at the table.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t that there was anything solidly said or indicated that he could put his finger on, but Adam would swear there was a distinct ulterior motive behind the man\u2019s request for introductions.\u00a0 He just didn\u2019t know, yet, what that motive might be.\u00a0 In some ways, Corrigan reminded him of Frederick Kyle[1]<\/a> and that alone was enough to put Cartwright on the alert.\u00a0 But Adam also knew that John Mackay was no fool. He was more than capable of handling just about anything coming at him, including an Irishman with an agenda of his own.<\/p>\n

Of the other two brothers, Corrigan observed Hoss to be just the same as he\u2019d been on the stage ride: open and honest, friendly and warm.\u00a0 But discussions of the Ponderosa\u2019s cattle operation revealed a solid intelligence and good sense, too.\u00a0 Corrigan concluded that, just as Brendan Flaherty had said in San Francisco, this man wasn\u2019t an idiot. He simply wasn\u2019t canny to the ways of the world beyond the animals and workings of the family\u2019s ranch.<\/p>\n

Of the youngest brother, Joe, Corrigan smiled, seeing much of his own son Sean in his personality. He was witty and bright, charming and likely impetuous. Yet, listening to him talk about the ranch\u2019s horses made it clear that he, too, had his strengths and areas of considerable expertise.<\/p>\n

But that young Patrick!\u00a0 Corrigan beamed to himself, remembering Sean at that age! He was a tall, handsome youth, in his features a dead ringer for his father, but with skin a bit fairer, and brilliant Irish blue eyes. Again, like his father, the intelligence of those blue eyes was remarkable, and while he said very little during the meal, took in everything. As Corrigan talked of Ireland and the Rebellion, he could see this youngster was following every single word. In the few times Patrick spoke, Corrigan had picked up what sounded like a surprisingly nasal New York accent. He wondered what the story was behind this boy.<\/p>\n

Corrigan had kept his conversation light, sharing stories of the shanachies, the fairies, the banshees, widening everyone\u2019s eyes a bit, except those of Ben, Adam, and the boy. Corrigan smiled to himself as he realized these three were the least likely to be swayed by blarney.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave ye never been to Ireland, Mr. Cartwright?\u201d asked Eamon with a smile as Ben poured after-dinner brandies in the large area before the huge stone hearth and passed them around the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019m afraid I haven\u2019t. I did visit England briefly as a seaman, put into Portsmouth Harbor several times during our voyages, but I never made it to Ireland,\u201d answered Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you, sir?\u201d Eamon asked Adam, who merely shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019m afraid I\u2019ve never been beyond the confines of the states. I\u2019ve been back East, know Boston pretty well, but beyond that, no.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBack East! That\u2019s where this handsome young pup was whelped, then!\u201d grinned, beaming at Patrick.\u00a0 \u201cI knew I heard an Eastern twist o\u2019 the tongue.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s mouth firmed, but he said nothing, choosing instead to let that silence hang as he sipped his brandy.\u00a0 Hoss and Joe exchanged glances, but Ben merely sat back, his fingers steepled as his arms rested on the arms of his red leather chair.<\/p>\n

Pat was intrigued, though.\u00a0 He knows an eastern accent.\u00a0 Could this guy know Hell\u2019s Kitchen? <\/em>\u201cYeah, I\u2019m from New York,\u201d nodded Pat, sipping at the glass of cider he\u2019d been presented with; no brandy for him, he\u2019d noted with disgust. \u201cYou been there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, lad.\u00a0 Stopped there on the way west. The Tenderloin, Five Points, Hester Street\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat bolted upright so sharply that his father turned in surprise. \u201cHester Street! You know Hester Street!?\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan, also surprised, looked at the boy. What could he<\/strong> know of Hell\u2019s Kitchen, with the wealth this family possessed?! <\/em>\u201cWhy, nothing more than a few friends from Ireland and pubs along the street. It\u2019s a section of town that the toffs don\u2019t often enter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t I know it!\u201d grinned Patrick, for the first time that night fully animated, instead of simply polite and quiet. \u201cI grew up there! My ma and I lived on Hester Street!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben and Adam exchanged uncomfortable glances, and Adam struggled with whether or not to shut the boy up or just let it go. This was his life, after all, and it was the first time in days he\u2019d seen him smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s an Irish part of town, to be sure,\u201d nodded the older man, eyeing the boy. No, he looked too much like his father to see anything of the people Corrigan knew. To be sure, the blue eyes must have been his mother\u2019s, or at least her family\u2019s. \u201cYour mother was Irish then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d grinned Patrick, falling back into the vernacular of his early childhood with a smooth ease. \u00a0Suddenly, he recalled himself, and glanced uneasily at his father.<\/p>\n

Corrigan picked up on the discomfort, and light dawned, his eyes narrowing. Ah, yes, a roll in the hay between a scion of a wealthy Orange family and some poor little Irish lass. She finds herself with a bun in the oven, and he leaves her to raise the child back east. Alone. \u00a0<\/em>Corrigan sipped at his brandy, keeping his eyes from meeting the elder Cartwrights, knowing his anger would give him away in a minute.<\/p>\n

Adam had noted the dawn breaking on Corrigan\u2019s face and shook his head, his lips firming. Patrick had seen it, too, but not his father’s reaction; he was far too focused on this man and what he might know of Pat’s old stomping grounds.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, she was Irish, Mr. Corrigan,\u201d he answered carefully. \u201cOne hundred percent Republican Irish. I spent a lot of my life in Brotherhood back rooms. She was from Armagh.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan raised an eyebrow and leaned a bit forward. \u201cArmagh, was it? What was her village, do ye know, lad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo I know?\u201d he laughed, his eyes sparkling with the memories. \u201cIt\u2019s burned inta me. I prolly know more about that place than I do about anything else. Lessee, there was a little church with a broken stained glass window. Some guy named McCorley who was the caretaker refuses to fix it c\u2019os it was broken by the great Tomas Guffey himself. And then there\u2019s a lover\u2019s lane at the end of the landlord\u2019s drive that had the fallen log young lovers could sit on while they kissed in the cool of the green glade. And McDermot\u2019s public house, they don\u2019t call \u2018em saloons, there, Ma said\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s voice drifted off in alarm as he saw the shocked look on Corrigan\u2019s face, his eyes wide and his face incredibly pale. Adam and Ben noticed it too, and Hoss, beside him, handed his own brandy glass to Pat to refill, gripping Corrigan\u2019s arm in concern.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no, I\u2019m all right,\u201d Eamon breathed hoarsely, waving the big man off, but not taking his eyes off the boy’s face. \u201cIs it Ballylynch, then? Ballylynch yer mother was from?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat, startled, nodded. \u201cYes, sir,\u201d he said, a bit baffled and concerned by the old man\u2019s reaction. \u201cShe was a Riordan.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan swallowed hard, shaking his head. Sure, and the devil himself must be involved in this mess. He\u2019d have to be, since God couldn\u2019t possibly come up with anything more trying or painful. <\/em>\u201cRiordan. \u2019Tis many years since I\u2019ve heard that name. The family was all but wiped out in Ballylynch,\u201d said Eamon carefully, still trying to gauge how much the boy knew.<\/p>\n

Feeling a little helpless, Adam\u2019s muscles ached with tension as he remained still, though closely observing the exchanges between Corrigan and Pat.\u00a0 It\u2019s not that I resent Pat talking about her.\u00a0 He needs to! God knows I suffered enough as a boy from Pa having such a hard time talking about my mother.<\/em>\u00a0 But here, with this particular topic, I\u2019m navigating unknown waters.<\/em><\/p>\n

While this conversation will likely upset him, it\u2019s clear Pat intends to follow through. And I have to give him that right; it was his life.\u00a0 The best I can do is be there to pick up the pieces when it\u2019s over.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYer tellin\u2019 me. The Prods hung \u2018em all.\u00a0 My uncles, my grandfather\u2026\u201d the boy was saying, coming a little closer, and offering Corrigan the brandy again. \u201cHere, drink this. Ya look like ya need it.\u201d<\/p>\n

And finally, the other shoe dropped. If it were possible, the Irishman blanched even more, though his hands firmed, one gripping the glass and the other reaching out to lightly grip the forearm of the boy in front of him.\u00a0 He studied the lad\u2019s face, and then focused on the eyes, and almost winced with the pain of remembrance. \u201cThen you\u2019re related to Paddy\u2026dear God in heaven, is it his grandson <\/em>ye are? The grandson of Paddy Riordan…P\u00e1dhraic \u00d3 Riord\u00e1?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat narrowed his eyes and cocked his head at the odd pronunciation of his name and smiled as memories flooded his mind. He remembered hearing it as a child and was surprised to hear memories of Irish phrases and conversation pepper his mind. \u201cI haven\u2019t heard my name in the Irish in a long time. P\u00e1dhraic<\/em>.\u201d He nodded slowly as he squatted down beside Corrigan.\u00a0 Carefully, correctly, he repeated the Irish pronunciation.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, lad, you\u2019ve got it. Ye were named for him then?\u201d Corrigan nodded, his mind working overtime. There was only one person who could have been his mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cYep. Ma said she wanted a Padhraic Riordan to always be alive someplace, since the bloody Orangemen hanged her da and brothers\u2026\u201d he answered.\u00a0 He was so focused on Eamon Corrigan that he missed the bemused expressions on his uncles\u2019 faces, and the serious exchanged glance between his father and grandfather. Adam shifted, uneasily, more and more worried about the direction this conversation could go.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou knew Ballylynch. Did you know him<\/em>? Didja know Paddy Riordan?\u201d Pat continued, curious.<\/p>\n

\u201cKnow him?\u201d Corrigan finally raised his eyes from the swirling brown liquid in the glass he\u2019d been holding and sadly looked up at the boy. \u201cKnow him, lad? There\u2019s lash marks on me back from the miserable Orange Black and Tans who whipped me while they hanged Paddy, and Liam, Conor and Tim, yer mother\u2019s brothers, for insurrection. She\u2019d have to have been Siobhan. Those blue Riordan eyes o\u2019 yours are no lie. They were Paddy\u2019s. Every one of his bairns had \u2018em. Yer mam… she was Siobhan Riordan?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick nodded, pale, and sat back, a little in shock.<\/p>\n

Adam winced. Siobhan<\/em>. This man knew Siobhan before she left Ireland, before she was scarred forever: scars her back from the flogging that preceded her banishment from Ireland, and scars on her heart from the hatred boiling over for the English and what they\u2019d done. Adam knew that had it not been for that pain, he\u2019d never have met her, Patrick would never have been born. He couldn\u2019t wish it had never happened, but he did wish she could have been spared the worst of it.<\/p>\n

Ben, Hoss and Joe felt a bit like members of an audience at a play, but a reluctant audience, and the play was one rapidly shifting from a depiction of a parlor game to a tragedy. They watched the drama unfold between the older Irishman, the younger man of English Protestant blood and the hybrid of the two, the youngster whose blood ran both Orange and Kelly green.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were there?\u201d breathed Pat, sitting down slowly on the oak table across from the older man, leaning forward, those intense blue eyes burning into the man.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye. Twas on a Thursday,\u201d whispered Eamon Corrigan, casting his mind back to that horrible day in 1855. \u201cPaddy and I and our lads had been outlaws to the English Crown for years, forever stirring up trouble here, insurrection there. The landlords knew better than to brutalize the widows and children because out o\u2019 nowhere we\u2019d crop up to surprise \u2018em,\u201d he said, darkly, with a cold, hard smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe told me.\u201d Pat\u2019s \u00a0own Celtic blood ran hot as he remembered the tales his mother would tell, both to him privately and at Fenian gatherings. \u201cThe name of Paddy Riordan was usually said very quietly, she said, since if ya knew him, the Orangemen would haul you off for questionin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye lad, tis true, that,\u201d agreed Corrigan leaning forward a bit, his faded red head close to Pat\u2019s black one, one pair of blue eyes looking deeply into the other. \u201cAnd knowin\u2019 Paddy Riordan could also mean losing what little property ye\u2019d been able to snare away from the bloody Orange.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the days before he died, Paddy had dragged every Riordan kinsman from miles around to vote in the election. He did not<\/em> cause the rioting that happened that Thursday after the ballots were counted and the Orange won by a landslide,\u201d he said with a sardonic, bitter smile. \u201c\u2019Course the fact that, physically, the RCs outnumbered the attending Orange three to one mattered not a whit. The election had to have a certain outcome, don\u2019t ye know.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen the villagers realized they\u2019d been oppressed yet again they erupted like a volcano, lad. A human mass bubbled out onto the streets, takin\u2019 in its wake anythin\u2019 and anyone it could, looting, burning\u2026several of the Orange landowners\u2019 houses were destroyed. And Paddy and his sons were blamed, though they\u2019d been long gone back to the hills. It took a few days to find ‘im and the lads, but ’twas betrayal that ultimately caused his capture. In the end, he was hanged for insurrection, Paddy was. When really all he\u2019d done was his duty, voting in the election.\u201d Eamon Corrigan stared out into the fire for a moment, while Patrick\u2019s eyes were down, staring at the pattern on the great room rug.<\/p>\n

Adam came around his son and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Pat, startled, looked up at his father, and noted the look of concern on his face. Pat smiled sadly and reached a hand up to his father\u2019s and squeezed. \u201cI\u2019m okay, Dad. It\u2019s nothin\u2019 I ain\u2019t heard before. Ma talked about it now and again. An\u2019 every once in a while there\u2019d be someone passin\u2019 through the Kitchen who knew Grandda.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Pat,\u201d sighed Adam, intensely grateful that the boy wasn\u2019t shutting him out. He quietly massaged his son\u2019s shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cSiobhan,\u201d Eamon repeated the musical name softly, leaning back again in his seat, reluctant to let this moment pass. \u00a0Here was a youthful connection to his own past, closer than he liked to think possible. \u201cShe was an incredible lass. All fire and passion. I remember a slip of a girl, slim as a reed, with an amazing mass of black hair flying back in the breeze as she ran from place to place. The lass never walked, she didn\u2019t, she felt it took too long. Had to run, she did. And when they hanged her father, her brothers\u2026when they wiped out her family, they had to banish her as well.\u201d<\/p>\n

Slowly, Eamon raised his head and stared at Adam Cartwright, realizing this man had loved her. And if not married her, had bedded her. A certain amount of anger surfaced, reflected in his eyes, as the realization struck him.<\/p>\n

Adam met his gaze, with no less anger of his own; anger that this man could bring all this up and forget the pain that it must be causing his boy. \u201cLook, I think this is a little depressing for Patrick, why don\u2019t we – \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cDepressing?\u201d snorted Pat. \u201cDad, this is the story of my life! And my family!\u201d\u00a0 The boy got to his feet and stared at his father, who eased off a bit at the anger. \u201cI wasn\u2019t reborn when I got here last August, y\u2019know! Everything I was in Hell\u2019s Kitchen, I brought with me here. This story is part of me, my <\/em><\/strong>story.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam studied his young son. \u201cI know that, Pat. I just didn\u2019t want you to be hurt.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cToo late for that,\u201d he grunted, frowning and turning away from his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat,\u201d chided Ben gently, but rising to his feet, upset at the turn this evening had taken. He regretted inviting this man into his home and wished he could undo it all.<\/p>\n

Patrick sighed and drew in a deep breath. \u201cSorry,\u201d said softly, glancing up at his father guiltily. Adam smiled sadly and gave him a supporting squeeze to the shoulder, nodding.<\/p>\n

Corrigan shook himself and rose to his feet, facing Ben. \u201cI\u2019m afraid I\u2019ve opened some old wounds,\u201d he said quietly. \u201c \u2018Tis that sorry I am, Mr. Cartwright. \u2018Twas not me intention to bring ye pain, or discomfort to yer family. I do apologize, truly. Perhaps I should have been more circumspect, it\u2019s just surprised I was.\u00a0 Ye see\u2026\u201d\u00a0 The man struggled to regain his composure, and shrugged, lifting his hands helplessly.\u00a0 After a couple of deep breaths, he began again.<\/p>\n

\u201cPaddy Riordan was me dearest friend, y’see. \u2018Tis most grateful I am that his family didn\u2019t die out. Young Padhraic, here\u2026he\u2019s livin\u2019 proof the Riordans will continue,\u201d he smiled, reaching out and placing a tender, gentle hand around the back of Pat\u2019s neck, squeezing him affectionately and wringing a smile out of the boy. \u201cThat, sor, that means a great deal to me. As respected as you are here, in Nevada\u2026that\u2019s how respected Paddy Riordan was in Ballylynch and County Armagh. \u2018Tis a lucky lad he is to have such strong, respected and remarkable grandfathers,\u201d Eamon nodded at the boy.<\/p>\n

Ben skillfully drew the conversation turned back to business, though with considerably less warmth than previously.<\/p>\n

Eamon Corrigan thought about his statement.\u00a0 Strong, respected and remarkable grandfathers<\/em>. The man inwardly seethed, struggling to keep his composure, and hoping these people attributed it to his memories.\u00a0 But for Eamon it was so much more.<\/p>\n

\u2018Twas I<\/strong> who should have been that grandfather!<\/em><\/p>\n

Eamon\u2019s only child Sean, had loved Siobhan Riordan as no other, with a passion that had just about devoured the young man. He was hanged alongside the Riordans that day, forever ending Eamon\u2019s hope for grandchildren, for his line continuing. And this boy standing here in this room, tall, handsome, bright and as full of passion as his mother and grandfather had been…that should have been his<\/em> grandson! Instead, he was the whelp of a bloody Orangeman.<\/p>\n

Ah, Paddy,<\/em> he thought, as Ben and Adam outlined various plans for furthering the introduction of Corrigan to mine owners and investors, Paddy, lad…It’s glad I am you were dead before ye could know Siobhan would betray ye so….<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

After Corrigan had departed, Adam was bone weary and decided to head up to bed early, to read a bit before sleep. Apparently, Patrick had been waiting for him to come up, despite having been sent to bed over an hour earlier; no more than two minutes after Adam arrived in his room and began tugging off his boots, there was a knock on the door, and Pat snaked his head around the jamb.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad? Can I talk to you for a minute?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d nodded Adam, neatly laying his boots beside his bed. \u201cWhat\u2019s up, besides you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat came into the room, still fully dressed, and his face thoughtful. \u201cI was wonderin\u2019… could I go to Mass tomorrow instead of your church?\u201d<\/p>\n

Surprised, Adam studied his son. \u201cWhy…sure, I don\u2019t see why not. I just don\u2019t know what time – \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cNine o\u2019clock,\u201d his son replied promptly.<\/p>\n

Adam grinned. \u201cGot it all checked out?\u201d Pat sighed heavily and sat down on the bed beside his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I was talkin\u2019 to this girl at school, and … well, it reminded me that, uh – \u201d he shifted a bit uncomfortably, and looked up at his father in embarrassment. \u201cWell, I ain\u2019t even supposed to be in<\/em> your church, and it\u2019s a sin for me not to be at Mass.\u201d The fact that his mother hadn\u2019t frequented a Roman Catholic Church in years \u2013 nor had he \u2013 was a fact he felt wasn\u2019t worth mentioning at the moment.\u00a0 All that was in his mind was a lovely girl with green eyes.<\/p>\n

Adam flushed a little. \u201cYeah, I know. I\u2019m sorry about that, Pat. I know I should have been getting you to Mass. That\u2019s more my fault than yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow would you <\/em>know?\u201d asked Pat, intrigued with this aspect of his father. Geez, wasn\u2019t there anything<\/strong> this father of mine doesn\u2019t know about?<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam smiled and lay back tiredly on the bed, lacing his hands behind his head. \u201cJoe\u2019s mother, Marie, was Catholic. She told me quite a bit about your faith.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat thought about that a moment. \u201cSo, Joe was supposed to be raised Catholic, too. How come Granddad didn\u2019t do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere wasn\u2019t a Catholic church here, then,\u201d answered Adam honestly, with a shrug. \u201cWhen Marie died, things were so confused and everybody was so grief-stricken … I think your grandfather had enough to do just to keep going, much less try to remember all the things he\u2019d need to know to raise Joe as a Catholic. After awhile, I think it just became easier to raise him in the faith we\u2019d always followed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKinda like me,\u201d said Pat quietly.<\/p>\n

Adam frowned. \u201cNo, not like you,\u201d he sighed, shaking his head. \u201cI have everything at my disposal to raise you as your mother would have wanted. I\u2019m sorry, Pat. Of course, I\u2019ll take you to Mass tomorrow. All right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you<\/em> go?\u201d asked Pat incredulously.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure. I just can\u2019t receive communion. And neither can you, until you make your confession,\u201d reminded Adam. Pat frowned; that\u2019s right, he\u2019d forgotten about that. Technically, he couldn\u2019t really receive communion at all.\u00a0 He\u2019d not gone to church to receive the training his friends did to make his first communion or to be confirmed.\u00a0 He did know he\u2019d been baptized, but that was it. Sighing, he pulled a leg up under himself and rested his arms on his crossed legs.<\/p>\n

Adam smiled indulgently; there was something on his son\u2019s mind, apparently. Reading would have to wait. \u201cWhat\u2019s troubling you, Pat?\u201d he asked gently.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothin\u2019, really, I guess,\u201d he said slowly. This evening\u2019s talk with Corrigan had pulled back old memories. It had reminded him of his mother. That, in turn, reminded him of his poor behavior yesterday morning. He\u2019d obeyed his father and accepted his punishment; he hadn\u2019t left the ranch Friday afternoon once home from school, and he\u2019d done the same today. But he hadn\u2019t yet truly apologized for his rudeness and now felt like as good a time as any.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just…well, I just wanted to say I was sorry for the way I talked to you yesterday. I was mad, and I guess I said more\u2019n I should\u2019ve.\u201d Blushing furiously, Patrick picked at the stitching in his father\u2019s quilt.<\/p>\n

Adam stifled a smile; this was usually the way Pat managed to make his apologies; late at night, here in his father\u2019s room. He could point to several patches of his quilt that had been mercilessly picked apart during these sessions over the last six months.<\/p>\n

\u201cI understand,\u201d he nodded. \u201cBut, son, that temper of yours is going to get you into hot water over and over again until you learn to control it. I guess it\u2019s normal, your mother sure had a wicked temper. And you come by it honestly from your grandfather. But he\u2019d be the first one to tell you that if you don\u2019t learn some self-control you\u2019re going to be an unhappy young man. You could talk to your Uncle Joe about it, too. He\u2019s been there,\u201d grinned Adam, remembering Joe\u2019s difficult times growing up with his hot nature.<\/p>\n

\u201cGranddad says I\u2019m more like you. That I hold it in and then blow over something little that don\u2019t have nothin\u2019 to do with whatever I\u2019m fightin\u2019 with somebody about,\u201d said Pat, with a small smile.<\/p>\n

Adam grinned. \u201cYeah, I guess I am like that, aren\u2019t I?\u201d He sighed. \u201cWell, I don\u2019t want to lecture you; after all, you\u2019re already being punished and you\u2019ve made your apologies. Let\u2019s put it in the past, all right?\u201d Pat nodded, sighing. \u201cGood. Now then, young fella, it\u2019s late and you should have been asleep hours ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, I\u2019m not a little kid,\u201d protested Pat, with a grin.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe not, but when you\u2019re overtired, you have a propensity to act like one,\u201d his father said with mock severity, sitting up and tousling his hair. \u201cNow, go on and get some sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

He rose and gently pulled his son to his feet, then stopped a moment, and turned the boy to him. God, has he gotten taller again? <\/em>\u201cPat,\u201d he hesitated, \u201care you all right? I mean, tonight\u2019s talk with Mr. Corrigan must have brought up some painful memories. Is there anything you want to talk about?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat smiled. \u201cNah, I\u2019m fine,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cIt\u2019s just kinda strange talkin\u2019 to somebody who really knew my family in Ireland, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019m sure,\u201d he nodded.<\/p>\n

Adam smiled and squeezed his shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, then, youngster, off to bed,\u201d he said turning him around and gently propelling him toward the door.<\/p>\n

Pat opened the door and slipped around it, then turned back. \u201cG\u2019night, Dad,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood night, son,\u201d answered Adam, his eyes warm and gentle. \u201cSleep well.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

St. Mary\u2019s in the Mountains Church was a beautiful new structure, completed less than a year before Pat arrived in Nevada, and when he entered it with his father Sunday morning, he was thrown back to his early childhood. The smell of the incense, the cloistered darkness, the beautiful vestments on the altar all evoked strong though hazy memories. His head tipped back as he looked at the ceilings and at the high stained-glass windows. He sighed contentedly; it felt good to be back. He slipped into the pew with his father, and automatically, through memories more than ten years old, went to the kneeler to offer his prayers of supplication. Adam smiled at him as he sat in the pew and studied his son\u2019s bowed head.<\/p>\n

After his prayers, Pat sat down beside his father and simply drank in the atmosphere of the church. Before long, others entered, many shocked and startled by the presence of a Cartwright in the church. The Cartwrights were known to be staunchly Presbyterian, and it shocked many of them to see Adam seated amongst them.<\/p>\n

Patrick tried to dig through his memory, to see what he might remember of the old Latin prayers. Though Siobhan had ultimately turned her back on her religion, various child minders had tried to save her son\u2019s soul by bringing him to Mass with them and their families, until the woman put a stop to it.\u00a0 Pat wished she hadn\u2019t.\u00a0 There had been a kind of peace found there he could garner nowhere else in Hell\u2019s Kitchen. Throughout the Mass, he found his memory filling in many of the blanks for him, letting him go to his knees at most of the proper times.<\/p>\n

Adam, understanding Latin from his college days, was able to follow the Mass. He then realized that most of the congregation doubtless had no idea what was being said and were simply repeating the prayers by rote. He also realized that the ritual and the rigid tradition served almost as a catalyst for meditation for many in the church that morning. He found himself remembering Marie saying how the peace and rote prayers of the Mass filled her soul, and how she missed it. He found himself wishing sadly she could have experienced Mass one last time before she’d died.<\/p>\n

It was a beautiful service. The priest was an older Irishman; his brogue even insinuated its way into the Latin of the Mass. Adam knew his name was Father O\u2019Reilly but had never met him before. He was deeply impressed by the dignity and humility of the man, and the sincerity of faith that he presented to his flock. He glanced once or twice down at his son and could see a sense of peace he\u2019d never noticed while the boy had attended one of his church\u2019s services. It served to increase his guilt that he hadn\u2019t made sure the boy was raised in his own faith. He would see to it that Pat got to Mass every Sunday and during holy days. He also considered talking to Father O\u2019Reilly about seeing that Pat got some instruction in his religion. He had the sensation it had been years since Pat had been to church, and it would do him some good to be refreshed in the teachings of his faith. He wondered if there was a Catholic equivalent of Sunday school?<\/p>\n

Patrick was relaxed and comfortable, and glanced around a bit after the consecration, during that quiet time after communion and before recessional. To his delight, he saw Wendy Carter and her mother sitting a few rows forward to the left of him, and she happened to peep back at the same time, her eyes and face alight with smiles of welcome. He grinned in return.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, I thought I saw a pair o\u2019 new faces out in the congregation!\u201d beamed the middle-aged priest as he extended a hand to Adam in welcome as they left the church.\u00a0 \u201c \u2018Tis Adam Cartwright, y\u2019are, am I not correct?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Father,\u201d smiled Adam, \u201cand this is my son, Patrick.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cProud I am to be meetin\u2019 ye, lad,\u201d smiled the priest at the good-looking youngster. Pat smiled back, pleasing his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cFather, could I possibly make an appointment to talk with you?\u201d asked Adam, realizing that there were people behind them, and not wanting to hold them up.<\/p>\n

\u201cSurely, surely, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d nodded Father O\u2019Reilly. \u201cIn fact, if ye\u2019d give me a quarter hour, why not come over to the rectory and we can talk, if ye\u2019d be free, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would be fine,\u201d smiled Adam. He and Pat went down the steps, and Adam turned to his son, who was looking back eagerly at those leaving the church. Who on earth is he looking for?<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam started as he saw Mrs. Carter coming out of the church.\u00a0 She smiled graciously at the priest and shook his hand, drawing forward a lovely young girl with curly brown hair and a big smile.\u00a0 He almost groaned to himself, remembering his unusually awkward behavior upon meeting her earlier in the week. He hoped to God she\u2019d already forgotten all about it\u2026 if, perhaps, not about him.\u00a0 In fact, he\u2019d even swallow down the embarrassment if he could manage to maneuver another meeting here in the churchyard.<\/p>\n

To his pleasure, he saw the two ladies descend the steps and saw the girl\u2019s smile widen as she nodded at Patrick, then hurriedly talk to her mother.\u00a0 Mrs. Carter hesitated for a moment, then she too smiled and allowed herself to be led toward the Cartwrights.<\/p>\n

It was at that point that Adam caught the wicked grin on Patrick\u2019s face mirrored in the devilishly pert eyes of the young girl at Mrs. Carter\u2019s side.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo that\u2019s Wendy, hm?\u201d he asked softly, nudging his son\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he answered, with a grin up at his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, I can remember my father telling me once that there was nothing like a woman to help a man find religion,\u201d said Adam, tongue in cheek. He\u2019d expected an embarrassed look or an angry glance; instead, he was a little disarmed by the worldly chuckle his son gave, nodding his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019ll say,\u201d he said, his voice sounding deeper to his father.<\/p>\n

Adam stirred and glanced at his son. He\u2019s not a little boy any longer,<\/em> he sighed. His boy was growing up, and the occasional glimpses of the young man to come was disconcerting to his father.<\/p>\n

As the Carters joined them Veronica could feel her cheeks blushing. She fervently hoped it looked more like the brisk February air causing it than her disconcertion at once again being in the presence of this charming, handsome man. She couldn\u2019t help chiding herself that it hadn\u2019t taken much for Wendy to convince her to come down and meet the two Cartwrights. What on earth is come over me?<\/em> she scolded herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning, Mrs. Carter.\u201d Adam tipped his hat first to the woman, then her daughter. Mrs. Carter nodded graciously and Wendy dropped a little curtsy, being her most charming self. Adam chuckled; that one sure must be a pistol and a half. <\/em>But his eyes quickly left the younger Carter fastening instead of her lovely mother. She really is lovely\u2026 extraordinary eyes, so much humor in there and intelligence\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, it appears Wendy and Patrick did meet at school on Friday,\u201d smiled Veronica, winking at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, it certainly does,\u201d agreed Adam. \u00a0Both parents gazed a little loftily at the children, who stared at their parents in surprise. \u00a0Both adults just barely managed to hold off a giggle at the expressions on Wendy and Pat\u2019s faces but couldn\u2019t contain bubbles of light laughter when they connected eyes once again.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I know how we<\/em> met,\u201d said Pat, with a slight air of sarcasm as he gestured between himself and Wendy, \u201cbut what about you two?\u201d<\/p>\n

Perplexed, Wendy nodded in agreement, her head nodding back and forth between the adults.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you think, Mrs. Carter?\u201d asked Adam loftily. \u201cThink we should allow a certain amount of privacy to remain between parents and children?\u201d<\/p>\n

Looking delighted with the light-hearted banter, Veronica\u2019s face shone. \u201cI think that\u2019s a perfectly reasonable request to make of our children, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d she acceded, eyes wide in assumed seriousness.<\/p>\n

The kids looked at each other, bewildered, then back at their parents, who were now chatting animatedly, almost unaware of their offspring.<\/p>\n

Aghast, Pat realized that his father was looking at Mrs. Carter in a way he\u2019d never seen him look at a woman before, and it made him thoroughly uneasy. What\u2019s goin\u2019 on here? Is Dad…..God almighty, is he fancyin\u2019 Wendy\u2019s mother?!<\/em> \u00a0The way he usedta\u2026 the way he usedta look at Ma?<\/strong><\/em> The thought made him very uncomfortable.\u00a0 Suddenly, the easy, happy mood he enjoyed at Mass disappeared, and he began to scowl.<\/p>\n

For herself, Wendy couldn\u2019t help but see the difference in her mother; how the sad, quiet woman who\u2019d replaced her vibrant Mama in the last year or so seemed to slip away in the presence of this nice man.\u00a0 She\u2019s \u2026 well, it\u2019s almost like she was before<\/em>, Wendy thought, feeling both sad and a little scared.\u00a0 The February sun sparkled on the snow surrounding them, making her mother\u2019s eyes brighter and more alive than she\u2019d seen them in ages. And it was clear Mr. Cartwright noticed them, too!<\/p>\n

As her mother\u2019s animation led her to speak with gestures and smiles, Wendy thought of what her mother\u2019s kid gloves hid on her left hand: a simple, but beautiful, wide gold wedding band.<\/p>\n

Knowing what she knew and knowing her mother was feeling a joy in living again made the girl feel forlorn. She feared that with things the way they were, this happy, alive and wonderful woman she loved so much would once again be forced to hide herself behind a veil of sadness.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[1]<\/a> \u201cA House Divided,\u201d Season One, Episode 18, written by Al C. Ward, directed by Lewis Allen<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER EIGHT<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Are you about finished?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam was reading his newspaper and getting ready to check Patrick\u2019s homework. He set his paper aside prepared to check, a habit begun after Pat\u2019s recent nonsense about refusing to do his work the previous week. The oversight reassured the man that the assignments were not only being completed, but with the boy\u2019s best efforts rather than a lick and a promise.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, just this last arithmetic problem,\u201d nodded Patrick, as he labored at the dining room table.<\/p>\n

Now, just a few days later, the shift was polarized. Adam was amazed by the effort Pat had been putting in. Even to the point of spending half an hour a day studying and drilling and practicing the hated spelling words. Adam had even heard him practicing spelling words in cadence with chopping wood for the kitchen wood supply.<\/p>\n

Pat must be somewhere near the very top of the class, if not there. And Adam was honestly proud of his achievement. But six months of fatherhood had taught him to be wary of surprising shifts in his son\u2019s behavior. Accepting big change without a murmur wasn\u2019t high on the list of normal behavior for Patrick. This young man wouldn\u2019t do a single thing without a sufficiently large motivation. So, wondered Adam, what was going on? He quickly dismissed simple scholastic excellent: not a big enough payback.\u00a0 While the man contemplated his boy, Patrick laid down his pencil and stretched, yawning. The youngster got to his feet and gathered his papers together. He\u2019d learned in the last three nights that he wasn\u2019t permitted to do anything else until Dad had checked his work.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou wanna look this over?\u201d he asked, handing his father his papers, straddling the arm of the settee.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, thank you,\u201d nodded Adam, accepting the papers and studying his son. Pat presented a perfectly innocent fa\u00e7ade: a pleasant expression, if somewhat blank.\u00a0 Eyes just a hair too wide, mouth, almost but not quite curving into a cheerful smile. Uh oh<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, I\u2019m kinda hungry. While you\u2019re lookin\u2019 at that, can I go get somethin\u2019 to eat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, go ahead,\u201d nodded Adam, looking down at his son\u2019s work.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n

As the boy\u2019s footsteps faded toward the kitchen, Adam\u2019s head remained down but he slowly raised his eyes and gazed after his son thoughtfully. Thanks?<\/em> Asking permission to get something to eat?! <\/em>\u00a0This boy is so damned independent that he found it nearly impossible to ask for help when he badly twisted his ankle and couldn\u2019t walk for a week.\u00a0 Who could fearlessly march into Hop Sing\u2019s domain with no other armor than his saucy tongue and actually cook his own meals when he was hungry, much less scavenge in a well-stocked kitchen without permission. Pat\u2019s motto could be Agnes Strickland\u2019s words, \u201cit being less difficult to obtain forgiveness for it after it was done, than permission for doing it.\u201d[1]<\/a><\/p>\n

And that was another thing: not once this week had Pat made any fuss about the rules. Not once had there been a snide comment; not once had there been a stamped foot, or an angry \u201cThat\u2019s not fair!\u201d Just quiet, peaceful acquiescence. And now, especially good manners? Adam rubbed his nose, thinking hard.<\/p>\n

Patrick Riordan Cartwright was definitely up to something.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hop Sing delivered platter after platter of mouth-watering fried ham, eggs, and flapjacks, with pots of coffee. Breakfast as usual on a workday at the Ponderosa. Hop Sing knew his family had to eat properly to get through the day. They were hard workers who needed to be well-fed to do their daily labor, and his job was to see that they were.<\/p>\n

Joe and Adam were seriously weighing the pros and cons of hiring hands for the upcoming spring cattle drive from the usual drovers advertising, knowing they\u2019d need to spend more this year to hire more hands due to the illnesses here on the ranch. Hoss and Ben were talking together about the likelihood of rounding up the estimated 4,500 head of cattle they hoped to find this spring. The winter had been a rough one, and they knew the toll a season like they\u2019d just gone through usually had on the numbers of the herd.<\/p>\n

Patrick sat at the breakfast table, mechanically forking egg into his mouth, obviously preoccupied. Ben occasionally glanced at his quiet grandson, wondering what was going on behind those blue eyes.<\/p>\n

As everyone finished up, Pat carefully set down his fork on his plate, and picked up his coffee cup, looking into it. Then he drew a deep breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cGranddad?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben glanced up and looked at his grandson. \u201cYes, Pat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what Mr. Corrigan was talking about the other night?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben, nonplused, first looked at his sons, then back at Patrick. \u201cAbout your family?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick stared a moment, blankly, then – realizing his grandfather wasn\u2019t keeping up – shook his head and waved a hand impatiently. \u201cNo, not about that. About the work he does. Raisin\u2019 funds and bullion and such.\u201d Once the words were out of his mouth, the boy uneasily picked up his fork again, as though needing something to fiddle with.<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s eyes narrowed a little as he heard the tightness of the boy\u2019s voice and noticed his tension. \u201cOh,\u201d nodded Ben, his brow not totally smoothing.\u00a0 His uneasiness at Corrigan\u2019s topic of conversation hadn\u2019t fully abated \u201cYes, what about it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I was wonderin\u2019…\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 Pat drew in a deep breath and slowly set down the fork again, raising his eyes and gazing directly into his grandfather\u2019s.\u00a0 \u201cIf you were gonna.\u201d\u00a0 He sat up a little straight, squared his shoulders a little more, his chin raising just a hair. It was as though once the words were out and he\u2019d committed himself, Pat was ready for battle.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s brows furrowed again.\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cIf I was going to what?\u201d He leaned toward Pat, trying hard to understand where this line of discussion was heading.<\/p>\n

Pat rolled his eyes, exhaling in frustration. He placed both hands on the table\u2019s edges, gripping hard enough to make his knuckles white.\u00a0 \u201cIf you were gonna help!\u201d<\/p>\n

And the penny dropped. Ben, now understanding what was percolating in his grandson\u2019s mind, looked first in concern at Pat, then at his sons.<\/p>\n

Adam, Hoss and Joe were now staring at him as well. Joe had uneasily set down his knife and fork and was cradling a coffee cup in his hands, his eyes darting between his father and his nephew, with the occasional peek at his oldest brother. He had memories of his own to contend with, memories associated with Frederick Kyle and with his mother. He felt for Pat but also had a good idea that his request was going to fall on pretty much deaf ears.<\/p>\n

Hoss continued to eat but wasn\u2019t unmoved.\u00a0 He remembered the passion in that boy\u2019s eyes the other night, the intensity. Watching Corrigan and Patrick he\u2019d seen a side of the youngster he\u2019d not seen since he\u2019d first arrived all those months ago.\u00a0 And he\u2019d frankly wondered how all those feelings were gonna find a way to surface.<\/p>\n

Adam, too, was starting to get an idea of where this was going, and prayed he was wrong. \u201cPatrick,\u201d said Adam, narrowing his eyes, but keeping his voice calm. \u201cWhat, exactly, are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJeez\u2026\u201d the boy muttered tightly under his breath. He shook his head in exasperation. I gotta spell it out for you? <\/em>\u00a0\u201cI\u2019m askin\u2019 if you\u2019re gonna help Mr. Corrigan!\u201d he declared.<\/p>\n

Ben sat back in silent shock.\u00a0 His head spun, trying to form an answer that wouldn\u2019t set the boy off, not shut down discussion altogether.\u00a0 \u201cPatrick\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, ya know what he\u2019s workin\u2019 for!\u201d said Patrick seriously, leaning forward to his grandfather.<\/p>\n

At that, Ben raised a black eyebrow and made his decision.\u00a0 The boy is nearing adulthood.\u00a0 Time to speak to him that way.\u00a0 <\/em>\u201cYes, I believe I do,\u201d nodded Ben, grimly, eyeing the youngster. \u201cAre you sure you <\/em>do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Now it was Pat\u2019s turn to sit back suddenly, straightening as though he\u2019d been slapped. His eyes widened a moment, his mouth open in shocked surprise.\u00a0 Then his face flushed and those black brows knit together, mirroring his grandfather\u2019s. \u201cWhat the hell – heck does that mean?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have any idea what the money he raises goes toward?\u201d asked his father quietly.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s head swung back to his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I do!\u201d he snapped. \u201cIt goes toward freein\u2019 Irishmen, slaves in their own country!\u201d His blue eyes blazed and his fair skin took on a ruddier hue, two bright spots of angry blood staining his cheekbones.<\/p>\n

Adam closed his eyes and sagged, feeling helpless. So much like your mother.\u00a0 I couldn\u2019t reason with her, what chance in hell have I got with you?! But I have to try.<\/em>\u00a0 \u201cPat -\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was askin\u2019 Granddad,\u201d said Pat firmly, dismissing him.<\/p>\n

Startled, Adam\u2019s brows knit and his mouth firmed, his shoulders hunching slightly as his own face hardened and red crept up his neck.<\/p>\n

Eyes round as saucers, Joe and Hoss gave up any pretension of continuing their meal.\u00a0 Each sat back slightly, as though unconsciously removing themselves as much as they could from the line of fire.<\/p>\n

But Pat had turned back to his grandfather. \u201cWill ya help?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPat,\u201d said Ben, suddenly holding up a hand to silence his oldest son for a moment, \u201cI\u2019ve had no request to help.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam seethed but waited.<\/p>\n

Pat blushed, disconcerted. He looked down at his plate for a moment, then set his mouth.\u00a0 His blue eyes rose again, deeply serious and looked at his grandfather. \u00a0\u201cWell, you\u2019ve got one from me,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you seriously asking me to give \u2026 to give money to this man?!\u201d asked Ben, incredulous.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s stubborn chin rose and he nodded.<\/p>\n

Ben drew in a deep breath. How in God\u2019s name do I answer this? This boy\u2019s soul is right there in those eyes.\u00a0 I have to show I respect his passion but\u2026 God, what do I say?!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, this is an inappropriate conversation,\u201d Adam began sternly, laying his cup down.<\/p>\n

Ben put out his hand again. \u201cNo, Adam, just a minute.\u201d \u00a0He turned to his grandson again and looked him in the eye, forcing himself to remain calm and reasoned. He chose his words carefully, and eyed the boy the entire time he spoke, looking for reactions. \u00a0\u201cPatrick, from what I know of the Irish troubles, I would imagine Mr. Corrigan is affiliated with the Fenian Movement. It is my understanding the Fenians are outlawed in Ireland.\u201d<\/p>\n

Despite the heightened emotions, Pat fearlessly held his grandfather\u2019s eyes and nodded. \u201cAye,\u201d he whispered. His eyes were glittering, his jaw tight; he was practically vibrating with tension. Ben could see the boy\u2019s composure was hanging by a thread. \u201cOutlawed. Like my grandfather. And my uncles. And my mother<\/em>.\u201d He swallowed hard. His eyes, if not his voice, pleaded with Ben.\u00a0 The one person he believed he could make understand. \u00a0\u201cThem, and the hundreds of thousands of others wanting desperately for their God-given freedom.\u201d<\/p>\n

Again, Adam felt eerily transported back to a Boston winter in 1857, hearing the ringing of his lover\u2019s voice and passion in her words as she struggled to make him understand.\u00a0 It was no less painful seeing it in their son. \u201cPat, there\u2019s got to be a better way to get there than unlawful insurrection.\u201d Adam tried to speak calmly.<\/p>\n

Hoss and Joe sat in between, heads swinging from one of the protagonists to another.<\/p>\n

The boy shook his head, frustrated, but with a major effort controlled himself and instead drew on every ounce of persuasion he possessed. Hauling in his breath, he hitched his chair a little closer to his grandfather and earnestly stared into the older man\u2019s dark eyes. \u201cAll my life I heard about the tyranny o\u2019 the Irish in my mother\u2019s country. The horror stories\u2026\u201d he shook his head. \u201cGranddad, unless you seen it, you don\u2019 know!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you have?\u201d asked his grandfather, seriously, gently.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, but my mother did!\u201d retorted Patrick, his eyes flashing. \u201cWouldja like me to tell ya how many stripes she had on her back from the sons o\u2019 bitches that whipped her? I seen them<\/em><\/strong>!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick!\u201d Adam was livid, slamming his napkin down.<\/p>\n

Ben closed his eyes and shook his head.\u00a0 Can\u2019t Adam see, can\u2019t he understand how deeply this was affecting the boy?!<\/em><\/p>\n

Sullenly, Pat stared at his plate, struggling for self-control. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Granddad. I shouldn\u2019t\u2019a said that,\u201d he grudgingly admitted, his face red. Then he raised his eyes, and they were filled with anguish. \u201cBut I\u2019m tellin\u2019 you we tried<\/em> goin\u2019 with the law. We tried using the system the right way, but it didn\u2019t work! All it earned us was more beatin\u2019s and hangin\u2019s and gettin\u2019 our shacks burned out from under us! How can you stand by and do nothin\u2019 ta help?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam winced. \u2026 “we”\u2026 oh, Pat.<\/em><\/p>\n

Ben felt the fire emanating from his grandson as nearly tangible, felt the fervency with which he voiced a cry of \u2018foul!\u2019 screamed by an entire people for generations upon generations; his grammar wasn\u2019t the best, but his gumption was pure and driven. Ben recognized it for what it was but knew more than this boy about the kind of man Eamon Corrigan and his ilk were.<\/p>\n

Sadly, he shook his head, \u201cNo, Patrick.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGranddad!\u201d Pat sat back aghast. He was unable to believe his grandfather, his beloved Granddad, could turn his back on him, on his people.<\/p>\n

Ben drew in breath, readying himself to try to explain his position when he stopped, startled to see Adam shoot abruptly to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, that\u2019s enough.\u201d Adam cut him off. \u201cPat, it\u2019s getting late. It\u2019s time for you to get to school.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cNo buts!\u201d snapped his father, slapping his palms on the table.<\/p>\n

Both Hoss and Joe jumped in surprise.<\/p>\n

Adam leaned forward toward his son. \u201cIn case you haven\u2019t figured it out yet, the Ponderosa doesn\u2019t finance illegal operations! Any money given to Corrigan would go towards guns and ammunition to cause a bloody war! And as downtrodden as the Irish Catholics are, and I concede they are, money from this ranch will not be used to finance their liberation. Not using those methods! Have I made myself clear?\u201d Hands now on his hips, Adam glared at his son.<\/p>\n

Without realizing it, Adam sounded just like the heathen, oppressive Orangemen Pat had always hated.\u00a0 The man couldn\u2019t have done more to widen the gap between them if he\u2019d deliberately tried.<\/p>\n

Pat started to protest but saw it would get him nowhere. \u201cYes, sir,\u201d Pat muttered, shoving back his chair and pushing himself to his feet. Head down, he strode to the door.<\/p>\n

His books were strapped together on the sideboard along with his saddlebags. Angrily, he shrugged into his coat, slapped his hat on his head, and stormed out, his saddlebags just missing being caught in the slammed door.<\/p>\n

Joe and Hoss sat back a little and looked worriedly between father and brother. Ben was leaning back, rubbing his mouth with his hand, lost in thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you think you were a little rough on him, Adam?\u201d asked Joe, quietly.<\/p>\n

Adam glared at his younger brother. \u201cOh, you think so?\u201d he snapped. \u201cYou think swearing at his grandfather, asking for money\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was talkin\u2019 about somethin\u2019 that means a lot to him, Adam, and you know it,\u201d retorted Hoss, his face dark as he scowled.<\/p>\n

Adam was startled into silence by Hoss\u2019 unexpectedly angry response.\u00a0 Hoss lumbered to his feet, slapping his napkin down onto his plate, still with portions of his breakfast remaining.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s eyebrow rose; there was no clearer indicator of Hoss\u2019 emotional state than his leaving an unfinished plate on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd he was right about the other night, too, y\u2019know. He brought all he is here with him when he got here last year. Ya can\u2019t expect him to just erase everthin\u2019 he grew up with, everthin\u2019 he learned as a young\u2019un, just \u2018cos he ain\u2019t in Hell\u2019s Kitchen no more.\u201d<\/p>\n

And with that, Hoss pushed past his surprised older brother on his way out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

That afternoon after school, Pat sat on his horse, at the edge of town doing serious battle with his conscience. He was torn between knowing he should go home to get his chores done, obeying his father\u2019s order that he was confined to the ranch for a week, or visiting Corrigan. But that punishment had rankled ever since it was imposed last week.<\/p>\n

While he admitted he shouldn\u2019t have tried to slip that failing arithmetic grade past him, he felt Dad\u2019s response had been far too much of an overreaction. I mean, hells bells, \u00a0ain\u2019t he never tried to pull somethin\u2019 like that on Granddad?\u00a0 <\/em>Pat sighed to himself.\u00a0 No, not likely.\u00a0 Not Saint Adam\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat grunted, hooking a long leg around the saddle horn musing. Ha! Adam Cartwright had probably floated through his childhood with an angel\u2019s harp in his hands, <\/em>he thought sourly.<\/p>\n

He sighed and glanced back at the road leading into the center of town. At school, he\u2019d heard Jeff Doherty talking about how Corrigan was staying at the International House but had rented a room at the back of Doherty\u2019s father\u2019s saloon, the Bucket of Blood. Every Irishman in the surrounding area was coming there in the afternoons and evenings, with Corrigan holding court like a king.<\/p>\n

Pat recognized the pattern. God knows he\u2019d grown up with it. That backroom at the Witch\u2019s Broth had certainly seen its share of Fenian talk, from both those living in Hell\u2019s Kitchen as well as the visiting Fenians that passed through. Perhaps, at some point or another, Corrigan had been there when he was? \u00a0Pat frowned and shook his head.\u00a0 He couldn\u2019t imagine that to be true. Surely if his mother had run into someone from Ireland, someone that knew her father, she\u2019d have talked about it?<\/p>\n

Pat unconsciously wheeled Black Jack around; here was the one and only chance he\u2019d probably ever have to talk to someone who knew his mother as a girl; his grandparents and uncles. Maybe Pat still had family there? His mother had mentioned aunts and cousins back in Bally Lynch. Not for the first time in his life, Pat smiled to think he had Riordan cousins back in Ireland. Family! Wasn\u2019t that what he\u2019d always wanted to have?<\/p>\n

But that thought made his conscience twinge a bit.\u00a0 Well, he did have family, he conceded uncomfortably. He had his father, whom he did love, though they rubbed each other the wrong way sometimes; and his grandfather, whom he loved dearly. And Uncle Hoss and Uncle Joe, too. Even Hop Sing, he grinned to himself, who was more motherly sometimes than his own Ma had been! He sighed. But that wasn\u2019t enough. That was only half of His family.\u00a0 Half of me<\/strong>.<\/em><\/p>\n

His forehead screwed up in indignation. Ain\u2019t I got a right to know about my other family? Why is Dad squelching every chance I got to make a connection to my Irish side?<\/em> Like this morning, at breakfast, the whole argument about helping the Irish.\u00a0 Pat couldn\u2019t help but feel that with Dad shutting down the discussion the way he did \u2013 end of the story! – \u00a0it was like he was saying I’m a Cartwright now, plain and simple, and that was it.\u00a0 But it isn’t <\/strong>it.\u00a0 I’m a Riordan, too!\u00a0 And I’ve been one a helluva lot longer than I been a Cartwright.<\/em><\/p>\n

And in a small, dark and painful part of his soul, Pat wondered, uneasily, Is Dad ashamed of that part of me?<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat\u2018s body made the decision for him before his mind realized it. He found his boots slipped back into the stirrups of his saddle and his hands turning a surprised Jack\u2019s head around, back toward town, Devil take it!<\/em> he grunted, as he trotted back towards the Bucket of Blood. \u00a0If I\u2019m gonna be in trouble, I might as well make it for somethin\u2019 worthwhile!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick glanced nervously around him as he readied himself to slip into the alleyway behind the Bucket of Blood. He knew he couldn\u2019t go in the saloon\u2019s front door, not at fourteen, so he figured he\u2019d try going in from the alleyway entrance.<\/p>\n

He wondered if the secret knock that had gained visitors entrance to the back room at the Witch\u2019s Broth was one the Fenians used across the board? He reckoned he\u2019d give it a shot, as it was likely his best chance at gaining entrance. Drawing in a deep breath, he beat the well-remembered secret tattoo on the door and waited.<\/p>\n

The door was opened by a tall, good-looking young man, no more than around thirty, that Pat never remembered having seen before.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat in blazes -?\u201d the man sputtered, after looking down and seeing the youngster standing there. \u00a0He quickly scanned the rest of the alley, then glared at the youngster. \u201cAnd who the devil might you be?\u201d he demanded, his brogue thick and musical.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick Riordan Cartwright,\u201d the boy replied, his head high. \u201cI want to see Mr. Corrigan, if ya please.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, do ye, now?\u201d said the man, in disdain. \u201cAnd what makes ye think he\u2019s here, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCommon knowledge this is the Fenian meetin\u2019 place,\u201d retorted Pat, throwing caution to the winds and playing his hand hard and fast. Hell, he had nothing to lose!<\/p>\n

Startled, the other man narrowed his eyes, hands on his hips over the barman\u2019s apron he wore. \u201cAnd where\u2019d you learn that? And what\u2019s more, where\u2019d ye pick up the knock?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat was careful not to display his pleasure that he\u2019d been right about the secret code.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom me Fenian grandda, Paddy Riordan, county Armagh, Ireland, through me sainted mother, Siobhan Riordan!\u201d he snapped back, insolently mimicking the brogue perfectly, angering the other man. \u201cNow, are ya gonna let Eamon Corrigan know I\u2019m here, or what?\u00a0 Eamon ain\u2019t gonna be happy you left an old family friend out here in the alleyway coolin\u2019 my heels.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bristling, the young man turned back to the room and bellowed. \u201cEamon!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat stepped a little to the side to peer into the room and recognized through a smokey haze a dozen or more men populating the room; miners, mine owners, businessmen, Irishmen all.<\/p>\n

Corrigan himself came to the door and saw his visitor, and started, shocked. \u201cPatrick! What in all the name o\u2019 the saints are ye doin\u2019 here?\u201d He glared angrily at the young man \u201cAnd what\u2019re ye thinkin\u2019 to be openin\u2019 the door to him, Michael?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe knew the knock,\u201d said Michael, raising a knowing eyebrow at his employer.<\/p>\n

Corrigan\u2019s jaw dropped slightly, then again studied Pat, standing there, his arms crossed complacently over his chest, gazing at the older, taller man. Slowly, Corrigan\u2019s mouth closed and he chuckled, shaking his head, hands on his hips. \u201cAye, and I suppose ye would, bein\u2019 the son o\u2019 Siobhan Riordan. All right, then, lad, come in and speak yer piece.\u201d He waved the boy into through the door.<\/p>\n

Patrick looked around as he entered and felt like he\u2019d been transported back to Hell\u2019s Kitchen. Except for the fact that his mother was nowhere in sight, he could have been at the back room of the Witch\u2019s Broth once again. \u00a0That familiarity made his cocky confidence return, and he turned to Corrigan who had come up beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Corrigan, it was interesting hearin\u2019 ya talk about my family back in Ireland the other night,\u201d he said carefully, choosing his words, \u201cand I wondered if I might be able to just\u2026 I dunno, hang around a bit, I guess, while you\u2019re here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did ye find out about this place, lad?\u201d<\/p>\n

Knowing how seriously the Fenians guarded their secrecy, Patrick kept his mouth shut, merely smiling in return.<\/p>\n

Corrigan threw his head back and roared with laughter. \u201c\u2018Tis truly Paddy Riordan\u2019s grandson ye are! Alright, lad. You do that. See if we can\u2019t reawaken in ye that Riordan Celtic blood, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat grinned, his Irish eyes twinkling in delight.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hoss drew in a deep breath and rubbed his cold hands together, happily nodded to himself that he\u2019d worked up a good thirst and could reward himself with a beer.\u00a0 After all, he\u2019d done the banking, picked up the mail, dropped off a list at the quarry for dynamite they\u2019d be needing up at the timber camp in the next couple of weeks when the lumber operation got started again.\u00a0 Then, he\u2019d dropped off Pa\u2019s favorite boots to be re-soled at Lone Star Leather. \u00a0Nodding, Hoss strode down the wooden planked walkway to his favorite saloon.<\/p>\n

As he walked, he thought about the unpleasant breakfast table conversation.\u00a0 To be honest, everything had been so topsy turvy since he got home from San Franscisco that Hoss wasn\u2019t sure what he thought anymore.\u00a0 That whole mess with Mr. Corrigan the other night, and Adam and Pat goin\u2019 at each other today.. well, Hoss felt gettin\u2019 away from the Ponderosa for a short while sure felt good.\u00a0 Poor Pat\u2026 he felt for the kid and hoped that his brother would soon figure out that getting\u2019 on his high horse wasn\u2019t gonna be any way to get through to his boy.<\/p>\n

The Silver Dollar was quiet as a church this afternoon. A couple of the saloon girls had taken the afternoon off, leaving just two to work the \u2018crowd\u2019, which consisted solely of Tim O\u2019Brien, still in his top hat and dusty morning coat. After striking it rich, Tim had on his own more than supported the monthly rent of the Silver Dollar, and Charlie was grateful for his business. Besides, Tim was a sweet little character, always a happy drunk.<\/p>\n

Hoss sidled over to Tim\u2019s table and gave him a big smile. He and Tim had always gotten along, and they managed to find all kinds of things to talk about despite the fact that Tim spent most of his days underground and Hoss spent his in open air. He ordered a beer from Charlie and carried it over to the table Tim was lounging at.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s it goin\u2019, Tim?\u201d he grinned.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, \u2018tis grand it is, Hoss, me lad! Just grand!\u201d breathed Tim, with a beatific smile on his face as he sipped his whiskey. \u201cI\u2019ve just done me bit for the old country, I have!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah?\u00a0 How\u2019s that?\u201d smiled Hoss, sipping his beer.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve made a blow for ending English tyranny, that\u2019s how!\u201d crowed Tim, toasting himself joyfully. Hoss, confused, glanced back at Charlie, who made a face and nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cYep, that Corrigan feller was in here earlier, and latched onto old Tim for \u2018nigh onto five thousand dollars,\u201d sighed Charlie, as he delivered another bottle to Tim\u2019s table. Hoss wheeled around and stared at the barkeep.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re kidding, ain\u2019tcha Charlie?\u201d gasped Hoss, glancing back at Tim.<\/p>\n

\u201cNope,\u201d confirmed Charlie, nodding at the old miner. \u201cFive thousand dollars. And he\u2019ll probably be back for more.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss frowned and thought … hard. What was Corrigan getting money from fellers like Tim for? The man said he wanted to meet wealthy mine owners. Hoss didn\u2019t recall him saying anything about small-time miners like Tim. And he was negotiating with men like Mackay and Holloway for silver bullion. Tim didn\u2019t have none o\u2019 that stuff!<\/p>\n

Hoss decided it was time to find out a little bit more about what Mr. Eamon Corrigan was doing in Virginia City.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Tim,\u201d he said, with a forced grin. \u201cWhat\u2019d you and Mr. Corrigan talk about, anyhow?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, Hoss, lad,\u201d sighed the old, drunken miner, \u201cwe talked about the old country and how every penny was going into Ireland to help the widows and orphans and to strike a blow fer her freedom!\u201d he muttered, swigging a large gulp from the bottle at his side. \u201cAye, a blow fer freedom.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut … what, exactly, is Mr. Corrigan gonna do with the money you give him,?\u201d asked Hoss gently.<\/p>\n

Tim\u2019s beatific smile suddenly froze. \u201cWhy\u2026 sure, an\u2019 I dunno,\u201d he said slowly, confused, his eyes a little wide. Frowning, Hoss nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cI figgered. Listen, will ya do me a favor?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t give Corrigan no more money until I find out what\u2019s goin on, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut … sure, an\u2019 he said \u2019twas for the mothers and children left behind,\u201d said Tim, sadly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well…I\u2019ll bet them women and children could use some help, that\u2019s true enough,\u201d said Hoss, gently, getting Tim\u2019s attention. \u201cBut will ya promise me you\u2019ll wait on helpin\u2019 \u2018em out if ya ain\u2019t heard nuthin\u2019 from me? Will ya do that for me, Tim?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShore I will,\u201d sighed Tim, shakily pouring himself another drink.<\/p>\n

Sighing, Hoss got to his feet and walked back to the bar. \u201cCharlie, keep an eye on him, will ya? I gotta talk to some people.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure thing, Hoss,\u201d said Charlie, his eyes narrowed, nodding emphatically. \u201cYou bet I will.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Black Jack galloped like the wind, flying across the fields between Virginia City and the ranch house, with Patrick nearly flat on his back racing against time.<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon, Jack!\u201d he encouraged the lathering horse, worriedly praying that everyone would be so involved with the springtime chores around the ranch to notice he was late getting home. He tried to figure out what his story would be if he got caught; he supposed he could say he was kept after school. He wondered how far Uncle Joe had managed to romance Miss Masterson. Grimacing, he wondered if something like that would work\u2026 wouldn\u2019t she tell him?<\/p>\n

Sighing, he bent closer to Jack\u2019s black mane and urged the horse on. \u201cWe\u2019re almost there, fella,\u201d he pressed, slowing him down as they approached the house.\u00a0 He glanced around the deserted yard and quietly led a steaming Jack into the barn. He breathed a sigh of relief to see all the stalls empty; everyone was still out.<\/p>\n

Pat set his mind to his work like a demon, giving Jack a vigorous rubdown, and tossing a blanket over him to cool him after the run. If he had time, he\u2019d make sure to walk him for fifteen minutes or so around the corral, but he first had to be sure his chores were finished so he wasn\u2019t found out. This pricked at his conscience a bit, as he\u2019d been taught ever since he got there that a hand took care of his horse first, and himself later. But he was able to push it out of the immediate front of his mind and promised himself he\u2019d figure out another way to handle this.<\/p>\n

While mucking out the stalls faster than he\u2019d ever done before – and doing a considerably less than able job of it – Pat\u2019s mind was working overtime. He\u2019d have to be very careful about when he took a chance as he did today or Jack\u2019d drop on his traces! He liked excitement as much as the next fella, but the idea of daily living in fear of getting home in time to avoid getting caught\u2026 well, it just wasn\u2019t comfortable to think about.<\/p>\n

But a worse contemplation was letting the chance of learning more about his mother and her family \u2013 his family! \u2013 get away from him.\u00a0 Corrigan wouldn\u2019t be here much longer.\u00a0 He was sure he could figure out how to hold out a few more days!<\/p>\n

Pat calculated the amount of time it would take for his father, uncles and grandfather to do their chores and various jobs and figured that they\u2019d be home just in time for supper each evening, in all likelihood. \u00a0This was an awful busy time on the ranch.<\/p>\n

Dad and Uncle Joe were neck deep with most of the hands gathering up cattle that had been grazing over the winter in the farther pastures.\u00a0 And Pat had learned that often other ranchers\u2019 head had mixed in with Ponderosa beef, so there was the need to sort everybody out.\u00a0 They were also dealing with checking fencing on the lower pastures closer to the main ranch where the herd would be moved as more were tracked down.\u00a0 Between checking fences and making sure the was sufficient feed in place for the animals and making sure a meadow wasn\u2019t overgrazed, they had their hands full.<\/p>\n

Uncle Hoss was handling getting pastures and pens ready for spring calving as well as doctoring the animals.\u00a0 That was in addition to any other doctoring or farrier work that was needed for the horses.<\/p>\n

And Granddad, while often in his office writing up lists and contracts and what all, this week Pat knew he\u2019d be making sure supplies were laid in for the line shacks, and hiring for the spring round up.<\/p>\n

If Pat was lucky, none of them would drag in wearily until just about supper time. But that still didn\u2019t solve the problem of having to be in two places at once or getting his chores completed adequately and on time. In order to keep Hop Sing from getting wise \u2013 I swear, sometimes it seems he\u2019s got eyes in the back of his head!<\/em> –\u00a0 Pat would have to have an ally, someone who could help him.\u00a0 But who? He glanced over the barn, noting the things that hadn\u2019t been done, and sighed. It\u2019d have to do, there just wasn\u2019t time for any better.<\/p>\n

He trotted out to the woodpile and heaved the ax, grateful he\u2019d honed it, so he didn\u2019t lose any further time. He got right to work, tossing his jacket over by the kitchen door. As the ax rose and fell in a rapid tempo, Patrick focused hard on figuring out who that ally could be. Suddenly he stopped mid-swing, his jaw dropping and eyes wide, and his face split in a grin. Nodding to himself, he bent to the task of splitting wood while cooking up his own brand of Irish blarney.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Dave!\u201d<\/p>\n

Over at the corral the youngest of the ranch hands was gloomily gathering up the gear from an afternoon of exercising the cattle ponies. \u00a0Dave Wilkins was just over sixteen himself, and both impressionable and a little simple.\u00a0 He and Pat had struck up a fine friendship over the last six months. It was Dave\u2019s job at the moment to work with the ponies while the other hands were up at the branding site, readying things for tomorrow\u2019s start of branding the new calves. Frankly, it galled him to have to stay here and be left out.<\/p>\n

He glanced up to see Pat Cartwright jogging over to him, his hair plastered with sweat, his shirt damp.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, what happened to you?\u201d he grinned, nodding at his friend.<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d Pat glanced down at himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cYa look like Black Jack rode you<\/em> home from that school o\u2019 yourn,\u201d Dave cackled at his own joke.<\/p>\n

Pat sighed and rolled his eyes but managed to make a wan smile.\u00a0 \u201cOh. Just the usual\u2026 tryin\u2019 to get four hours of work done in two. You know how my Dad is about doin\u2019 my share of the responsibilities.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave smiled in understanding.\u00a0 Of all the Cartwrights, Mr. Adam scared him the most.\u00a0 Ol Mr. Ben, he might yell more, but he wasn\u2019t as scary as when Mr. Adam got all quiet-like.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was just gettin\u2019 the woodpile down some, that\u2019s all,\u201d continued Pat, leaning over to help Dave gather up the gear. \u201cListen, Dave, I need ta talk ta you. Got a minute?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure. Help me lug this stuff into the barn and we can talk,\u201d nodded Dave, as he hauled his saddle over his shoulder and gestured toward the spare halters. Pat scooped up the pile of leathers and followed Dave in, planning his thoughts carefully.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d asked Dave as he deposited the saddle on a wooden sawhorse near the back of the barn.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I need a favor, and it\u2019s a big one,\u201d admitted Pat, as he walked to the tack room and carefully hanging up the tack in its proper place. He noted Dave following him and handed him one of the bridles.<\/p>\n

\u201cShoot,\u201d nodded Dave, reaching up to hang the leather in his hand.<\/p>\n

Pat drew in a deep breath and prayed he still had his Irishman\u2019s tongue and capacity for persuasion\u2026<\/p>\n

As they worked, Pat spun his yarn, telling him \u2018in confidence\u2019 about the opportunity to learn more about his Irish grandfather, and his mother, playing on Dave\u2019s sympathies.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, that sounds swell, Pat, bein\u2019 able to talk to someone who knew your Ma when she was young!\u201d Dave smiled broadly, reaching down for the bits and walking to the work table to set them down for cleaning.<\/p>\n

Pat hesitated, but only for a moment.\u00a0 He knew Dave often offered Patrick his condolences after a talking-to from his father, sympathetically commiserating or letting Pat blow off steam grumbling about a punishment \u2013 even one that was well-deserved. Dave was a kind, gentle fellow, not the quickest horse on the track, so to speak, but with the sweetest temperament.\u00a0 He honestly like to help people. Remembering those moments of sympathy, Patrick played on them, sadly sighing and saying his father would never understand.<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean, I know it\u2019s my job to get my chores done, I really do, but this is real important to me,\u201d Pat sighed.\u00a0 \u201cBut there\u2019s no way.\u00a0 My dad won\u2019t never let me be late for chores.\u00a0 I know there there\u2019s a lot going on right now with spring\u2019n\u2019all, but I mean\u2026 I really, really would like to get to know this Corrigan fella better.\u00a0 He was my grandfather\u2019s best friend!\u00a0 I might\u2026 well, I might learn more about my ma, and certainly more about who I am, my Irish family.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat got to his feet, lifting a couple of the harnesses and started to hang them on the hooks on the tack room wall. \u00a0Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick peeked back behind himself.\u00a0 He was pleased to note the sad, troubled expression on Dave\u2019s face as he stared at the barn floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean, honest and true Dave,\u201d he sighed, dramatically. \u201cHow would you<\/em> feel if you had a chance like this? And you got told \u2018no\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave winced, still staring at the floor.\u00a0 What if it was<\/strong> me, <\/em>the youngster thought, thinking about his widowed mother and two little sisters.\u00a0 What if it was someone who usedta know my Pa?\u00a0 His<\/em> sensitive soul made him shake his head and reach up a hand to rub the back of his neck.<\/p>\n

Pat barely managed to keep a smug smile from surfacing. \u00a0Got \u2018im!<\/em><\/p>\n

Oh, Pat was proud of himself! He played it with just the right level of pathos, just the right amount of sad acceptance that his father was a cruel, mean sonofabitch who wouldn\u2019t allow his son to explore his Irish roots. And while his conscience pricked at him a little, it didn\u2019t bother him enough to deter him.<\/p>\n

Dave fell for it hook, line and sinker. Sympathy turned to outrage, and the young man studied the sad, forlorn face of the boy in front of him.\u00a0 \u201cWell\u2026\u201d he hesitated a moment, worried.\u00a0 \u201cI could\u2026 mebbe I could help some.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat stopped in his tracks, feigning shocked surprise, and turned. \u201cHelp?\u00a0 How?\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave was nodding, thinking. \u201cWell, I could mebbe git the stalls mucked out for ya. That\u2019d buy ya a little time, wouldn\u2019t it? And I could start on the woodpile.\u201d<\/p>\n

And it was done. As Pat assisted Dave in finishing up getting everything ship shape for the foreman to inspect they talked through what needed to be accomplished. \u201cNow, the only problem is you gotta do it so\u2019s my old man don\u2019t catch on, or any o\u2019 the rest o\u2019 the family,\u201d said Pat earnestly. \u201cAfter all, I\u2019m the one supposed to be doin\u2019 the work. But don\u2019t worry, even if he does find out, it\u2019ll be me he\u2019s mad at, ot you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, Dave, I don\u2019 wantcha ta think I\u2019m askin ya do this for nothin,\u201d Pat said earnestly, chinking in the final little holes of his plan.\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cI\u2019ll be glad to pay ya for helpin\u2019 me out. It wouldn\u2019t be fair otherwise. I\u2019ll pay ya a quarter-day\u2019s wages, each and every day, for the two hours of work. And it wouldn\u2019t be for long\u2026 just till the end of the week, probably. Corrigan\u2019s gonna be leavin\u2019 soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, that ain\u2019t necessary.\u201d Dave shrugged uneasily. \u201cA man don\u2019t \u00a0take money for helpin\u2019 a friend when they need it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat winced. \u201cWell, I know, but you\u2019re already having to get your own work done, and I know you give a lot of your wages to your Ma.\u00a0 Please, it wouldn\u2019t be right if ya didn\u2019t take it. I ain\u2019t gonna take advantage of ya.\u201d That was almost hard to say without a little flush of shame. \u2018not take advantage\u2019\u2026 ha!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026.\u201d Dave frowned, trying to think this through.<\/p>\n

Dave was a willing sort and pleasant, not overly endowed with brains; it never occurred to him to ask Patrick what he was supposed to say if, somewhere along the line, somebody noticed that he was doing Pat\u2019s chores. Neither did Dave think to ask how his boss, the Ponderosa\u2019 longtime foreman, Jake, would feel about this arrangement. His friend Pat Cartwright was asking him if he would help, and offered to pay him, besides.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure\u2026 why not?\u201d he grinned finally, sticking out his hand. Relieved, Pat stuck his own out and the two boys shook hands, smiling; Dave, because he was able to help out a friend, and Pat because he figured he had at least three or four days of freedom to visit with Corrigan, free from retribution.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Corrigan blew out most of the lamps and walked thoughtfully toward a large, overstuffed chair in the darkened backroom at the Bucket of Blood. He was alone now, but for Michael, polishing glasses behind the small bar and finishing up the tidying. It had been a good meeting, with many of the movers and shakers of the Irish community in Virginia City honing the logistics of transporting bullion, collecting monies, and sending it back to Ireland.<\/p>\n

And young Patrick Cartwright! Now there\u2019s a lad<\/em>, he thought with a small smile. Despite his surprise at the youngster showing up at the semi-clandestine meeting, Corrigan was glad he\u2019d welcomed him in. When Pat had asked him politely if he could hang around, Corrigan readily agreed, seeing the potential for financial opportunity in having the youngest of the wealthy Nevada Cartwrights as an ally.<\/p>\n

The personal pleasure in spending time with Paddy Riordan\u2019s grandson only added sweetness to the pot, in Eamon\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n

Michael smiled when Corrigan wearily sank into the leather chair and reached below the bar for the aged Napoleon. \u201cA nightcap, Eamon?\u201d he asked softly, pouring the cognac, already knowing the answer.<\/p>\n

Without looking up, Eamon reached up an arm, gratified when the glass was put into his hand. \u201cThank ye, Michael.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t mention it,\u201d grinned the younger man. As he walked back to the bar, he frowned, thinking. \u201cTell me, Eamon. What\u2019re yer plans for the lad, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan sipped his cognac and leaned his head back against chair, tiredly closing his eyes. \u201cAnd why would ye be thinkin\u2019 there\u2019re any plans in me head for him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause,\u201d replied Michael dryly, \u201cin the nine years I\u2019ve been tagging behind ye, ye\u2019ve never done a bloody thing without a plan.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan chuckled and opened his eyes again, swirling the warm, amber liquid in his glass. \u201cNine years\u2026 is it that long, lad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye. And don\u2019t be changin\u2019 the subject,\u201d grinned Michael, pouring himself a snifter of the brandy and sitting down opposite his employer. \u201cWhat\u2019re yer plans for young Cartwright, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo be sure, I\u2019ve no specific plans of yet,\u201d he sighed, tossing back the cognac. \u201cHe interests me, Michael. A grandson of Paddy Riordan\u2026\u2019tis hard to believe, lad. Paddy and I knew each other since we were wee bairns. To be seein\u2019 his grandson, here in this Godforsaken land! And to also be the grandson of a wealthy cattle and timber baron, no less.\u201d Corrigan sighed, with a small smile on his face.<\/p>\n

Michael sipped his brandy and glanced at the older man. \u201cPlannin\u2019 on some fleecin\u2019, are ye?\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan cocked an eyebrow and returned the gaze. \u201cI\u2019m thinkin\u2019 on it, lad, I\u2019m thinkin\u2019 on it,\u201d he conceded quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, be makin\u2019 sure ye aren\u2019t plannin\u2019 more than that,\u201d observed Michael seriously.<\/p>\n

At these words, the soft, thoughtful smile on Eamon\u2019s face hardened suddenly.\u00a0 He turned a gimlet eye on the younger man across from him.\u00a0 \u201cAnd just what would ye be meanin\u2019 by that?\u201d demanded Eamon, putting down his glass and glaring at the younger man.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, save yer breath, Eamon. Yer reaction is tellin\u2019 me more than I want to know,\u201d declared Michael, dryly, as he got to his feet. Holding his palm up to forestall Eamon\u2019s hot, angry words. \u201cI can see it in yer eyes, man. Don\u2019t be tryin\u2019 to recapture Sean in that lad, because ye won\u2019t find him there. All ye\u2019ll find is pain and grief.\u00a0 And it\u2019s believin\u2019, I am, ye\u2019ve seen enough of that in yer life.\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael finished his drink, set the glass firmly on the table and after a long, hard look at his employer and mentor, left the room. Corrigan gazed after him for a long moment, and sighed, closing his eyes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[1]<\/a> Strickland, Agnes, Lives of the Queens of England, 1846<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER NINE<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Elizabeth Masterson carefully looked over the class as they worked on their various assignments and sighed in relief. Apparently, the practical joker who\u2019d plagued the classroom for the past several days had decided to take a rest. Every time she turned around for the past week, some nonsense or other was taking place, and she hadn\u2019t been able yet to determine exactly who the culprit, or culprits, were, though she had an idea.<\/p>\n

Until young Pat Cartwright and Wendy Carter had arrived, practical jokes had played a very minor role in her discipline problems. Oh, there had been the occasional frog put into a girl\u2019s desk, or a girl\u2019s pigtail dipped in an inkwell, to be sure. These were children, after all. But the level of pranking that had gone on this week was both formidable and exhausting for Elizabeth.<\/p>\n

As she studied Patrick, she saw him concentrating on his history assignment, writing an essay on the Battle of Gettysburg. Wendy was helping one of the younger girls by quizzing her in her spelling words. Both, behaving as good as gold. That should have warned her right away.<\/p>\n

Joshua Bennett, her one remaining little first grader, raised his hand. \u201cMiss Masterson?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Joshua?<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I get a drink of water?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I, Joshua.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u2019m,\u201d the little boy sighed. \u201cMay<\/em> I get a drink of water?\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled. \u201cYes, Josh, you may.\u201d<\/p>\n

She put her mind back to marking essays from the middle grades on the subject of the Lewis and Clark expedition and didn\u2019t notice the strange look Josh wore as he sipped water from the dipper.<\/p>\n

Frowning, the little boy sniffed at the dipper, then peered into the bucket by the door, perplexed.\u00a0 Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and drank down the dipperful. His mother had served fried ham for breakfast, and he was awful thirsty.<\/p>\n

Patrick eyed the little fellow as he walked back to his desk and fought to keep the edges of his mouth from turning up. Josh leaned a little to the side, and with a puzzled expression whispered something to Johnny Fitzgerald, a slightly older and wiser boy; Johnny looked at the younger boy, glanced back at the bucket, eyes narrowed. He waited a decent interval, then raised his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cMa\u2019am, may I please get a drink of water?\u201d<\/p>\n

Liz nodded, still rapt in her reading, and Johnny made his way to the water bucket. One good swig, and Johnny knew. He managed to keep the grin to himself, as he had another swallow, then walked back to his desk. Unobtrusively, Johnny scribbled a note on foolscap, and quietly passed it back to Drew Norbert, who read the note, grinned, and passed it on to the next boy.<\/p>\n

Being sure to keep the note\u2019s contents restricted to the older boys in the room, the word spread like wildfire. Carefully, quietly, thinking they weren\u2019t drawing attention to themselves, every older boy in the classroom visited the water bucket over and over again. A couple even innocently suggested that it was awfully warm in the room… maybe Miss Masterson could cut back off on the wood to the stove, since the heat in here was makin\u2019 them awful thirsty. Pat chuckled to himself, delighted in the reaction, and put his attention back to his assignment.<\/p>\n

Throughout the course of the morning, Josh revisited the water bucket a good six or seven times, and while the older, larger, sturdier boys weren\u2019t showing much more than a bad case of the giggles, Joshua was beginning to look a little the worse for wear. His steps were unsure, his head ached and he was awful sleepy, and he began to feel a bit sick to his stomach.<\/p>\n

\u201cBoys! Settle down!\u201d Liz scolded. They were laughing and giggling hilariously at some inside joke and seemed unable to stop. \u201cGentlemen, would you all like to spend an extra hour after school today?\u201d<\/p>\n

Now, there was a sobering thought. With a major effort, mostly geared toward not looking at each other, the boys did their best to settle down, but the occasional guffaw still punctuated the silence of the room.<\/p>\n

Finally finished with her grading after nearly an hour and a half of only paying half an ear and eye to her classroom, Liz glanced out over the room and noted there was something odd going on. All the older boys had silly, giggly looks on their faces, and poor little Josh sat at his desk in misery, barely able to hold up his head. Concerned, she rose to her feet and walked over to him, bending down at his side.<\/p>\n

\u201cJosh, dear?\u201d she said gently, stroking his hair. \u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

He picked up his head, his eyes bleary and his face a little green. \u201cNo, Teacher, I feel awful,\u201d he moaned, belching. Liz caught the unmistakable reek of whiskey and reared back in shock.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoshua!\u201d she said, aghast, leaning forward and sniffing deliberately. There was no mistake; whiskey! \u201cJosh, dear, you\u2019re not feeling very well, are you?\u201d she asked softly. The little boy\u2019s lower lip trembled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI feel funny,\u201d he muttered, his head pounding like the hammer at the blacksmith\u2019s. Through all this, Mary Logan tried, gesticulating wildly, to get Liz\u2019s attention.<\/p>\n

Liz\u2019s eye finally caught the motion and she turned, still supporting the little boy at her side. \u201cWhat is it Mary?\u201d Liz asked, irritably, as she stroked the Josh\u2019s forehead.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,<\/em> ma\u2019am, may I get a drink of water?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor goodness sake!\u201d said Liz, crossly, as she eased Josh to his feet, \u201cyou children must have all had salt pork for breakfast! Oh, go ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mary, a little put out at being scolded when she<\/em> hadn\u2019t done anything, wore a hurt expression as she flounced to the water bucket, and every boy\u2019s eye followed her. She scooped out the very little water left, and being truly thirsty, took a big swallow… and promptly spat it out loudly.<\/p>\n

Liz whirled to look at the girl, who was now sputtering, red-faced and indignant. \u201cWhat on earth is the matter?\u201d demanded Liz, still hugging Josh to her as he wove a little.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomebody…cough!<\/em>… somebody put whiskey in here!\u201d Mary howled. The boys couldn\u2019t help it; they burst out laughing.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth glared at them, deposited little Josh back in his seat, then hurried up the aisle and took the dipper from Mary\u2019s hand.\u00a0 She sniffed, then sipped, wrinkling her nose.<\/p>\n

Slowly she turned back to the classroom and realized she had a roomful of slightly inebriated young boys… and one darned-near drunk little one. And dawn broke.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right! This practical joking has gone far enough,\u201d she said icily, dumping the dipper back into the bucket.\u00a0 She carried it with her to the front of the room. \u201cMary, I want you to please help Joshua get dressed and walk him home. Tell Mrs. Bennett I will be by at lunchtime to talk with her and to see how he is.\u201d<\/p>\n

The absolute fury on her face sobered all the boys pretty quick, despite the effects of roughly equivalent of a half shot of whiskey. Boys went from sniggering, exchanging knowing looks and shouldering each other to \u2013 one by one \u2013 quickly sobering uneasily and growing alarmed.\u00a0 \u00a0Elizabeth scanned the room and noticed that the girls were looking smugly at the boys, seeing a chance for one of them to be in trouble. Only one of the girls looked uncomfortable in the slightest.<\/p>\n

Sure enough, Wendy Carter. Immediately, Liz swung her eyes around to the other side of the room and nailed her chocolate brown eyes on Patrick Cartwright, who squirmed uncomfortably under her furious gaze.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am going to ask, and give the opportunity, for the person, or persons<\/em>,\u201d she ground out, looking back at Wendy, who blushed furiously, \u201cwho did this to show some integrity and come forward before I have to find out for myself.\u201d<\/p>\n

No one in the room moved an inch.<\/p>\n

Without a word, Liz took the bull by the horns and stalked \u00a0to Wendy\u2019s desk. \u201cWell, Wendy? Do you have anything to say?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her lip trembling, she looked up at Liz, mutely, her green eyes very frightened. This hadn\u2019t turned out anything like the way she and Pat had expected…<\/p>\n

Wendy\u2019s terrified expression told Liz everything she wanted to know. Setting her lips and crossing her arms across her chest, Liz towered over her. \u201cWendy Carter, did you have something to do with this?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gulping, unable to speak, Wendy merely nodded, squirming uncomfortably. Without a word, Liz grasped the girl\u2019s arm and hauled her to her feet, marching her to the front of the room. Wendy\u2019s face showed her fear; she thought for sure she was going to be caned. So did Patrick, and he shot to his feet, his sense of justice being tweaked hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait, Miss Masterson,\u201d he called out, firmly. \u201cI did it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Every eye in the room swung toward him. The boys thought he\u2019d lost his mind: Miss Masterson ain\u2019t even said nothin\u2019 to him! <\/em>The girls looked at each other, not sure whether to turn their noses up at him for his stupidity, or beam at him for his chivalry!<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I don\u2019t doubt you were involved,\u201d retorted his teacher sternly. She continued past her desk still with Wendy in tow, depositing her in the corner. \u201cNow you stand there, where you can\u2019t cause any more trouble, young lady!\u201d<\/p>\n

Miss Masterson turned and came sailing down the aisle toward Patrick like a battleship with war flags flying, and he swallowed hard as she approached, forcing himself not to shrink back.<\/p>\n

\u201cOpen your desk,\u201d she ordered sternly. Blushing, Patrick swallowed hard and lifted the lid of the two-seater he shared with Mike, who sat there staring at him in shock. Miss Masterson reached in and pulled out a whiskey bottle, holding it in distaste between her thumb and forefinger. She eyed the boy balefully, glanced at the bottle, then glared at him again. With her free hand she latched painfully onto his ear and hauled him up as well, marching him up the aisle. \u00a0Patrick sucked in air between his teeth to keep from yelping as he was hauled all the way up to the front and into the opposite corner from Wendy, his nose nearly touching the wall. \u00a0His trip to the front of the room was punctuated with titters from the girls, though the boys didn\u2019t utter a sound.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you two, we\u2019ll just see how funny your parents think this little escapade of yours is!\u201d she said ominously. \u201cMicah, take that bucket out to the stream, rinse it very well and refill it with fresh water, please.\u201d<\/p>\n

In abject humiliation, Patrick rubbed his sore, reddened ear, and closed his eyes. Suddenly, their hilarious practical joke didn\u2019t seem so funny anymore.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cAdam?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben came into the house, a frown on his face as he studied an envelope. He glanced around the great room and saw no one, even though Adam was supposed to have been working at his desk putting together a couple of contracts for their timber interests. \u201cAdam!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUp here, Pa!\u201d Adam rounded the corner of the hallway and down the stairs with a large sheaf of papers in his hand. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m not sure,\u201d said his father, honestly. \u201cI had to stop by the school to estimate the measurements for the new roof. Remember, you and I were supposed to have made those estimates for Monday night\u2019s school board meeting?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam closed his eyes and nodded. He\u2019d completely forgotten with everything going on.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, anyway, I was there and bumped into Miss Masterson this morning when she let the children out for recess. And she asked me to give this to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frowning, Adam walked over to the desk and set his papers down, taking the envelope from his father, slitting it open.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you see Pat?\u201d he asked casually as he removed the letter.<\/p>\n

Ben hesitated for a moment, then drew in a breath to answer, but not fast enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cWasn\u2019t he there?\u201d demanded Adam, dropping his hands and looking at his father in disbelief.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes, he was there …\u201d replied Ben, looking away.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben, uneasy, looked back at Adam and shrugged. \u201cNow, Adam,\u201d he muttered gruffly, starting to turn away, \u201c just read your letter and – \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, where was he?\u201d demanded Adam, deliberately trying to be careful of his tone.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t talk to him, Adam. He was… well, Miss Masterson had him standing in the corner,\u201d sighed Ben, turning away. Adam shook his head, then turned his eyes down on the letter.<\/p>\n

Ben watched his oldest son\u2019s eyes widen, then a grim smile crease his face, \u00a0then his head begin to nod.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo that<\/em> was it,\u201d Adam muttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d asked Ben, concerned.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, nothing much, Pa,\u201d Adam replied tightly, as he forcefully folded the note and rammed it back into the envelope. Shaking his head, he looked down at the floor, then back up at his father, eyes burning. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019ve just discovered why my son has been walking around here like an earthed angel, lately. I have to go into the school this afternoon and discuss the fact that he\u2019s turned into the practical joker of the Nevada Territory!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, is that all,\u201d sighed Ben, in relief. That relief was short-lived however, when he saw the glare in Adam\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

School was out. It wasn\u2019t too late, despite the unpleasant scolding Patrick and Wendy had from Miss Masterson after the bell had rung. She had made it clear that their practical joking days were finished; the only reason she hadn\u2019t punished them herself was that the president of the School Board had been called in by little Josh\u2019s very angry mother and was taking charge. Their parents had been notified and would be meeting with her later that afternoon to discuss their punishment. It was a very penitent and worried pair of youngsters that silently left the school that afternoon, each heading in different directions towards home.<\/p>\n

Pat uneasily rubbed his knotted stomach as he helplessly gazed out toward the corral, where Jack was patiently waiting.\u00a0 The boy had found out long ago that despite the teachings of Catholic doctrine, the conscience is not in your heart or mind. At least his<\/em> wasn\u2019t. Pat\u2019s conscience had always been in his stomach; whenever he had done something wrong or was feeling guilty, he was pale and sweating, suffered with an upset stomach.<\/p>\n

He saddled Black Jack, loaded his school things into his saddlebags, but hesitated, having no desire whatever to go home.\u00a0 How in the world could he ever explain this to his family?!<\/p>\n

He walked through town, trying to decide whether to be good this afternoon and go immediately home instead of down to the Bucket of Blood\u2019s back room.<\/p>\n

Now, as Patrick stood outside in the alley behind the saloon Friday afternoon, the boy thought back on the misery of this day and decided he had nothing left to lose. By now, his father was meeting with Miss Masterson about the jokes he and Wendy had played. And it was only a matter of time before Adam learned that Pat had disobeyed him and broken his restriction. Pat was going to be in trouble anyway; he might as well give in to temptation now and take his punishment for it later. Stubbornly setting his jaw, Pat felt a certain sense of pride in his decision. It was as though in his own small way, this<\/em> Irishman was striking his own blow against English tyranny. And he entered the back room of the Bucket of Blood Saloon, his stubborn head high.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cThe coffers are fillin\u2019, lads, and it\u2019ll be a good amount of money I can bring home to Ireland, believe me,\u201d Corrigan was saying earnestly, his gestures inclusive, his tone both collaborative and intimate.\u00a0 He caught the eye of every man present, making them feel part of it, as though they, too, were making the cause possible, each and every one of them. \u201cIt\u2019s these pennies and coins and greenbacks that will help to finance Ireland\u2019s final battle with the English tyrants and gain us our freedom!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat sat on the periphery of the group, a pint of forbidden ale in his hand. He\u2019d heard the line before, but somehow the fire that Corrigan infused into the message was compelling. Not since he\u2019d heard his mother speak to a group of Fenians at the age of about ten had he ever felt so connected to his Irish heritage. He could remember the arguments he\u2019d had with his mother about her involvement in the Fenian movement: he\u2019d remind her they now lived in America. She\u2019d retort that it hadn\u2019t been her choice, and that she would fight the oppression of the British over her homeland until the day she died. Pat had sighed, thinking about it; her words had been sadly prophetic, since she had died as a direct result of another Fenian uprising, only this one on American soil.<\/p>\n

For three days, Patrick had been drinking in the atmosphere of the Fenian backroom, made to feel a part of all the excitement and planning. Corrigan had befriended him in a big way, even though Michael Nolan, the henchman-cum-confidant Corrigan had trailing with him, was still eyeing him suspiciously.<\/p>\n

Corrigan told him tales of his grandfather, stories of them cutting up together as boys, stories of his grandmother, Maggie, and of his uncles\u2026 and his mother. How everyone in the village had loved Siobhan.<\/p>\n

Hearing these stories made him feel good, so good that he was able to thrust from his mind the fact that if his father ever found out he\u2019d been here every day after school instead of at home as he was ordered to be, there\u2019d be hell to pay. Each evening, Patrick had done his homework, been obedient, checking with Dave before he went into the house to be sure he knew exactly what had and hadn\u2019t been done in reference to the chores. He\u2019d also paid Dave daily, to make sure the other boy saw the immediate recompense of helping him out. It had nearly drained him of his allowance, but Pat felt it was worth it.<\/p>\n

If Pat\u2019s conscience bothered him a bit, he managed to push it to the back of his mind as he reveled in being made to feel very much a part of the Fenian group. More and more, he questioned his own allegiances: to his mother\u2019s homeland versus those \u00a0to his father and his father\u2019s family, and to this new home he\u2019d built for himself in the Western wilderness.<\/p>\n

Maybe I been kiddin\u2019 myself all along,<\/em> he thought morosely as he sipped his beer and watched the Irishmen of Virginia City shoot dice, play cards, and talk insurrection.\u00a0 Maybe I\u2019ll never fit in here. And after all, ain\u2019t I got as much right to my Irish blood as the Cartwright side, like Mr. Corrigan keeps saying? Maybe it\u2019s a sin to forget I got insurrectionist blood flowing through me and it\u2019s just as strong at the hard-headed Orange brand I got from my old man?<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat didn\u2019t realize that questioning himself this way was exactly what Corrigan wanted him to do. Eamon Corrigan had plans for this boy, big plans. As intelligent and street-savvy as Patrick was, he was no match yet for the older, more experienced Irish con artist.<\/p>\n

Corrigan cooked up his con with the skill of a master chef, garnishing conversation with comments about Orangemen who had professed to understand and care about the Irish cause, only to turn tail when push came to shove; salting his anecdotes with tales of Americans who paid lip service to the plight of the Irish Catholic, but who, when the chips were down, would ally themselves with the economic realities of maintaining good, healthy ties with the Crown.<\/p>\n

Corrigan told tales of marriages between Orange and Fenian that had gone sour, or ended in bloodshed, never naming names, or likening it to the relationship of Adam and Siobhan, but definitely making thoughts stir in the youngster\u2019s mind. Corrigan watched himself and the boy carefully, cautious not to overdo it. But he didn\u2019t have much time. He\u2019d need to leave the following week. And for what he had in mind, he had to convert Patrick to his side very quickly.<\/p>\n

The unexpected side effect of this endeavor, though, was that Corrigan found the boy\u2019s company pleasant. Pleasant, and emotionally moving. Despite Michael\u2019s warnings, each day Eamon felt as though in some way, the companionship he\u2019d lost when Sean died was being returned to him, and he liked that feeling. He\u2019d sorely missed it.<\/p>\n

In order to complete Patrick\u2019s conversion, Corrigan decided to make Pat as much a part of the Fenian group here as he could. The boy was included in the drinking (to a small degree); in the poker games (and his prowess startled and pleased Corrigan\u2026now there<\/em> was a talent he could use in his entourage!); and in the insurrectionist discussions. Eamon knew how Patrick had been raised, and how Siobhan had died. It had taken a bit of thinking back to his connections in Hell\u2019s Kitchen, but he finally recalled his visit earlier that year to the back room of \u00a0an Irish bar in the Tenderloin and the sad discussion of the horribly mangled attempt at protest the riot of July 12, 1871, had been. So many dead, apparently including Siobhan Riordan.<\/p>\n

And so, Eamon shamelessly used it in a roundabout way, discussing quietly the horrible event last summer that had left 100 men, women and children dead on the streets of Hell\u2019s Kitchen, murdered in their tracks by the filthy Orangemen and their protectors. He noted Pat\u2019s pallor, and his silence, and tread carefully. But he could see that he\u2019d struck a chord. He hoped that chord would raise the song of patriotism in the boy\u2019s heart and make him want to join him in the fight for his homeland\u2019s freedom.<\/p>\n

To lighten the mood a bit, Eamon started a round of singing to go along with the ale, and Patrick found himself caught up in the Irish songs of insurrection of his childhood, until long past the time when he should have been on his way home\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Mr. Cartwright, Mrs. Carter, I\u2019m afraid their list of crimes is quite extensive,\u201d sighed Liz sadly. \u201cLet\u2019s see … they started small; there was tying a rope around the outhouse door with a younger child inside for about an hour; the poor child nearly froze out there. Then there was soaking all the school\u2019s chalk in water and hiding all the erasers. Then they decided to escalate a bit: there was a snake put into the hat of one of the girls, which of course wasn\u2019t noticed until the thing was on her head and tied securely. There was a hornet\u2019s nest placed in the cloakroom … The school spent several hours outside Wednesday, while it was cleared of smoke caused by them stuffing the stove pipe with cloth. Then the eyebrows of one of the older boys got singed when he tried to help me by lighting the stoves in the morning; Patrick had soaked the top piece of firewood in alcohol. And speaking of alcohol, there was their piece de resistance, today\u2019s little prank.\u201d<\/p>\n

Throughout the litany of crimes, Adam had begun to blush and had to force himself to sit up straight in the student desk, when all he really wanted to do was sink into the floor in embarrassment. Across the aisle, Veronica Carter was staring straight ahead, two very bright pink spots glowing in her cheeks.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid we can no longer simply view this as just a childish prank; they laced the school\u2019s water supply with whiskey, giving every boy in the school a little dose of alcohol and made poor little Josh Bennett absolutely tipsy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam winced, and closed his eyes, then his mouth flattened into a firm, angry line. I\u2019m going to kill him\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThey are, without a doubt, the two finest students in the school,\u201d said Liz seriously, getting up from her desk and walking over to the uncomfortable parents, her arms crossed. \u201cThat\u2019s what makes this even more difficult. Wendy\u2019s work has been stellar ever since she arrived. Patrick had been having a little harder time,\u201d she said gently glancing at Adam, who was resolutely studying the top of the desk he was sitting at, \u201cbut this week he\u2019s shown a \u2026 well, an absolutely unbelievable improvement. It\u2019s his own work, it isn\u2019t that he\u2019s been cheating. It\u2019s simply that he\u2019s finally working to his potential. At many different things, apparently,\u201d she sighed, leaning against the first desk in the row.<\/p>\n

Adam drew in a deep breath and uncomfortably shifted. \u201cHow do you want to deal with this, Miss Masterson?\u201d he asked quietly, trying to tamp down his embarrassment.<\/p>\n

Helplessly, Liz shrugged her shoulders. \u201cThey will have to be punished. Simple pranks are one thing, but Joshua was quite sick, and his mother is furious,\u201d sighed Liz. She looked down at her desk, snatching a quick, flustered glance at Adam as she finished her thought. \u201cI had hoped to be able to handle this myself, but Mrs. Bennett has already gone to Mr. MacDonald, the president of the School Board, and he\u2019s decided they both will receive a caning, in front of the entire school. He\u2019s asked that you both be present with the children first thing Monday morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Carter winced slightly but nodded and said nothing. Adam nodded, too, flushing at the thought of John MacDonald being involved. John might the president of the Board, but Adam was also a member; to have his own son be involved in such serious misbehavior was humiliating. Oh, yes…I\u2019m definitely<\/strong> going to kill him!<\/em><\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

As the two embarrassed parents left the schoolhouse, neither glanced at the other until they reached the hitching post, where Sport waited patiently for his rider.<\/p>\n

\u201cMrs. Carter, I can\u2019t tell you how sorry I am for whatever influence Patrick must have had on Wendy,\u201d began Adam, nervously, as he fumbled with Sport\u2019s reins.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright, I assure you, Wendy is not easily influenced,\u201d she said sadly. \u201cAnd unfortunately, this isn\u2019t the first time she\u2019s been in a mess of this nature.\u201d She giggled a little to herself. \u201cOf course, I am sorry the little boy became ill, but …\u201d she turned away, a handkerchief to her mouth to cover her chuckling.<\/p>\n

Adam stared at her in shock. Somehow he\u2019d expected her to be … a little more upset, maybe? She glanced back at him and couldn\u2019t help herself; she began to laugh.<\/p>\n

He looked down, suddenly seeing a bit of the humor himself, remembering some of the stunts he\u2019d pulled as a kid. None of the stellar quality of Patrick\u2019s, but pretty wild none the less. As he thought of the image of a bunch of slightly tipsy twelve to sixteen-year-old boys, he felt a chuckle begin in his chest and bubble up to the surface. He was willing to bet those boys weren\u2019t feeling so giggly now!<\/p>\n

Within seconds, both parents of the errant schoolchildren were laughing until tears fell.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, dear!\u201d wept Veronica, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. \u201cReally, I suppose we\u2019re offering the most terrible example\u2014” but she couldn\u2019t go on, as she continued to laugh.<\/p>\n

Finally, Adam was able to catch his breath again and wiped at his own eyes. He grinned at Veronica. \u201cMrs. Carter\u2014” \u00a0he began, chuckling.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, after today,\u201d she giggled, \u201ccall me Veronica!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Veronica,\u201d he laughed. \u201cMay I invite you to have a cup of coffee with me so that we can discuss how we\u2019re going to deal with our two little monsters at home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think that would be delightful!\u201d she smiled. Adam crooked his arm for her, and still laughing, they walked toward the International House and a pot of coffee.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cWendy has always had a penchant for the unexpected,\u201d sighed Veronica as she sipped her coffee. \u201cShe\u2019s so bright, that I suppose she gets bored and that\u2019s what gets her into trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam nodded as he thought of his own problem child. \u201cI think that\u2019s a pretty fair assessment. But they\u2019re both going to have to learn to curb this desire for excitement!\u201d he said with a small smile. And then he sobered. \u201cSeriously, Veronica, what are we going to do with them? Oh, I know they\u2019re going to be caned, and believe me, it won\u2019t be pleasant. I have a feeling they will be pretty subdued for a time afterward. But how do we reinforce it at home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I usually find that Wendy would rather take a spanking, because it\u2019s over with quickly. When I impose a restriction, she finds that to be far worse.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam nodded, thoughtfully \u201cHow about this? They\u2019re to spend two weeks confined to home, the first of which is in their rooms? For Pat, that would be except during school and chores.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe same for Wendy; she has jobs she\u2019s expected to finish in the morning and evening, too,\u201d nodded Veronica thinking. \u201cI think both of them would find that a pretty substantial punishment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEspecially knowing that they\u2019ve got a wicked caning waiting for them on Monday,\u201d sighed Adam, uncomfortably. \u201cI wish that didn\u2019t have to be hanging over their heads, but I don\u2019t see any way around it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt will be a good lesson in learning to think first, before action, I suppose, though a pretty harsh one,\u201d sighed Veronica, setting down her cup. Adam noticed it was empty and gestured toward the carafe.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, please,\u201d she smiled, allowing him to refill her cup.<\/p>\n

With his attention focused on pouring, she noted his handsome face, with his high, intellectual forehead, the slightly snubbed nose, the high cheekbones, when he suddenly looked up.\u00a0 Their eyes met and Veronica colored pink with discomfort, quickly casting her eyes down to her cup. Adam drew in a deep breath and decided that he might as well say what had been on his mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cVeronica,\u201d he said softly, slowly placing his hand over hers, \u201cI know I\u2019m being forward, and I don\u2019t want to upset you. But, well, I can\u2019t explain the way I\u2019ve been feeling the last few days. I wish I could. All I know is that I can\u2019t get you out of my mind. I sit down to write a timber contract,\u201d he smiled wryly, \u201cand I\u2019m thinking of you. I try to work on anything<\/em> and I\u2019m thinking of you! All I can concentrate on is wondering if your skin feels as silky as it looks, or if the scent of honeysuckle I detect is from your hair or clothes.\u00a0 The way your eyes absolutely shine in the sunlight… oh, I\u2019m sorry, I\u2019m putting this badly,\u201d he said in frustration, blushing and shaking his head.<\/p>\n

Smiling, she put her own hand atop his and squeezed gently.<\/p>\n

\u201cBadly? I don\u2019t think so,\u201d she said gently. He hesitated and glanced into her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you … do you think…\u201d Adam hesitated, unsure of what to say and uncomfortably embarrassed. Just speak plain!<\/em> he scolded himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes,\u201d she nodded wryly. She tentatively reached out and touched his hand, looking up into his dark eyes. \u201cAdam, ever since you nearly knocked me down in the mercantile, I haven\u2019t been able to take you from my mind. I – I would like to get to know you better,\u201d she murmured, her cheeks rosy and her lips trembling slightly.<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s heart leapt as he heard her words; his eyes shone as he gently clasped both her hands in his.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you have dinner with me this evening?\u201d he asked quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I would love to, but if I have a young lady confined to her room this evening, I shouldn\u2019t leave her alone,\u201d she replied wryly.<\/p>\n

Adam frowned, then rolled his eyes, realizing that Patrick would be in the same boat. \u201cThat\u2019s true, I forgot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, if you\u2019d like, you could come to dinner at my place. Widow Hawkins has told me often that since I\u2019m the only one boarding right now, I could use her kitchen and dining room any time I wished. Would your family be home to care for Patrick?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s more would my family be willing to stand guard over Patrick,\u201d sighed Adam, scratching an ear and thinking about how this little lecture was going to be received by his young son. He frowned and nodded his head.\u00a0 \u201cYes, I\u2019m sure one of my brothers or my father will be home this evening. May I bring a bottle of wine?\u201d<\/p>\n

Veronica beamed. \u201cOh, how lovely, Adam! I haven\u2019t had wine since we left St. Joseph. That would be delightful. Do you prefer chicken or beef?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBeef, so I\u2019ll bring a red,\u201d he smiled, rising to his feet and gesturing to the waiter. \u201cI\u2019m sorry to have to hurry off, Veronica, but if I\u2019m going to get back to town for dinner, I\u2019ll have to hurry. There\u2019s a little chat I need to take care of,\u201d he said grimly. He squeezed her hand, then hesitated. Puzzled, Veronica looked at him, and he gave in to impulse. He slowly raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, looking deeply into her eyes.<\/p>\n

The electric jolt that shot through Veronica as his lips touched her hand was palpable.<\/p>\n

The tiny gasp she gave, and the gaze she returned told him everything he wanted to know. Smiling all the way to his eyes, Adam touched her cheek. \u201cUntil later,\u201d he said softly. She nodded, her heart full, and watched him leave the restaurant, and continued to gaze after him for a long time afterward.<\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

Adam trotted into the yard, his mind awhirl with disturbing thoughts: he was going to kill<\/em> his brat of a son; he was going to court his son\u2019s little friend\u2019s mother; and then, how did he feel about courting a woman again, now that he had<\/em> a young son? It was all so confusing, and exhilarating and mixed up that it made Adam chuckle to himself. It was rare he was in this boggled state of mind. He wasn\u2019t too boggled, however, to be furious with Patrick, and hearing wood being chopped at the side of the house, decided to go over and have a firm talk with his errant son.<\/p>\n

To his surprise, Dave Wilkins was there swinging the ax, not Patrick. The youngster tiredly lugged the logs up and set them on the stump, raised the ax and split them. The boy looked all in and depressed as well.<\/p>\n

Adam waited until Dave was finished with a swing before quietly asking, \u201cDave, what the hell is going on here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave jumped and whirled, saw Adam and blanched. Oh, no! Now what do I do?<\/em> He\u2019d already been chewed out by Jake fer not doin\u2019 his own work, and now one of the bosses was gonna come down on him like a duck on a June bug when he heard about the little deal made with his son. Oh, Lordy!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m waiting, Dave,\u201d said Adam quietly, eyeing the youngster. \u201cThis is supposed to be one of Patrick\u2019s chores, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave grew red-faced and shifted his feet uneasily. \u201cWell, yes, sir, Mr. Cartwright, that\u2019s true, but\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201dDave…the truth.\u201d Adam\u2019s voice was quiet and very firm.<\/p>\n

Dave gulped. Sorry, Pat,<\/em> he thought to himself sadly, but I gotta take care o\u2019 number one, here… \u201c<\/em>Well, Mr. Cartwright, y\u2019see it\u2019s like this…\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat galloped up the road towards home, his stomach lurching. There was no way he\u2019d be able to hide that he\u2019d been off the ranch this time. His father was going to be furious. And how in the name of God was he going to explain about the trouble he\u2019d gotten into in school? Groaning to himself, Pat slowed to a canter as the yard loomed ahead.<\/p>\n

Patrick brought Black Jack down to a trot, then a walk as he entered the yard, and was surprised to see Jake, the Ponderosa foreman, simply leaning against one of the hitching rails in the front yard, as thought waiting. Pat managed a weak smile, and Jake chuckled.<\/p>\n

Jake had been with Ben Cartwright now for more than twenty-five years. He\u2019d watched all the boys grow up, and had been fond of all of them, but had always had a special spot in his heart for Adam. He remembered him as a very bright, scrappy and intense little boy with a lot of gumption and stubborn will, as well as a kind and caring heart. He remembered how protective Adam had always been of his little brothers, though there were times they drove him to distraction, particularly Little Joe.\u00a0 He also remembered how hard it had been for that little boy to accept his second stepmother, and all the wrangling and hard times between her arrival and his acceptance of her. And he recalled with great pride how the boy had overnight become a man when his father\u2019s bereaved grief had left him to shoulder the load of the Ponderosa at seventeen years old.<\/p>\n

Now, Jake was watching Adam\u2019s son grow. Patrick was just as bright, as intense, and as stubborn; his father all over again. If it were possible, Jake thought Pat might be even more coldly ruthless than his father could be at times, but that could have a lot to do with his upbringing in the slums of New York. The one difference between them was that Pat had a bad habit of speaking before he thought, a mistake his father had rarely made. Fact was, even as a small boy, Adam Cartwright had very rarely done anything<\/em> without thinking about it!<\/p>\n

As Jake watched Pat trot in on his beloved Black Jack, he sighed. Adam was furious with him this time, and he\u2019d be surprised if the boy would be able to sit that horse at all for the next few days. All Jake knew was that last he heard, Pat was confined to the ranch, but the past few days he\u2019d been fudging his chores with one of the younger hands, Dave. Jake had already disciplined Dave over it, now it was Adam\u2019s turn with Patrick.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Pat!\u201d he called, as Pat glumly dismounted and started to trudge toward the barn. He looked up at the foreman, startled and questioning, as Jake walked toward him, his hand outstretched. \u201cI\u2019m supposed to put up Jack for you. Your father wants to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He watched the boy\u2019s face go pale and saw the struggle to swallow. Ooh, boy,<\/em> thought Jake. Whatever you done, young\u2019un, apparently your daddy is right in being as mad at you as he is, or you wouldn\u2019t be this scared!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGo on, Patrick,\u201d said Jake quietly. \u201cDon\u2019t make him any angrier than he already is, boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAwful mad, is he?\u201d asked Pat, nervously.<\/p>\n

\u201cSteamin\u2019,\u201d nodded Jake. \u201cGo along, now. You\u2019d best get it over with.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat was about to reply, when he heard, \u201cPatrick!\u201d and started nervously.<\/p>\n

Slowly, the youngster turned toward the porch. His father stood there, hands on his hips, with the coldest glare on his face Pat had ever seen. He gulped slightly, and handed Jack\u2019s reins to the foreman, lowered his head and walked slowly toward the porch. He stopped just about a foot beyond what he estimated his father\u2019s long reach would be and picked up his eyes. He had the good sense to wince and dropped his eyes again; the expression on his father\u2019s face was the angriest he\u2019d ever seen. Oh, man, I\u2019m really in hot water now.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cInside.\u201d<\/p>\n

That single word conveyed a myriad of emotions, and Patrick, for once in his life, knew enough to shut his mouth and obey. Slowly, carefully, he sidled around his father, managing to keep his back turned away from his father\u2019s hard right hand, as he slipped by him and into the house.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Pat lay on his back on his bed, staring miserably at the ceiling, his heart heavy. That had to have been one of the worst tongue-lashings he\u2019d ever suffered through. His father had ripped up one side of him and down the other, almost bringing him to tears without raising a hand to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t believe your audacity!\u201d his father had scolded. \u201cI confine you to the ranch, and what do you do? You disobey me, talk one of the hands into doing your chores, and then go off gallivanting with Eamon Corrigan! Now, I can understand your wanting to talk to Mr. Corrigan to learn more about your grandfather and your Irish family but would it have been so hard to ask my permission?!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe I just figured you\u2019d say no,\u201d Patrick muttered.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd that was excuse enough to defy me, hm?\u201d demanded Adam furiously. \u201cAnd Dave! Talking young Dave into doing your work! Did you know that he\u2019s been in trouble with Jake for the last three days because his own work isn\u2019t getting done? He hasn\u2019t had time! He\u2019s been doing yours!\u201d Adam paced the great room, trying hard to keep his temper under control. Finally, cooled down a bit, he turned again to his son, who was sulking in front of the fireplace, eyes fixed on the floor and not \u2013 to Adam, at any rate! – looking particularly apologetic.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd now the capper, you decide that it\u2019s funny to get some poor child drunk!\u201d shouted Adam, hands on his hips. \u201cHave you any idea how embarrassed I was, sitting there trying to figure out how to excuse your behavior? Trying to think of what on earth I could possibly say to defend you?\u201d Adam glared at him. \u201cIt finally occurred to me, there is no defense for your actions! That little boy is sick because of your reprehensible behavior, young man, and, buster, you are going to feel just as miserable by the time Miss Masterson and I get through with you!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

This time, the verbal jab got through and Patrick flinched, looking down at the tips of his boots. His father then sternly outlined what his punishment would be.<\/p>\n

His confinement to the ranch was extended another two weeks. The first week he\u2019d spend in his room, unless he was at school, at church or doing his chores. And any time his father felt he was working slowly to allow himself more time outside, another day would be added to his punishment. His meals would be served in his room, his homework would be done in his room, he would be permitted no visitors. After the first week, he\u2019d have a list of extra chores to keep him \u2018occupied\u2019 while confined to the house and yard. If he was lucky, he just might be able to be finished in time to eat with the rest of his family.<\/p>\n

And to top it all off, on Monday morning he had a caning to look forward to, administered by the school board president, on a part of his anatomy considerably further south than his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m ashamed of you, Patrick, completely and thoroughly ashamed. Go to your room! I don\u2019t even want to look at you,\u201d his father had snapped, turning away, boiling mad.<\/p>\n

Pat closed his eyes at the memory and turned over, curling up in a ball on his bed. It was just a little bunch of practical jokes! And he knew his father would never have let him go visit Corrigan if he\u2019d asked first, so that had been a nasty route for his old man to take!<\/p>\n

I hate it here! <\/em>he seethed. All he wanted to do was find a way to get out of this place. And it\u2019s all my bloody Orangeman of a father\u2019s fault!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER TEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHow did your \u2018little chat\u2019 go?\u201d asked Veronica, as she sipped her wine.<\/p>\n

\u201cUnpleasantly,\u201d Adam sighed, leaning back from the table, his stomach comfortably full of Veronica\u2019s superb roast beef. \u201cI just wish he\u2019d learn to think before he gets himself into these situations.\u201d<\/p>\n

Veronica smiled. \u201cWendy thinks far too much! By the way, she admitted she was the one who came up with the idea of practical jokes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wasn\u2019t just Wendy. Veronica, just talk with either of my brothers, and they\u2019ll be glad to tell you the jokes Pat\u2019s played on them in the last six months,\u201d replied Adam, dryly. \u201cNo, they were both to blame.\u201d He sipped his wine and glanced at her. \u201cSo, your conversation was no better, I take it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, not really. A lot of apologetic tears that stopped as soon as she realized I wasn\u2019t going to give in,\u201d sighed Veronica. She smiled sadly. \u201cRegardless, there were also some real ones.\u00a0 She\u2019s scared about Monday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2019s Pat,\u201d nodded Adam. \u201cFor that matter, so\u2019m I.\u201d He sighed, his shoulder sagging a bit, his brow furrowed with concern.<\/p>\n

Veronica nodded, understanding, then rose to her feet and began gathering serving dishes. She wanted to give him a moment to compose himself. If he was like any other man she\u2019d ever known, allowing a woman he barely knew to see when he was less than completely under control wasn\u2019t something he\u2019d endure comfortably. \u00a0\u201cJust give me a moment and I\u2019ll clear these.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me help, all right? It\u2019ll go faster,\u201d said Adam, wanting something to do. Surprised, but pleased, she allowed him to follow her into the kitchen with the dirty plates and utensils.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell you what,\u201d he said, rolling up his sleeves, \u201cI\u2019ll wash, you dry. You know where everything goes. All right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy goodness!\u201d she laughed, making an effort to shake off the somber tone of the evening. \u201cWhat talents you have, Mr. Cartwright!!\u201d She handed him a long kitchen towel and donned her own apron.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, young woman,\u201d he said with mock severity as he tied the towel around his slim waist, \u201cI\u2019ll have you knew I was chief cook and bottle washer on our trip west.\u00a0 At least after I turned five.\u201d<\/p>\n

They laughed and chatted over the dishes, and when the kitchen was shipshape again, they returned to the sitting room.\u00a0 The fireplace was crackling and welcoming as the wind howled around the house.<\/p>\n

Veronica sat down on the settee and with her eyes invited him to sit beside her. He drew in a deep breath and seated himself, willing himself to relax. It had been a long time since he\u2019d felt roused this much.\u00a0 At thirty-six, Adam considered himself a man of the world, not easily rattled or at a loss with the fairer sex.<\/p>\n

But this wasn\u2019t just another rancher\u2019s pretty daughter. This was a woman with a keen mind, humor and pathos, as well as beauty. She was a woman with experience, not some untried young virgin, but she was absolutely not<\/em> a saloon girl.\u00a0 He needed to tread carefully, because he found she mattered to him.\u00a0 And he was both excited and a little scared to realized how much.<\/p>\n

Beside him, Veronica was fighting her own inner battles.\u00a0 She knew the joys of the flesh as well as heartbreak. For the last several years she\u2019d managed to push aside those memories, but this tall, dark man with the deep, expressive voice and eyes that spoke volumes stimulated her, bringing her alive as she\u2019d once feared she\u2019d never be again. \u00a0But danger rested there; she knew it! Still, she could not stop herself from wanting to experience his touch, to feel his lips on hers, to know that she wasn\u2019t yet dead inside, but still had something to offer! All of this churned under the surface as she managed to keep her expression calm and impassive, though two small spots of color bloomed on her face, and her breath quickened. To rally herself, she gazed into the fire, a gentle smile of remembered passions dusting her lips, almost to her surprise.<\/p>\n

Adam tried to think of something to say, but found his mind was uncharacteristically blank. He glanced at Veronica and saw her staring with a small smile into the flames of the fire, as though captivated. Tentatively he placed his hand over hers on the settee, waiting for a reaction. She didn\u2019t move her hand, and her smile deepened. Slowly, Adam leaned a little forward and lightly brushed her cheek with his lips.<\/p>\n

She closed her eyes and sighed, turned toward him, her eyes shining.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it about you?\u201d he asked, his voice thick with emotion. \u201cWhat is it about you that makes me … makes me….\u201d<\/p>\n

She gently put a finger to his lips. \u201cDon\u2019t talk….\u201d she whispered, shaking her head. Then she removed her finger and leaned forward, her lips meeting his. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift, returning the kiss. He was startled by the desire implicit in her kiss and before he realized it, his arms were around her and gathered her close into his arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cVeronica…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Adam,\u201d she whispered, stroking the tips of his ears, tracing his thick black brows.<\/p>\n

Adam threw caution to the winds and drew her to him again, this time kissing her deeply, passionately. His fingers were in her hair, undoing the pins and allowing her dark hair to tumble around her shoulders. He kissed her cheeks, her throat…<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam… Adam….\u201d \u00a0she moaned, her hands on his broad shoulders and strong arms, feeling the hard, sculpted muscles rippling beneath her fingers and his elegant white shirt, hungrily gathering him into an embrace that seemed to weld them together as one.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, both realized where this was going, and as though a bucket of cold water were thrown on them, they broke apart, breathing hard and red-faced with embarrassment.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy God,\u201d Adam breathed, scrambling to his feet and putting some distance between them. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry…\u201d he whispered, turning away in an agony of embarrassment and shame. He looked around for his jacket and hat.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, no!\u201d she begged, rising to her feet and going to him. \u201cPlease, don\u2019t leave!\u201d She turned him toward her. \u201cAdam, I\u2019m as much to blame as you are,\u201d she said brokenly. \u201cThere is<\/em> something there between us, something so strong…\u201d She shook her head, helplessly shrugging. \u201cI can\u2019t explain it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam breathed in deeply and drew himself up to his full height, looking down on her. \u201cVeronica…it sounds ridiculous, we barely know each other, but I\u2019ll swear before God that I love you. I can\u2019t believe it, I\u2019m acting like a schoolboy, no older than Patrick. But I can\u2019t help it,\u201d he said wryly, his face still tinged with a flush of ardor and a little shame.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d she nodded, drawing her hair back again from being tumbled around her shoulders. \u201cI can\u2019t explain it, either, but it\u2019s been there since the moment I saw you fumbling with those slate pencils\u201d But there was no mocking in her eyes or tone. It was honest, an exposition of fact.<\/p>\n

For a moment they stood there, uncomfortable and ecstatic at the same time.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d he said, sighing, finally allowing himself to look her in the eye. \u201cWhat are we going to do about it?\u201d\u00a0 As he watched, the passion and desire drained from her eyes and something else entered, something that looked like fear… or horror. What on earth….?<\/em> He cast his mind back to what he believed he\u2019d said, trying to figure out what might have caused that reaction, that shutting down so abruptly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think we need a little time to think about that,\u201d she said quietly, turning away. He looked at her, surprised.<\/p>\n

\u201cThink<\/em> about it?\u201d he asked gently, a wry smile on his lips as he came up behind her. \u201cThinking doesn\u2019t seem to be quite the right verb, does it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam…\u201d she turned suddenly, her eyes full of pain, and something more, something he couldn\u2019t decipher. \u201cTruly, I need to think. Please… I think you\u2019d best go home. I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

Surprised by the sudden change, Adam stepped back a moment, desperately trying to get control of himself and of the situation again. He swallowed and picked up his hat, then hesitated, turning once more to her. \u201cI-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Adam, please!\u201d she cried, turning away from him, burying her face in her hands. \u201cYou don\u2019t understand! There\u2019s no way you could <\/em>understand! Just please go home!\u201d<\/p>\n

Silently he stared at her as she wept, confused and worried. He decided that he\u2019d best do as she asked and let her figure out what was troubling her. \u201cAll right, I\u2019ll go.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know what I\u2019ve said, but\u2026 \u00a0I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

She kept her back to the door, and while she wept she listened as he slowly left the room, the cold wind swirling around her as he opened the door, then closed it behind him. She continued to listen, and, as she heard his hoof beats pound away, she closed her eyes and sank to the floor in front of the fire, weeping in desolation.\u00a0 As alive as she\u2019d felt a moment earlier, she now felt as though her very heart had been ripped out and tossed into the flames.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick spent a long, lonely, and unhappy weekend. Even having the window open slightly didn\u2019t quell the feeling of being closed in that he suffered while stuck in his room. The air was stuffy, and he ended up spending most of his time in front of the frosty glass, staring out morosely at the sky.<\/p>\n

When he wasn\u2019t confined to his room, he was working his tail off on the long list of chores waiting for him.\u00a0 As tiring as they were, at least they gave him something to focus on, beyond the reality of his situation.\u00a0 He had to admit, after that blistering lecture from Dad, he had the stirrings of a very guilty conscience.\u00a0 He hadn\u2019t meant to be mean or cruel but realized now how dangerous what he and Wendy had done could have been.\u00a0 He wanted to try to talk things through with his father, but Dad seemed closed off, unapproachable somehow.\u00a0 Pat could tell his mind on something though the boy couldn\u2019t imagine what was more important right now than his, Pat\u2019s, hide!<\/p>\n

But though Adam wasn\u2019t talking, he watched the boy like a hawk.\u00a0 All through the morning and early afternoon, he\u2019d felt his father\u2019s eyes burning into his back as he split logs, cleared brush from around the barn, exercised the cow ponies, mucked out the stalls, and he resented it. It was bad enough being punished; it was another thing altogether not to be trusted. His temper boiled as he felt the injustice of the world closing in on him as effectively as the four walls of his room.<\/p>\n

Saturday afternoon was beautiful early spring weather, and it galled the youngster to have to watch it happen from his bedroom window. Upstairs, all alone, he couldn\u2019t hide from his thoughts and worries. As he leaned against the window jamb, the boy winced and uneasily rubbed his stomach.\u00a0 His belly had been in knots all day, and he\u2019d barely been able to eat.\u00a0 He hated to admit he was scared about Monday. Allowing that to surface, even just to himself, was akin to acknowledging cowardice in his eyes, and his pride suffered for it. But he was<\/em><\/strong> scared, as well as honestly outraged.\u00a0 He simply couldn\u2019t understand how his father, who declared he loved him, could allow this to happen.\u00a0 Pat would have accepted a tanning from Dad; he had done wrong and knew it.\u00a0 But this?\u00a0 This was\u2026<\/p>\n

The youngster\u2019s lips trembled as he fought to keep his composure, unable to keep echoes of his mother\u2019s flogging from his memory.\u00a0 In front of everybody, this was gonna happen.\u00a0 They\u2019d stripped Ma from the waist up to flog her. Would they do that to him? How bad would it be?! He remembered the pain of the cane cracking down on his hand and shuddered as he tried to imagine what that pain across his hind end would feel like. Anything like when Dad used his belt? He remembered the fire of that cane, just one, single stroke… he shuddered.<\/p>\n

Miserably, the boy turned from the window, groaning softly as his stomach clenched again.<\/p>\n

All of Corrigan\u2019s words rang in his ears; words of oppression, of struggles for power and control, of injustice. And in his current state of mind, Patrick wove a tapestry for himself of self-directed lies and half-truths as unsubstantial as an embroidered wall-hanging made of tulle, and just as full of holes. Without an adult to help him understand, this boy\u2019s imagination ran wild.<\/p>\n

Sunday was even worse. At mass, he devoutly prayed for the Lord to deliver him, to give him some sign that his dad would intervene and stop this from happening. As the day wore on, his faith was shaken and he miserably felt as alone as he had after his mother died. His nerves were a mess; he couldn\u2019t eat and had trouble sleeping.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0o-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At the knock on his door, Pat wearily turned his head from his pillow, offering a quiet, \u201cCome in.\u201d<\/p>\n

When his father entered the room, Pat first looked in frightened hope toward his father\u2019s face. Please, please tell me you ain\u2019t gonna let this happen!<\/em><\/p>\n

The man\u2019s heart ached at the expression he saw on his boy\u2019s face, and he drew in a breath, focusing on the pattern of the bedroom rug to compose himself.\u00a0 He looked up then and looked at his son with compassion. \u201cI thought you might need to talk,\u201d Adam said quietly, coming to the side of the bed and sitting down beside his boy.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s heart ached; he wanted his father to protect him, he didn\u2019t want to talk! Rubbing at his stomach, the boy rolled off the bed and he put a little distance between them. \u201cNothin\u2019 to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sighed.\u00a0 He\u2019d been so preoccupied with this crazy situation with Veronica that he\u2019d wasted precious time, not being there for Pat when he\u2019d truly needed him, and he regretted it badly. \u201cPat\u2026 son\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you ain\u2019t gonna stop this from happenin\u2019, if you\u2019re gonna let somebody else beat<\/em> me, then you and me, we ain\u2019t got nothin\u2019 to say to each other!\u201d Pat ground out, angrily.\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAn\u2019 if you\u2019re waiting to watch me fall apart and start bawlin\u2019, then think again!\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam studied him, breathing hard, suffering, and wanted nothing so much as to gather the boy in his arms and hug him close.\u00a0 He believed it was fear and bravado that was doing the talking but was unaware of the level of betrayal his boy was experiencing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry you feel that way,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cI understand how you feel-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t understand anything<\/em><\/strong> about me!\u201d Pat flared. \u201cSo just let me be!\u201d\u00a0 He whirled away and gripped the window ledge hard enough to turn his knuckles white.<\/p>\n

Having struggled alone with this terror for two days had rendered Adam as the villain in Pat\u2019s eyes. Once Patrick realized that his father was going to be adamant and force him to go through with facing what would come tomorrow, he shut him out as though a thick sheet of glass were between them; Patrick might have to see<\/em> his father there in the room but didn\u2019t have to hear him<\/p>\n

In the wee hours of Monday, Patrick still stared at the ceiling of his room, fighting the impulse to run as hard as the impulse to cry. Finally, he fell into an exhausted, troubled sleep wishing that the previous week had never happened.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Monday morning, Mike Devlin watched in curiosity as Pat rode up for school a bit earlier than usual, looking pale as a sheet and in the company of his father. One of the other boys nudged him and pointed toward Mr. MacDonald – the school superintendent\u2019s – buggy and raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe pranks?\u201d the other boy mouthed at him. Aghast, Mike swung back to his friend and understood. Public punishment didn\u2019t happen often at the school, but Mike knew a parent was always required to be present when it was administered by the head of the school.\u00a0 He tried to surreptitiously gauge Adam Cartwright\u2019s mood, but he looked as rigid as a fence post as he dismounted beside his son.<\/p>\n

Mike’s two oldest brothers, Cal and Danny, knew Adam Cartwright and had been friends of his for years, but Micah had always felt a certain awe for the oldest of the Cartwright brothers. He knew Little Joe Cartwright pretty well because he was best friends with Mitch, his next older brother, and Hoss Cartwright had to be the most easy-goin’ man he’d ever met. But Adam?\u00a0 Oh, Pat\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat dismounted and silently unsaddled Black Jack and turned him loose in the school yard corral. His eyes downcast, he trudged his way to his father, who had slapped his reins around the hitching post with a very stern look on his face. Pat slowly came to a stop beside his father and glanced up nervously. Adam’s single nod toward the door made Pat sigh. His face white and his head down, he dragged his heels as he headed in the door, his father following right behind him<\/p>\n

Inside, Wendy was already waiting in misery with her mother, who was looking nervous herself. Mr. MacDonald was seated in Miss Masterson’s chair, and the teacher herself was standing to the side, looking sadly at her young student.<\/p>\n

Patrick hung up his coat and followed Adam into the school room.<\/p>\n

“Thank you for coming, Adam,” nodded MacDonald.<\/p>\n

“Morning, John,” said Adam quietly. Pat stood besider his father, uncomfortably shifting his feet.<\/p>\n

“Patrick, Wendy, come up here,” said MacDonald, quietly, rising to his feet and coming around the side of the desk, the cane in his hand. The children slowly obeyed.<\/p>\n

“Well children, I think you know why you’re here, and why your parents are here,” said Mr. MacDonald, very sternly. “I want you both to understand that dangerous practical jokes will not be tolerated in this school. Is that clear?”<\/p>\n

“Yes, sir,” the answered in unison, neither able to take their eyes off that wicked-looking cane.<\/p>\n

“Miss Masterson, call in your students.”<\/p>\n

Adam walked over to Veronica’s side and stood beside her, near the front of the room, offering silent support. Adam knew Pat deserved this; he also knew he’d survive it. But it was awfully hard for him to stand there, waiting and watching what was about to happen to his son. He imagined it was just as difficult for Veronica.<\/p>\n

It was the first he\u2019d seen her since the unfortunate, confusing parting on Friday evening, but he shoved his disappointment aside to be there for her lean on. A simple touch to her hand made Veronica look up at him, her lower lip unsteady as she miserably awaited the fate her daughter faced. She knew he had to be as upset for Patrick as she was for Wendy and unobtrusively squeezed his hand in return.<\/p>\n

As Pat stood waiting at the front of the room, the ticking of the clock on Miss Masterson\u2019s shelf sounded unnaturally elongated, from one agonizing second to the next.\u00a0 His insides were shaking, and he kept his hands clenched to avoid them trembling, as he struggled to maintain his composure. The only way he could do it was to avoid looking at Wendy, which he realized was probably mean, but he just couldn’t help it. The other children slipped silently into their seats. Word got around a small school fast. Pat thanked God that so many of the littlest kids were absent from school with the measles. That knowledge helped his sense of battered pride a little.<\/p>\n

“Children, you are all aware of the shameful behavior last week that put the wellbeing of several classmates in danger.\u00a0 You are all about to see clearly what the punishment is for willfully causing pain and harm to another classmate, even in the name of a practical joke,” said Mr. MacDonald very sternly, his tongue lingering distastefully on the last two words.<\/p>\n

Pat stole a quick glance at Wendy, and it almost undid him. Wendy’s eyes were closed, her lower lip trembling and silent tears slipping down her cheeks.<\/p>\n

“Miss Carter, step up here please,” he said quietly. MacDonald was not a cruel man; Adam knew that. He could see that John wasn’t enjoying this. But it didn’t make him feel any better.<\/p>\n

For a half a heartbeat, Adam considered calling this whole thing off, until he was suddenly reminded of a painful lesson from his own childhood. He’d gotten into some mischief on the wagon train heading west, snitching apples from another train member\u2019s Conestoga. When his father discovered it, Ben had marched him over to the head of the other family, a dour, stern man named Ohrbach, told him to apologize, and then told Mr. Ohrbach to punish him as he saw fit. Adam had been shocked and dismayed.<\/p>\n

After a sound spanking, and a tearful, embarrassing walk back through the train to their own wagon, Pa had sat Adam down and sternly told him that when he was in their wagon, their home, his mistakes and mischief would be dealt with by his father or his stepmother, Inger. When his mischief reached beyond the family, he had stepped outside of Ben’s protection and would have to answer to the person he’d hurt. It had been a hard lesson for the five-year-old to learn, but it had stayed with him all these thirty years.<\/p>\n

Adam drew in a deep breath as he realized his young son was learning that same lesson today. He sighed and looked over at Veronica and saw that her eyes were locked on her daughter, trying to offer her support.<\/p>\n

Mr. MacDonald gestured for the girl to step to the side of Miss Masterson\u2019s desk and directed her to bend over, bracing her hands on the desk. \u00a0Trembling in terror, Wendy slowly obeyed, trembling like a brittle leaf in a fall wind.<\/p>\n

“As I understand you were less involved than your young friend, you will receive three strokes, Miss Carter. Are you ready?”<\/p>\n

Drawing in a deep breath, Wendy glanced towards her mother in a final appeal. Veronica forced herself to keep an impassive look on her face; there would be no reprieve. With a shudder, Wendy turned back to the superintendent and nodded.<\/p>\n

MacDonald completed his unpleasant task. Adam turned away slightly flinching at each cut of the cane and the wail that followed it.<\/p>\n

When it was over, Wendy was weeping and rubbing her bottom and shifting her feet despite herself. A quick look at Veronica made Adam realize she was just barely hanging onto her composure and quickly turned away.\u00a0 He peered instead at his son, and his heart ached. Pat was white as a sheet; sympathy and concern were etched into his face as he watched as Wendy miserably stand to the side of the desk as old Mac indicated, sobbing softly in pain.<\/p>\n

“Mr. Cartwright.”<\/p>\n

Swallowing hard, Patrick walked up to the desk. He shot one glance of entreaty at his father and firmed his lips when he saw Adam\u2019s stony countenance. He was too scared and upset to really think about what might be behind it; he simply attributed it to his father\u2019s cold, aloof nature. He was unable to see that Adam was as upset and worried for his son as Patrick was for himself. Drawing in a deep breath, Pat didn’t wait for MacDonald to tell him to do so, he stepped back and assumed the position.<\/p>\n

“Mr. Cartwright, I understand you were the one who procured the whiskey. Is that true?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d Patrick answered softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cVery well. Then your punishment will be more severe. You will receive six strokes. Are you ready?” asked MacDonald.<\/p>\n

“Just do it,” said Pat between clenched teeth. He shut his eyes, gritted his teeth and waited.<\/p>\n

His eyes snapped open in shock when the cane connected, and he ground his teeth together to keep from yelling. In desperation, Pat squeezed his eyes shut harder and tensed his body, telling himself he could take it, he’d get through it. At the second cut, he gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white and breathed deeply. At the third cut he groaned softly and lightly stamped one foot fighting the need to cut and run. He found himself sweating in his effort to control himself. He wouldn’t cry, not in front of all these kids, he told himself, he would not<\/em> cry!<\/p>\n

But he couldn’t help it.<\/p>\n

Adam’s face was ashen as he watched his son, desperately wishing he could help. But Pat had to get through this one alone. He winced with every cut of the cane, and it almost seemed though he could feel the sting himself.<\/p>\n

Pat jaw ached from gritting his teeth so hard, and his eyes burned with tears. It was a few moments before he realized it was over. Mr. MacDonald had laid down the cane. Patrick slowly straightened, trembling, his fists clenched desperately. Shakily, he wiped at his eyes, angrily brushing away tears that wouldn\u2019t stop falling no matter what he did, and struggled not to groan.<\/p>\n

“Are we going to have a repeat of this nonsense, Mr. Cartwright, Miss Carter?” asked MacDonald quietly.<\/p>\n

“No, sir,” Wendy whispered, tearfully.<\/p>\n

Pat merely shook his head, not trusting his voice, wincing. His backside seemed to hurt even worse now than before!<\/p>\n

“All right, then. You may both return to your seats,” said MacDonald quietly. Wendy and Pat slowly, painfully, began the stiff walk back to their desks, their eyes downcast. Wendy’s seat was right near the front of the room, so Pat walked the last leg alone. He hurt so bad that it didn’t matter that his eyes and nose were red from crying, that more tears welled, or his breathing was kinda ragged. He gave in and rubbed his backside now and didn\u2019t care who saw.<\/p>\n

Patrick arrived at the desk he shared with Micah, gingerly eased himself down and sucked air in between his teeth as his bottom connected with the seat. His breath hitched in a gasp as he shifted around miserably.<\/p>\n

Mr. MacDonald sighed, glanced out over the incredibly shocked classroom, then gathered Adam and Mrs. Carter with his eyes and nodded toward the door. He was used to dealing with shaken parents. As the white-faced mother and father walked toward the door, he hung the cane back on the wall and turned to Miss Masterson. “Thank you, Miss Masterson.”<\/p>\n

There was dead silence in the room as the door closed behind the adults. Liz Masterson unhappily looked around her classroom.<\/p>\n

Wendy was still crying, fidgeting desperately, looking as though she wanted nothing more than to spring up and run. Her seatmate gently patted her hand, helplessly.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s shoulders were rigid as he supported his weight on his forearms and elbows. leaning far forward to take his weight off his rump. His lower lip trembled, and he shakily continued to wipe at his red, damp eyes.<\/p>\n

Half the children looked at Wendy and Pat in shock and sympathy; the other half couldn’t look at them at all.<\/p>\n

Well, Mr. MacDonald had wanted to set an example. He certainly had. Her whole class was badly upset.<\/p>\n

She made a snap decision. “Children, get your coats on.” She started walking down the aisles. All the children, even Wendy and Patrick looked up in surprise. Liz turned at the door and announced, “We’re going on a nature walk!”<\/p>\n

The rest of the children crowed with pleasure and scrambled to their feet, hurrying to the door. The last two out were Pat and Wendy. As they came alongside her, she put out a hand to touch Wendy’s cheek, gently stroking it, and then turned to Pat and put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug, earning her two small, damp-eyed, grateful smiles.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam walked slowly down the stairs, seeing his younger brother cleaning a rifle in the great room.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you do me a couple of favors?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, shoot,\u201d responded Joe as he placed an oil-dampened rag on the tip of a rod and rammed it firmly down the muzzle of the gun.\u00a0 His eyes studied the debris on the rag, but he glanced up quickly toward his older brother. \u00a0\u201cWhaddya need?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sighed and flopped into the blue velvet chair by the hearth next to where Joe was working. \u201cYou\u2019re planning to head into town to load up the new branding irons, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d his younger brother nodded, setting down the rifle he\u2019d just finished and picking up the next. He also winked and offered his brother an impish grin.\u00a0 \u201cI was also gonna stop by the school and invite Liz to the dance Friday night. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, first off, stop by Doc Martin\u2019s and let him know it looks like Dave\u2019s sick.\u201d<\/p>\n

Startled, Joe stopped, his hand holding the cleaning rod arrested mid-shove and gently set down his cleaning cloth, rod and the rifle.\u00a0 Worried, he studied Adam.\u00a0 \u201cOh, no,\u201d the young man murmured, thinking of the cheerful boy who\u2019d been a part of the ranch for over a year now. \u00a0\u201cYou\u2019re thinking he\u2019s got the measles, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t see how it could be anything else,\u201d nodded Adam. \u201cHe\u2019s got a fever, he\u2019s coughing his fool head off, and just feeling miserable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam was pensive; he and Ben had talked about his own likelihood of developing the disease. He couldn\u2019t remember having been seriously ill at all while at college, beyond a few bad colds from the Boston winter weather. And when Pat was asked, he couldn\u2019t recall his mother ever saying \u2018measles,\u2019 but honestly couldn\u2019t be sure.\u00a0 They would have to simply keep an eye on him and deal with it if the situation arose.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s really leavin\u2019 us shorthanded. How\u2019s Hank? He any better?\u201d asked Joe thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest.<\/p>\n

\u201cNope.\u201d Adam shook his head. \u201cHis fever is roaring, his chest is filling up\u2026he\u2019s a real sick man, Joe. It\u2019s frightening.\u201d Adam rubbed his nose. \u201cCharlie\u2019s feeling better though. The rash is fading and his fever\u2019s broken.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, sure, I\u2019ll be glad to let the doc know,\u201d Joe got to his feet, gathering his cleaning supplies. Then he remembered what Adam had said. \u201cWhat was the other favor?\u201d<\/p>\n

His older brother shared a knowing look with him. \u201cWill you time it so you can pick up Pat at school?\u201d his older brother asked, smiling sadly. Joe stared a moment, then he smirked, understanding.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, sure. There should be plenty of room in the back of the buckboard,\u201d he agreed.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, don\u2019t give him a hard time,\u201d said Adam quietly, seriously. \u201cJohn really gave him a beating. He\u2019s gotta be sore as hell.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe grew more serious, and his smile changed to one of compassion. \u201cI remember, Adam. I\u2019ve been on the receiving end of one or two of Old Mac\u2019s canings myself. Sure,\u201d he said with a reassuring pat on his brother\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI\u2019ll pick him up, no problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat suffered through the morning; instead of a certain amount of relief that it was all over, he was feeling decidedly sick to his stomach. Most of the other kids took their lunches outside, but Pat wanted a flat surface to rest his meal on and where he could try to eat standing up. Wendy was doing the same on the other side of the room.<\/p>\n

The nature walk had helped a little \u2013 anything was better than having to sit! – but he was still tense and upset. Anger burned white-hot with an occasional surge of rage, followed by a sting of betrayal nearly as searing as the cane marks on his backside.<\/p>\n

Mike had tried to gauge his friend\u2019s mood, torn between wanting to support his buddy but also wanting to give him privacy if he was still too aggrieved to talk.\u00a0 But in the long run, he remembered past times when he\u2019d been in Pat\u2019s boots himself; having someone there, showing they cared, had always felt better than suffering alone.\u00a0 Making up his mind, Micah plopped his lunch down on the desk beside his buddy and looked up at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou feelin\u2019 better?\u201d he asked sympathetically.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d grunted Pat. He tried to nibble at the good sandwich Hop Sing packed him without much interest, thinking that maybe his upset stomach was partially due to being hungry. After all, he\u2019d certainly had no appetite that morning at breakfast. Supper last night hadn\u2019t been a real joy either. But now, he found swallowing a bite made his stomach cramp as soon as the food hit, making him queasy, the food feeling like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.\u00a0 He rubbed his midriff uneasily and put the barely touched sandwich down,<\/p>\n

Mike adroitly turned the conversation towards other, more pleasant things to occupy his friend\u2019s mind, and it seemed to work for a little while. But then he noticed that Pat was sweating hard and looking awfully green. \u201cYou okay?\u201d he asked in concern.<\/p>\n

\u201cI… I don\u2019 think so,\u201d Pat whispered, gulping a little.<\/p>\n

Mike cast a worried glance around for Miss Masterson, who had been keeping a gentle eye on both Pat and Wendy. Thankfully, she was already on her way across the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you feeling ill, Pat?\u201d she asked gently.<\/p>\n

The boy raised his head in dismay, then, eyes suddenly widening, he clapped a hand to his mouth and ran for the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cMicah, keep an eye on things in here!\u201d she ordered, grabbing her shawl and a large dipper of water. She stopped just long enough to grab Patrick\u2019s jacket off the coat rack before hurrying outside.<\/p>\n

She saw him at the edge of a small grove of trees, leaning against a tree and retching, out of sight of the other students. Rushing over, she dropped his jacket away from them and quickly put up her right hand to hold his head while he heaved violently, using her left hand to rub his back.<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy…\u201d she murmured noting with dismay that he\u2019d managed to spray himself pretty liberally in the process.<\/p>\n

At a brief respite in his heaving, he groaned, dizzy and shaky with the strain.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re going to be alright, dear,\u201d she reassured him gently. \u201cJust breathe slowly and deeply.\u00a0 Been sick all day?\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded in misery, relaxing a little, one hand leaning heavily on the sapling, and allowing her to hold his head while he panted and tried to get his breath back. \u201c\u2026 all weekend,\u201d he gulped, his face very pale.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not surprised,\u201d she said bitterly; she couldn\u2019t imagine those two poor children having to suffer for three days in terror and apprehension. It was cruel!<\/p>\n

It took another few moments of dry heaves before he finally felt like he might live through this.\u00a0 All the way through, Liz held his head and rubbed his back, soothing him. Pat hated being sick; he\u2019d decided years ago that he\u2019d rather have a broken bone than spend an hour throwing up.<\/p>\n

\u201cFeel a little better?\u201d she asked gently. He nodded wearily and leaned his back against the tree, careful to avoid bumping his throbbing rear end. He shakily accepted the dipperful of water from Miss Masterson.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t swallow it, Pat,\u201d he heard her say softly. \u201cYour stomach will just bring it right back up again. Take a mouthful and swish it around, just enough to get the taste out of your mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded weakly, did as he was bid and spat it out to the ground.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, boy,\u201d he sighed, wiping his forehead with his sleeve and shivering slightly in the cold. As the sleeve came up to his face, he caught a whiff of something sour, and frowned, looking at sleeve then down at himself. \u201cAw\u2026.\u201d He groaned in disgust as he looked at his vomit-spattered clothes. He looked up at Miss Masterson, unhappily.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry about it, honey,\u201d she said, with a gentle smile. \u201cYou\u2019re not feeling well, and you\u2019re going home.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

= = = =<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick saddled Black Jack and checked the cinch three times, finally sighing and looking at the seat of the saddle. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and sprang into the saddle\u2026and yelped.<\/p>\n

He managed to ride out of Virginia City with his head high. For fifteen minutes he galloped hell bent for leather, desperate to ride as fast as he could for as far as he could. Afterward, he felt as though, if asked, he could clearly point out where all six stripes were on his rear end, they were so clearly making their presence known! \u00a0He pulled Jack up short, looked around him, and dismounted quickly, desperately trying to ease some of the sting from his seat, leaning one arm on the saddle and resting his head. God almighty, but this hurts\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

Sighing, he raised his head and looked around him to get his bearings. Picking up Jack\u2019s reins he started walking toward the creek, just about a quarter mile to the east. Pat carefully picked his way over the rocky ground to the water\u2019s edge, letting Jack drink at the stream. He eased himself down to his knees, wincing, and leaned forward to cup some icy water to drink. The water was good and refreshed him a little; he figured it had been long enough since he\u2019d been sick to risk swallowing it. He got slowly to his feet, and looked out over the land, started to rub himself again, then stopped, flinching.\u00a0 If anything, rubbing made the pain even worse rather than provide comfort. Damn! Is this sting ever gonna let up?!<\/em><\/p>\n

It\u2019d take a good three to four hours to walk home, provided he didn\u2019t stop for anything. Distracted, he didn\u2019t watch his footing as he walked over to retrieve Jack\u2019s reins. The creek bed still had patches of ice, and Pat slipped, his feet flying out from under him and landing him, hard, on his rump. Yowling, he rolled over onto his stomach, grimacing in pain. He struggled for a moment, then miserably gave in and, burying his face in his arms, finally began to sob.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe picked up the branding irons at the smithy and got the buckboard to the schoolhouse just as Liz was releasing her students. He grinned and waved at her, standing on the porch of the school wrapped in her shawl. She caught his eye and smiled, waving back. As the children ran for the street or the corral she walked over to the buckboard.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid Pat get home all right?\u201d she asked with a smile.<\/p>\n

Joe looked at her, mid-smile, and stared. \u201cWhat \u2026 what do you mean, did Pat get home? Isn\u2019t he here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Now it was her turn to stare. \u201cBut, Joe\u2026 I sent him home around 11:30 this morning!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSent him home?\u201d Joe was totally confused.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she sighed. \u201cPoor child\u2026he was so upset after this morning\u2026.\u201d \u00a0she looked questioningly at him, wondering if he knew. Joe grimaced and nodded. Liz went on, \u201cWell, anyway, he was so upset that he got awfully sick to his stomach and when he tried to eat some lunch, he became ill. He was so uncomfortable that I sent him home. He rode out, which is more than I expected, frankly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe giggled, earning him a frown from Liz. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Liz, I really do know how he must be feeling. So does Adam. That\u2019s why he asked me to come in and pick Pat up with the buckboard so he wouldn\u2019t have to ride Jack home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, dear,\u201d sighed Liz. Here I’ve gone and made his situation worse!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, I just don\u2019t understand how I could have missed him,\u201d Joe wondered. \u201cIf he got walloped as bad as Adam said, there\u2019s no way he could have ridden all the way home. He\u2019d have to get off and walk some.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s true! I wonder where he is?\u201d she wondered, worrying a bit. \u201cJoe, he was awfully sick. I mean, he looked better by the time he left, so I thought it would be safe enough to let him go, but\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure he\u2019s all right,\u201d reassured Joe, wondering himself. Then he shook himself; heck, he\u2019d lived through punishments from Old Mac; Patrick would, too. He bumped back to reality just before flicking the reins and looked down at Liz.<\/p>\n

\u2018Wait a minute! I almost forgot what I came over here for!\u201d he grinned and jumped down from the wagon seat.\u00a0 Taking her right hand in his, his tucked his left behind him in a courtly bow. \u201cMiz Masterson?\u201d he asked, in a gallant, debonair Southern voice, one eyebrow raised at a lazy, rakish angle.<\/p>\n

She giggled. \u201cMr. Cartwright?\u201d she replied in kind.<\/p>\n

\u201cI would be most honored, ma\u2019am, if you would consent to allow me to escort you to the barn dance Friday evening? Would you, by any chance, ma\u2019am, be free to attend, ma\u2019am?\u201d exaggerating the drawl to the point that Liz was laughing out loud.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, suh, I would be most pleased to have you as mah escort, suh!\u201d she smiled, curtseying gracefully.<\/p>\n

\u201cPick you up about seven? I don\u2019t think I\u2019ll be able to get back into town until Friday, we\u2019re going to be getting ready for the spring round-up,\u201d smiled Joe, stepping closer to her, hanging on to her hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeven would be fine,\u201d she said softly, looking up into his brilliant green eyes. My goodness, but he\u2019s a handsome one! <\/em>she thought dreamily.<\/p>\n

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, deviltry shining out of those eyes. He glanced slowly around the schoolyard, first to the left, then to the right, and back at Liz, who was smiling, her cheeks pink.<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody\u2019s around,\u201d he whispered, eyebrows up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re right\u2026nobody\u2019s around,\u201d she nodded, smiling.<\/p>\n

He leaned forward, grinned. \u201cThink I could risk a kiss, Miss Schoolmarm?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think you might,\u201d she nodded.<\/p>\n

Joe gathered her into his arms and took the risk.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat squatted by the creek bed, careful to keep his backside up off the heels of his boots. He cupped his hands into the creek and gingerly washed his face; the cold water felt good on his hot eyes and face and his swollen nose. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and sighed. He shivered a little in the cold and glanced up at the sun.\u00a0 It looked to be just about two in the afternoon.\u00a0 He still had at least a three-hour walk ahead of him. Sighing, he figured he\u2019d better get going or he’d be lucky to get home before supper was cleared away for the night.<\/p>\n

He hated to admit it, but he honestly felt better after having given in to a good bout of tears. Shaking his head in irritated embarrassment, he gathered Jack\u2019s reins and grumpily figured there was one good thing about a long walk home: it\u2019d give him that much longer for evidence of his crying jag to fade. He guided Jack back up the hill to the road and began walking.<\/p>\n

As Patrick trudged along the road, he thought back to all the fights he\u2019d gotten into his life, fights that had left him hurting worse than this. Why did this caning bother him so much? After a moment\u2019s reflection he realized there were two reasons: first, he\u2019d had to stand still and take this one, without fighting back. Secondly, and most important to him, he simply could not understand how his father just stood there and allowed it to happen! It was just like Corrigan had said, he thought, angrily. The Orangemen say<\/em> they care, but when push comes to shove…<\/p>\n

Seething with resentment, Pat forced his long legs into longer strides, trying to ignore the discomfort it caused, anxious to cover as much ground as quickly as he could. His stomach was back under control and he was getting hungry. The more he walked, the more he hurt, and the more he hurt, the angrier and more frustrated he got.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d run away! That was it! Then his conscience kicked in, and he sighed, slowing his pace a little. No Riordan had ever run away from anything; no Cartwright, either, from the looks of things.<\/p>\n

But what if he were running to<\/em> <\/strong>something, instead of away? Pat thought about Eamon Corrigan and what he was doing to try to free Ireland from the British and let her be a united Ireland in her own right. That was worthwhile work, wasn\u2019t it? His own mother had tried so hard to achieve that.\u00a0 Even she had realized that life with an Orangeman would never be a reality!<\/p>\n

Pat thought hard for awhile about the life he\u2019d built here out the in the West, with his father, uncles, and grandfather. He frowned as he tried to imagine life without them, but every time he faltered a little, he remembered back to this morning, and how his father had stood by and simply watched as he was beaten. Pat\u2019s jaw set stubbornly; he\u2019d devote some serious thought to going with Corrigan and figuring out how to help the countrymen of his mother find their freedom.<\/p>\n

Maybe, just maybe… somewhere along the way, he\u2019d find his own.<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER ELEVEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat trudged in the door just before supper time, He was one weary boy. It had been a long walk, even with his occasional ten-minute spurts of suffering through sitting in that damned saddle. Now his feet hurt as well, throbbing right along with his rear end.<\/p>\n

Taking in an exhausted view of the great room, Pat saw his uncles huddled over the oak table in front of the hearth playing a game of checkers. His father stood in front of the fire, weight resting mostly on one leg, his arms crossed as he appeared to stare into the flames. Seeing him made Pat remember being abandoned to his fate that morning, and the boy clamped his teeth shut, his jaw jutting out in stubborn irritation as he turned toward the hooks by the door.<\/p>\n

Adam, hearing the door, turned quickly as Patrick first entered the house. Since the boy was scowling down at his coat, unbuttoning it then tossing his hat onto the sideboard and hanging up his coat, Pat couldn\u2019t see the sudden relaxation of worry and concern his father\u2019s face had been wearing for the last hour or two, or see the relaxation of tension in his shoulders as he realized his boy was home, and was safe.\u00a0\u00a0 And given the mood he was in, even if he had<\/em><\/strong> seen them, it wasn\u2019t likely he\u2019d ascribe them any positive motivation.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was getting worried,\u201d Adam said in a quiet, gentle voice. \u201cAre you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh, sure.\u00a0 Now <\/strong>you make believe you care\u2026<\/em> Pat had done a fine job of working up a bad temper on his walk home, all of it was aimed at his old man. He walked to the table behind the settee and finally looked up, a coldly hostile expression on his young face. \u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d he grunted. \u201cWhen\u2019s supper?\u201d<\/p>\n

At his desk in the office area, Ben raised his head sharply, first startled, then annoyed by his grandson\u2019s tone of voice, and watched his son\u2019s expression change. Hoss and Little Joe did the same, glancing at each other uneasily.<\/p>\n

Adam frowned. So\u2026 still a bit of a lesson to learn, apparently\u2026<\/em> \u201cFor you, when you\u2019re finished with your chores,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cChores!\u201d Pat then remembered his sentence of solitary confinement. \u201cAre you tryin\u2019 to tell me that even after today,\u201d he said incredulously, slamming his fists to his hips only to flinch in discomfort, then quickly move his right hand when it came too close to a sore spot, \u201cyou\u2019re gonna make me go through with all that?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEven after today,\u201d nodded Adam, slowly walking over to his son. \u201cI told you exactly what your punishment was going to be. The caning was just part of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s blue eyes smoldered. \u201cI\u2019m late \u2018cos I had to walk<\/em> most of the way home!\u201d he spat out. \u201c It ain\u2019t \u2018cos I was havin\u2019 a good time someplace!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m sorry about that, but you\u2019ve only yourself to blame,\u201d said Adam seriously. There was no anger in his voice, but he was resolute.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s disbelief in the unfairness he was facing was gargantuan. As if to undermine his outrage, the boy\u2019s stomach growled with hunger \u2013 loud enough for even his uncles to hear and look at each other in concern. His gnawing belly caused his resolve to be a total pain in the ass weaken a little, and his next words were voiced in a tired, pleading tone, even if the words weren\u2019t exactly conciliatory. \u201cFor cryin\u2019 out loud, can\u2019t I just eat first? I\u2019m hungry!\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam struggled for a moment between irritation at Patrick\u2019s attitude and sympathy for the kid; he\u2019d had an awfully rough day. He almost capitulated, then stopped himself. He believed that right now, Pat needed firmness, not coddling. His young son had a lesson to learn, and it appeared he hadn\u2019t gotten there yet; his attitude and tone of voice were still far too fresh for Adam\u2019s liking.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know the rules, Patrick. You don\u2019t work, you don\u2019t eat,\u201d he said, quietly, shaking his head. \u201cGo get your chores done, and I\u2019ll have Hop Sing prepare your supper on a tray.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat stood beside the sofa table, his face a study of indignation and resentment. He was right on the edge of a tantrum but managed, just barely, to hold himself in check. He dropped his eyes and turned away from the table, pounding his feet to the door, grabbing his coat again. He continued out, slamming the door behind him.<\/p>\n

He stalked out to the barn, cussing under his breath, and wearing a black scowl on his face. In his present state of mind, he refused to recognize the sympathy in his father\u2019s eyes or the gentleness in his tone as he talked with him. Pat had had a bad day, and he was bound and determined that everyone around him was gonna suffer for it!<\/p>\n

= = = =<\/p>\n

After finally finishing at the woodpile and honing the ax \u2013 his last chore of the day – Pat dragged himself back into the house, starving hungry and just wanting to eat, sleep, and hopefully forget this whole rotten day had ever dawned.<\/p>\n

“Where is everybody?\u201d he grunted, seeing only his uncles in the room as he hung up his coat and hat, briskly rubbing his hands together and approaching the fire to warm up. He absently perched on the arm of Granddad\u2019s leather chair, then hissed in pain, hastily straightening up again, gingerly rubbing himself uncomfortably. He shot Joe a glare when his uncle\u2019s usual woodpecker-like giggle could be heard from the settee.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa and Adam had that school board meetin\u2019 to go to,\u201d answered Hoss, mildly, as he read his newspaper.<\/p>\n

Joe was enjoying a rare moment of being able to prop his boots up on the settee while reading a book; Pa wasn\u2019t there to order his feet off the furniture, and he was taking advantage of it. \u201cYou have something to eat yet?\u201d asked Joe, with a grin, as he munched on a cookie.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou kiddin\u2019?\u201d Pat scoffed, plunging his hands into his pockets, and pulling them out again as his pants pulled too tightly across his hind end.\u00a0 Morosely, he stared \u00a0into the fire. \u201cThink old Ironpants\u2019d let me eat when there\u2019s work to be done? \u2018You don\u2019t work, you don\u2019t eat!\u2019<\/em> \u201d Pat\u2019s rude imitation of his father, right down to the knitted black brows, hands on his hips and the stern expression, made Joe giggle again. Even Hoss had to struggle to keep from laughing.<\/p>\n

Pat sighed and dragged his weary, aching body toward the kitchen. \u201cI\u2019ll bet Hop Sing didn\u2019t even bother to -\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing make you suppah!\u201d snapped the Chinese man coming around the kitchen corner into the dining room, a tray in his hands. His sudden appearance startled Pat, and he flushed a little when he realized Hop Sing had to have heard his rude comments. \u201cFatha say you eat in bedroom!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat made a sour face and glanced at his uncles. \u201cSee what I mean?\u201d he complained, raising an eyebrow and spreading his hands in demanded acknowledgment.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou better watch your step, Pat,\u201d advised Hoss with a grin. \u201c \u2018Old Ironpants\u2019,\u201d he chuckled. \u201cAdam hears you callin\u2019 him that and you\u2019ll wish you had<\/em> iron pants!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA little late for that,\u201d muttered the boy as he scowled, taking the tray from Hop Sing and trudging up the stairs while his uncles laughed below.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam hesitated outside the Widow Hawkins\u2019s boarding house, reins in his hands, unsure of whether to go up to the door and knock or get back on his horse. He sighed; I\u2019m here, I might as well go through with it. He\u2019d spent most of the day wishing he could figure out what on earth had gone wrong Friday night. Had he pushed too hard, too fast? He was usually pretty sharp about the signals a woman would send him; he was hardly a choirboy, after all. If his life had depended on it, he would have said that Veronica had wanted him, too.<\/p>\n

Frowning, he decided to try going slow. He didn\u2019t want to lose her. He chuckled to himself; of course, that statement implied he had her to start with! He tethered Sport at the hitching rail and, screwing up his courage, walked to the porch, and knocked on the door.<\/p>\n

He turned away from the door to look out over the street. When he heard the door opening he turned back, expecting to see Mrs. Hawkins. Instead, little Wendy stood there.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright!\u201d she said, in surprise. He noted the pinched, drawn look to her face and the red eyes. Poor kid …<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Wendy,\u201d he smiled gently. \u201cIs your mother home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d she said quietly, opening the door wider. \u201cMama? Mr. Cartwright is here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Veronica came out of the kitchen area, wiping her hands. \u201cAdam!\u201d she said, startled. \u201cI didn\u2019t expect you … \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I had to come into town tonight for a school board meeting,\u201d he answered, shrugging a little in self-deprecation, \u201cand I was hoping to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA school board meeting?\u201d she asked, surprised. \u201cNot about … \u201d and glanced at Wendy, who blushed uncomfortably.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, nothing like that,\u201d he assured her, nervously fingering the brim of his hat. \u201cI\u2019m a member of the board, that\u2019s all. A regular meeting.\u201d He didn\u2019t mention, especially in front of Wendy, that this morning\u2019s discipline had been thoroughly discussed, however \u2013 much to his embarrassment.<\/p>\n

Veronica nodded and suddenly realized her daughter was there. Her expression grew stern, and her voice matched it. \u2018Young lady, you\u2019re supposed to be confined to your room, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sighing unhappily, Wendy turned to the stairs. \u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d She turned back briefly. \u201cCan I just ask how Pat is doing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would imagine pretty much the same as you, Wendy,\u201d said Adam, with a small smile. \u201cHe\u2019s confined to his room, too. And I must say, you\u2019re in a much more polite mood tonight than he was.\u201d<\/p>\n

She managed a small smile and continued up the stairs, wincing a little at the landing when the larger step required a longer upward step. Flushing, Wendy continued up, surreptitiously rubbing her backside as she climbed.<\/p>\n

The adults smiled sadly as they watched her go. Veronica turned back, her eyes questioning. \u201cWendy said Pat became sick this afternoon and had to go home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPat\u2019s got a bit of a nervous stomach anyway,\u201d nodded his father. \u201cI\u2019m not surprised. Poor kid, I had arranged for him to get a ride home stretched out on the buckboard with Joe, but when he got sick, Miss Masterson sent him home early. He ended up having to walk most of the way. Put him in a thoroughly bad mood. I don\u2019t blame him for being \u2026 well, for being Pat<\/em><\/strong>,\u201d he added ruefully, “but I really wish he\u2019d change his attitude. Thank God he\u2019s spending the week in his room. I\u2019d probably kill him otherwise.”<\/p>\n

Veronica nodded, though she felt for the boy.\u00a0 She and Wendy had gone a long way to repairing their own fences this afternoon when she\u2019d cuddled her daughter on her bed, allowing the girl to pour her heart out to her.\u00a0 While she didn\u2019t condone the girl\u2019s choices, she allowed Wendy to cry and begin to heal.\u00a0 Gently, Veronica then counseled her. Together, they had talked over ways that Wendy could make amends to the children she\u2019d hurt, and by the end of it Wendy was feeling better and on the way to learning from her mistakes and putting the past behind her.\u00a0 It didn\u2019t sound as though Adam had done the same for Patrick, however, and her mother\u2019s heart ached for him.<\/p>\n

Adam awkwardly shifted his feet as he stood in the foyer and finally drew in a deep breath. \u201cListen, if you\u2019re too uncomfortable with this \u2026 I just wanted to talk to you for a moment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, goodness, Adam, I\u2019m so sorry,\u201d she said, flustered, stepping back to allow him to enter. \u201cIt\u2019s just been such a difficult day …\u201d Blushing, she gestured him into the sitting room. \u201cMrs. Hawkins is visiting with the neighbors, so we have the room to ourselves.\u201d Her heart beat a little faster as she recalled what had happened the last time they\u2019d had the room \u2018to themselves!\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cVeronica, I\u2019d like to apologize for my behavior the other night,\u201d he said seriously. She started to protest but he cut her off. \u201cNo, I made you uncomfortable, and that was not my intention. The last thing I want to do is make you not wish to be around me. If you\u2019re willing to give me another chance,\u201d he said lightly, \u201cI\u2019d like to invite you out to a picnic on Thursday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA picnic? This time of year?\u201d she laughed, uncertainly, looking at him askance.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love it \u2026 it\u2019s something my stepmother introduced us to,\u201d he smiled. \u201cYou make a fire in the snow and cook hot food over it. It can be a lot of fun. Would you like to go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy Thursday?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam grinned. \u201cBecause I can play a little hooky on Thursday. I\u2019ll be negotiating a lumber contract with someone at the hotel that morning, and I thought I\u2019d treat myself to an afternoon off.\u201d<\/p>\n

Veronica looked up at him, losing herself in the gentleness of his dark eyes, the handsome face. \u201cAdam, I\u2026\u201d \u201c she began helplessly.<\/p>\n

Adam drew in a deep breath and looked at his hands. \u201cVeronica, I don\u2019t know what it was that upset you the other night,\u201d he said quietly, \u201cbut I promise to behave myself.\u201d He flushed a little and smiled wryly. \u201cJust a picnic. Honest.\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled at the sincerity in his voice. And she did find him so attractive, so amazingly attractive. \u201cAlright,\u201d she nodded. \u201cI\u2019d love it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked up at her and grinned happily. \u201cGreat! I\u2019ll pick you up around noon. Be sure to dress warmly.\u201d<\/p>\n

She walked him to the door. She hesitated a moment, then shook her head, lips curving up despite herself.\u00a0 \u201cAdam, I\u2019m really glad you stopped by. After today … well, I needed some cheering up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, me too,\u201d smiled Adam. \u201cUntil Thursday, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUntil Thursday,\u201d she nodded. He stopped and turned to her, searching her eyes. There was a welcome there, and he almost took advantage of it. He hesitated, then turned away abruptly, before he could lean down to kiss her as he really wanted to do.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat stood at his bureau, picking at his breakfast. He felt a bit better this morning but still found sitting down well nigh impossible. Riding to school sure oughta be fun,<\/em> he thought sourly. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and groaned. He\u2019d better hurry or he was going to be late. He finished his food and checked his clothes. Good, nothing spilled. Eating standing up was the awkwardest damn fool activity …<\/p>\n

He gathered his saddlebags and started down the stairs. Everyone else was at the table as he walked toward the coat racks.<\/p>\n

\u201cMorning,\u201d he muttered, knowing that he\u2019d get pulled up short if he didn\u2019t acknowledge them. If there was one thing his father demanded it was good manners and courtesy. In the six months he\u2019d been at the Ponderosa he\u2019d learned that one pretty quick.<\/p>\n

He was greeted in return by his family. He kept on walking toward the front door, grabbed his coat and started shrugging into it.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat exhaled noisily in exasperation and turned around, irritated, but silent. His father was standing there not five feet from him. Pat eyed him belligerently, but clamped his mouth shut.<\/p>\n

Adam studied his son, his eyes narrowing, and crossed his arms over his chest. This bad attitude is really beginning to wear thin\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

Stubbornly, Pat held eye contact. God knows he\u2019d heard enough exhortations of \u201cLook at me when I\u2019m talking to you!\u201d to know better than to look away. Not realizing that his look and stance were defiant rather than respectful, the boy waited, growing more irritable in the lengthening silence.<\/p>\n

Adam had been about to offer to drive Pat into town using the buckboard so that he wouldn\u2019t have to ride, but the man sighed inwardly. Definitely<\/em>, more guts than sense. All right, little boy.\u00a0 So be it.\u00a0 Perhaps a long ride into town on that sore backside of yours will get that lesson finally through your stubborn head.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a new day. Try to get off to a good start today, alright?\u201d said his father pointedly, eyeing his son. \u201cAdjust your attitude.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat rolled his eyes, shifting his feet. He struggled to keep his irritation under control and nodded curtly. \u201cYes, sir,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n

Adam continued to study him, then cleared his throat, eyebrow raised.<\/p>\n

Pat began to squirm a little. He knew what his father was looking for, and finally after about a thirty-second standoff, Pat sighed and relented a little. His stance grew less combative and the chip on his shoulder shrank a bit. \u201cYes, sir,\u201d he repeated more softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood boy. See you tonight,\u201d nodded Adam.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s brows knit together and his face grew red. At that condescending dismissal, Pat knew if he didn\u2019t turn and leave, and right now,<\/em> he\u2019d boil over like a pot of potatoes.\u00a0 He slapped his hat on his head and slipped on his gloves. He picked up his saddle bags and walked out, shutting the door behind himself carefully without a slam.<\/p>\n

As Adam slowly returned to the table, deep in thought, his father, now finished, carried his coffee cup toward the office.<\/p>\n

On his way by, Ben offered quietly, \u201cI think you\u2019re going to live to regret that little power play.\u201d<\/p>\n

Stung, Adam\u2019s head snapped up to see his father\u2019s eyebrow raised.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat tactic never worked too well on you<\/em>, anyway,\u201d Ben observed, and continued on his way to his desk.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The ride to town was every bit as painful as he\u2019d expected it to be. He tried yesterday\u2019s ploy of galloping as far as he could for as long as possible and managed nearly twenty minutes before his backside protested too much. Then Pat slowed Jack to a trot and stood in his stirrups for a while, until his legs grew too tired. He just had to sit.<\/p>\n

The uncomfortable smarting of the next five miles did absolutely nothing to improve his outlook. Finally, he couldn\u2019t stand it any longer and pulled Jack up, slipping down off the saddle, hissing in air and rubbing his tender hind end. In fury, he kicked at a good-sized stone in his path sending it spinning crazily into the distance, giving him the momentum to completely lose his temper.<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t goin!\u201d he shouted, beside himself, startling Black Jack into prancing a little. Frustrated, he bent down and picked up another rock and threw it as hard as he could at a nearby tree, taking satisfaction in hearing the mighty thunk!<\/em> of the stone connecting with the bark.<\/p>\n

He panted, a little shaken by his tantrum, but it felt good. No way am I going to go back to that school; not today, not ever!<\/em> He gathered Jack\u2019s reins and started walking. Now that he\u2019d made up his mind he just had to figure out how he was going to manage it.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d gone home sick the day before. Could he somehow spread a rumor that he was still ill? Not like yesterday;, Miss Masterson had known that was just nerves. And she knew that his father wouldn\u2019t let him ditch school just because of a sore tail, that was for sure. Not old Ironpants!<\/em><\/p>\n

He brought his mind to bear on the problem as he walked, toying with different scenarios, sorting out plans and ideas, obstacles and pitfalls. Finally a slow smile began to spread across his face. He glanced at the sun, guessing the time. He figured it he hurried he just might make it to the fork in the road where he always met Mike.<\/p>\n

He looked at the saddle in dismay.\u00a0 But brows furrowed, jaw set, he sprang into his saddle, stubbornly ignoring the discomfort, and kicked Jack into a gallop. In order to pull this off, he\u2019d need Mike\u2019s help, and he\u2019d need every available minute to convince him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cAre you outta your mind?!\u201d<\/p>\n

Micah stared at his friend in consternation. \u201cFor cryin\u2019 out loud, just yesterday you got the worst whippin\u2019 o\u2019 your life and you\u2019re ready to court another one already?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMike, listen, it ain\u2019t that serious, I\u2019m just\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, no it ain\u2019t that serious!\u201d mocked Mike, snorting in derision. \u201cYou\u2019re just asking me to lie for you, to stick my<\/em> neck out so\u2019s you can put your butt in a sling! And probably take mine along with you! I got news for you, Pat, my old man wields a mean switch and I got no intention o\u2019 lettin\u2019 him practice his swing on my<\/em> hind end!\u201d snapped Mike, marching back toward his horse. \u201cNothin\u2019 doin! It\u2019s against my religion to help somebody commit suicide!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMike, listen to me!\u201d argued Pat, dodging around the side of the shorter boy to intercept him. \u201cI ain\u2019t gonna have that much time left to see Corrigan before he leaves!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou keep up this bullshit and you ain\u2019t gonna have much time left, period!\u201d declared Mike. He tried appealing to his friend\u2019s common sense. \u201cPat, c\u2019mon! Think about what you\u2019re doin\u2019! Your father\u2019ll kill<\/em> you!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWouldn\u2019t surprise me!\u201d snapped back Patrick, his hands on his hips. \u201cAll I wanna do is talk to a man who knew my mother and my grandfather back in Ireland! But just because I pulled couple of stupid pranks my old man ain\u2019t gonna let me! He\u2019s gonna force me to watch this chance go by! How would you<\/em> feel, Mike? What if it was your Ma? Your Grandda? Ain\u2019t it my right to know who I come from?\u201d His tone turned beseeching.<\/p>\n

Mike uneasily kicked at the dirt in the road and then studied his friend, eyes narrowed. \u201cYou asked your pa and he said no?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMike, I\u2019m locked in my room from the time I finish chores until the next time they\u2019re due!\u201d he sighed, pushing his hat back on his head and scratching his ear. \u201cHow much time does that give me to see a man who knew my other<\/em> family? You think my old man wants me to even know<\/em> about my Irish family?\u201d Pat was digging himself in deep here, fostering accusations and assumptions that he wasn\u2019t truly sure he believed but was sure was the only route to take to get his way. And this time, by God, he was gonna<\/em> get his way!<\/p>\n

\u201cMy father wants me to forget everything about them! He wants me to forget I\u2019m Irish at all! Look at me!\u201d he said, throwing his arms out in desperation, mixing up the truth and his wild surmises even in his own mind. \u201cI look just like him! Everything about me screams \u2018Cartwright\u2019! Any way he can crush any memory of my Ma helps him forget that he wasn\u2019t around when she needed him! Helps him make believe that he ain\u2019t the father of a half-Orange, half-Irish bastard! Well, I ain\u2019t gonna forget! I ain\u2019t gonna make believe I\u2019m only half a person!\u201d As he\u2019d spoken, Pat was a little surprised to realize that what had started out as open manipulation \u2013 and he had the grace to be a bit ashamed of that \u2013 it had rapidly turned into him putting into words what he truly felt.\u00a0 This sense of feeling as though he was supposed to sublimate half of himself had been simmering since he\u2019d arrived in Nevada last August.\u00a0 He couldn\u2019t really put his finger on why or where it came from, but it was there, as real as could be.<\/p>\n

Helplessly, Pat came closer to his friend and tentatively put a hand to his shoulder. \u201cPlease, Mike,\u201d he begged softly, his eyes imploring. \u201cYou gotta help me. All I\u2019m askin\u2019 is for you to deliver this note, nothin\u2019 else!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mike uneasily studied his friend, then sighed. \u201cAw, Pat…\u201d he groaned, shaking his head.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s eyes gleamed as he pulled up the carefully forged letter. Since he\u2019d learned how to write from Adam to begin with, they formed their letters in a very similar way. And he\u2019d been practicing his penmanship very seriously these last two weeks \u2013 thanks to Wendy and her advice about being good students offering them more leeway.<\/p>\n

It was a simple little note, explaining that Patrick had come down this morning with what looked like the measles, just like the three hands on the Ponderosa. He was immensely careful of his spelling and kept the letter short \u00a0and to the point. It was a masterful job, if he did say so himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf she asks, just say someone from the Ponderosa passed it off to you,\u201d he said softly, keeping his eyes looking directly into his friends. \u201cI won\u2019t let you get into trouble, Mike, I promise. Please? Please<\/em> help me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGod skin me alive for a fool,\u201d snapped Mike, swinging into the saddle and snatching the letter from Patrick\u2019s hand. \u201cThis is it, Pat! No more, you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, Mike,\u201d he said tiredly, with a smile. \u201cThanks. I really appreciate it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Micah snorted and galloped off towards town. Pat sighed as he watched him go, then put his mind to figuring out how he was going to get into town, to the backroom of the Bucket of Blood, without being seen.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben and Hoss rode in silence to Virginia City, on their way in to place an ad in the Territorial Enterprise<\/em> to hire some men for the spring round-up, as well as to do some other errands around town.<\/p>\n

Ben glanced over at Hoss and was distressed to see his middle son\u2019s head drooped and despondent as they rode. Ben had noticed for the past day or so that Hoss had something on his mind. It wasn\u2019t like him to be so silent. And it troubled him to see Hoss so worried. His usually easy-going middle son was definitely not himself today. \u201cHoss? Something bothering you, son?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss raised his head and glanced at his father. \u201cWell, yeah, Pa, there is, and I ain\u2019t \u2018zactly sure how to go about straightenin\u2019 things out,\u201d he admitted quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I help?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dunno, but I sure would appreciate your ear … and your advice,\u201d said Hoss seriously.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, go ahead, son, shoot,\u201d nodded Ben, drawing Buck up closer to Chub and altering his gait to match that of the other horse.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Pa, it\u2019s about this Mr. Corrigan. I\u2019m a bit uneasy in my mind about him and what he\u2019s doin\u2019 here in Virginia City,\u201d said his son, seriously.<\/p>\n

\u201cI see,\u201d said Ben quietly. \u201cAny particular reason?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I learned he\u2019s already done fleeced poor little Tim O\u2019Brien outta five thousand dollars!\u201d worried Hoss. \u201cTim ain\u2019t got nuthin\u2019 to do with silver or gold bullion, Pa! That got me to figgerin\u2019, so I did some talkin\u2019 to the smaller miners down to Washoe Diggings who\u2019ve struck it good. He hit all the Irish ones, not the others, just the Irish ones with some scratch to spare! And got money outta every single one of \u2018em, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben cocked an eyebrow and Hoss noticed a small smile cross his father\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat you make of it, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, son, I\u2019m not entirely sure, but I would imagine that Mr. Corrigan is looking for something here more than just international currency,\u201d said Ben thoughtfully.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat should we do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben shrugged. \u201cAt this point, there really isn\u2019t a whole lot we can<\/em> do.\u00a0 We\u2019ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open and see what happens next, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss nodded unhappily.\u00a0 \u201cYessir,\u201d he sighed.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Once in town, Ben and Hoss split up to finish their errands, reuniting near the Mercantile. \u201cLast thing, Adam asked me to ask Father O\u2019Reilly about religious instruction while I\u2019m in town. \u00a0Want to go with me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYessir, Pa,\u201d nodded Hoss. \u201cSure is a pretty place. I\u2019d kinda like to meet this Father O\u2019Reilly, too. Adam sure was taken with his preachin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019m lookin\u2019 forward to meeting him as well, son,\u201d said Ben, thinking a bit.<\/p>\n

Hoss didn\u2019t miss the change in tone, and he turned to his father. Seeing the expression, he frowned. \u201cWhat you plannin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben looked at his middle boy innocently.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlanning? Who said I\u2019m planning anything?\u201d asked Ben, a small smile on his face.<\/p>\n

Hoss stared at him, smiling. \u201cPa, you\u2019re looking like a big, sly cat eyein\u2019 a bowl o\u2019 cream.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWatch the way you speak to your father, young man,\u201d grinned Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d chuckled Hoss. \u201cSeriously, though… what\u2019re you thinkin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt occurs to me that if Mr. Corrigan is talking to none but the Irish in this town for donations of cash, there might be one person in this town, with the ear of all the Irish, who might have some idea of what\u2019s going on.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss thought a moment, then turned to his father, a slow smile spreading over his face. \u201cFather O\u2019Reilly?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben nodded. \u201cFather O\u2019Reilly.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I must say, I\u2019m meetin\u2019 more Cartwrights in these past weeks than I expected to in a lifetime,\u201d smiled the old priest, waving them into the rectory. \u201cCome in gentlemen, come in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy oldest son, Adam, asked me to drop off this letter asking you about religious instruction for his son, Patrick\u201d said Ben, proffering the priest a sealed envelope. \u201cAdam was so taken by your sermon last week, he said he was pleased to have brought Patrick to Mass. I think you\u2019ll find them there regularly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s grand, it \u2018tis, Mr. Cartwright, just grand!\u201d smiled O\u2019Reilly. He accepted the letter from Ben and opened it as he walked to his large desk in the rectory, drawing out some notepaper. \u201cWould you like to be waitin\u2019 just a few moment while I jot down a quick reply for him?\u201d The man\u2019s eyes scanned the page, nodding as he read. He looked up and offered them a sunny smile. \u201cT\u2018won\u2019t take me but a moment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, if that\u2019s not inconvenient,\u201d smiled Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a\u2019tall not a\u2019tall,\u201d assured O\u2019Reilly.<\/p>\n

Hoss glanced around the rectory, looking at the many religious statues, the crucifix hanging on the wall. It seemed rather strange to him. He uncomfortably remembered the bible\u2019s teachings, \u201cThough shalt not worship graven images …\u201d<\/em>\u00a0 Although he\u2019d known that Marie, his stepmother, had been Catholic, there hadn\u2019t been a lot of Catholic trappings in the Cartwright house. He knew Marie had a rosary, he\u2019d seen her saying her prayers once in awhile, late at night, if he woke with a bad dream and went to her for comfort. And Sundays, Marie always retreated to her room for a long time, saying her Sunday prayers. Pa had built her a padded kneeler for her prayers. He couldn\u2019t see nothin\u2019 awful about Marie and the way she loved God. Hoss had trouble with that kind of bigotry, anyway. God don\u2019t care how you love him, \u00a0a<\/em>s long as you follow his teachin\u2019s and treat your neighbor as you would yourself.<\/em><\/p>\n

Ben was thinking through how he would approach his questions to Father O\u2019Reilly, when he was startled from his reverie by the old priest\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what was it you were wantin\u2019 to ask, Mr. Cartwright?\u201d asked the man, still with his back to Ben, an amused tone to his voice. Ben shifted uneasily in his chair and O\u2019Reilly turned around to face him, his totally Irish countenance alight with mirth. \u201cI could feel yer eyes burnin\u2019 into me back, Mr. Cartwright. Is there something ye needed to ask?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben smiled sheepishly. \u201cWell, to be honest, there is, but I\u2019m not exactly sure how to approach this,\u201d he said, scratching his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom the beginning, sor,\u201d assured O\u2019Reilly, placing his letter into an envelope, briefly addressing it and handing it to Ben, then settling back in his chair to listen. \u201c \u2018Tis usually the best place to start.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben nodded. \u201cFather, are you aware of a certain individual in town who might be … . Who might be trying to raise money from your congregation?\u201d<\/p>\n

Father O\u2019Reilly chuckled and leaned back, relaxed. \u201cSuch a diplomat, Mr. Cartwright!\u201d He sighed and nodded. \u201c \u2018Tis Eamon Corrigan ye\u2019re referring to, I take it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss\u2019 eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced at his father. Dadburn it if Pa weren\u2019t right!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Father, Eamon Corrigan,\u201d said Ben seriously.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo I know he\u2019s in town? Aye, obviously. Do I know why he\u2019s here?\u201d Father O\u2019Reilly cocked an eyebrow. \u201cWell, let\u2019s just say I\u2019ve me suspicions.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFather, I\u2019m going to speak plain,\u201d said Ben, quietly, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his legs. \u201cMr. Corrigan has touted himself as a businessman seeking investment opportunities from the wealthy mine owners in the Washoe and the Comstock Lode. My son, Hoss, was on a business trip in San Francisco a few weeks back and met him there. Hoss was asked to introduce him to several of those mine owners. In and of itself, that\u2019s not a problem. However, he presented himself as representing a business in Ireland. If that were the case, I\u2019d like to know why he\u2019s seeking charitable donations from several of the smaller mine owners, men like Tim O\u2019Brien, Jerry Flanagan\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cDaniel O\u2019Leary, Dermot Callahan, Tim Boyce,\u201d continued O\u2019Reilly, eyeing Ben. Hoss started, but Ben held the old priest\u2019s gaze and nodded. O\u2019Reilly pursed his lips and \u00a0tapped his fingers on the arms of his chair. \u201cEamon Corrigan does represent a faction in Ireland, Mr. Cartwright, but I\u2019d be mightily surprised if they had any business dealings beyond … erm\u2026importing<\/em>,\u201d he said dryly.<\/p>\n

\u201cImporting?\u201d repeated Hoss, confused, though Ben\u2019s face grew grim.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me, gentlemen, have ye ever heard of the United Irishman?\u201d asked O\u2019Reilly abruptly. \u201cOr the Fenian Brotherhood?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Fenians, yes,\u201d nodded Ben, seriously, remembering the story of Patrick\u2019s arrival last August. The only reason Adam had ever found out about his young son was due to the child\u2019s mother\u2019s death during a Fenian uprising in New York\u2019s Hell\u2019s Kitchen. \u201cA faction of Irish Catholics struggling to fight the cause of a united Ireland, isn\u2019t that right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA simplistic definition, but relatively factual,\u201d nodded O\u2019Reilly. \u201cThe United Irishmen were founded back in the 1790s, a faction of Irish nationalists who wanted, through peaceful means, mind, to remove the oppression of the English tyrants in our country … present company excepted, gentlemen,\u201d smiled O\u2019Reilly.<\/p>\n

Ben smiled wanly.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Fenian Brotherhood is an offshoot of the United Irishmen, that original group of Irish patriots. In 1867, the Fenians were brutally crushed in Ireland. The Crown had hoped that the movement was all but destroyed. They didn\u2019t reckon on the number of Fenians who had emigrated here to this country during the Great Hunger. This country\u2019s revolutionary philosophy had helped to spark the United Brotherhood in the very beginning. It stands to reason, don\u2019t ye know, that Fenians here would find the perfect catalyst to grow and become strong again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what does that have to do with Corrigan?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEamon Corrigan came from County Armagh, as did I,\u201d nodded O\u2019Reilly. His eyes grew faraway as he gazed at the fire crackling in the hearth, continuing to speak. \u201cHe was from a tiny village called Ballylynch \u2026 in the North.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss and Ben stared as they heard again the name of the town young Patrick\u2019s Irish mother, Siobhan, had come from. Hoss surreptitiously glanced at his father, but Ben was hanging on every word of the Irish priest.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll his life, he\u2019d been an insurrectionist, most often with another lad named Padhraic Riordan. Ah, now there was a lad!\u201d smiled O\u2019Reilly sadly, shaking his head at his memories. \u201cA big, handsome lad… and a God-fearin\u2019 man was Paddy, with a fine wife, Maggie Leary she was, three fine strappin\u2019 sons and a lovely lass of a daughter.\u201d The old priest sighed at that point. \u201cPaddy and Eamon were the source of much of the unrest in that part of Armagh for better than thirty years, between \u2018em. Eamon was the hot-headed one; Paddy sought change through lawful channels and through peace, if he could get it. I suppose the painful irony of it all is that Paddy was the one who suffered the most at the hands of the Orangemen. Armed conflict they could understand and crush; intelligent, thought-out argument for freedom rankled them. In the end, \u2018twas Paddy that was hanged for insurrection, and his sons with \u2018im. Rioting had followed a peaceful attempt to vote in the elections, rioting that Paddy and his lads had nothin\u2019 to do with. Eamon\u2019s only bairn, his son Sean, was also on the hangin\u2019 tree that day.\u201d O\u2019Reilly fixed his eyes on Cartwright. As a father of sons, he felt sure the man would understand a bit.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom that point on, the cause of Ireland became everything to Eamon. His job in the Brotherhood \u2013 or at least it was<\/em> – was to find money to buy guns \u2026 to import,\u201d he said softly, with a wry smile at Hoss. \u201cSo, I suppose, aye, you could say he was a \u2018businessman.\u2019 \u201d His dry tone and cold eyes carried more weight than any words he could have spoken.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou seem to know this Corrigan well,\u201d said Ben, sensing there was more to the story.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, I ought to,\u201d replied O\u2019Reilly, his eyebrow cocked. \u201cUntil the hangin\u2019 o\u2019 Paddy Riordan, I meself was one of their number, an insurrectionist under cover of the cloth. After that\u2026\u201d he shrugged. \u201cThe fight went out o\u2019 me. I imagine the good Lord in heaven was doin\u2019 whatever he could to bring me back to the fold. I would say, lads, from the fleecin\u2019 bein\u2019 done here in Virginia City and Washoe Diggin\u2019s, Mr. Eamon Corrigan has hit his own bonanza.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben frowned and nodded his head. \u201cI would tend to agree, Father. I\u2019d tend to agree.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Today, Corrigan\u2019s backroom had relaxed from its Fenian doings and the men were engaged in a poker game. Corrigan had been surprised, but pleased, when Patrick showed up knocking at the door that morning around ten. Pat had hidden on the outskirts of town until then, slipping into the saloon district unseen by darting through empty buildings and alleyways, after begging Lafe at the livery to look out for Jack for the day.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, lad,\u201d Corrigan had smiled, offering Patrick a cup of coffee as the boy lounged against an easy chair, not sitting but leaning, \u201caren\u2019t ye supposed to be in school?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSchool be damned,\u201d snorted Pat, accepting the cup.\u00a0 \u201cI ain\u2019t goin\u2019 back, not after yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPoor lad,\u201d commiserated Corrigan, hiding the grin that played at his lips. \u201cIt\u2019s sorry I am ye had to experience that.\u201d He eyed the boy and tested the waters. \u201cWas yer sainted father sympathetic, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat grunted and straightened up, resting the cup and saucer on a nearby table.<\/p>\n

\u201cSympathetic! He dragged me there, then stood and watched,\u201d Pat muttered bitterly. \u201cNever raised a hand to stop it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan clucked his tongue, while the other men in the room stifled chuckles. \u201cA shame, that. But, \u2018tis always the way with the Orangeman.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan had heard about Patrick\u2019s beating the day before and decided to play on it, mentioned beatings of his own at the hands of Orangemen back in Ireland, painting his own crimes to be as inconsequential as the \u2018few little harmless pranks\u2019 Pat had played.<\/p>\n

Pat frowned a little as his conscience pricked at him, reminding him uncomfortably that he\u2019d dug his own grave for that little episode yesterday, but tamped it down. I’ll never let anybody beat my <\/strong>child like that! Never, no matter what.<\/em><\/p>\n

And in his current state of unhappiness, Pat latched onto the perceived injustice of it all and allowed his mind to put his adolescent naughtiness up on a pedestal as a blow against English tyranny … John MacDonald was a Scot, after all, and that was the next best thing to an Englishman, wasn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n

Corrigan said no more but was pleased to note the boy\u2019s stubbornness taking over. Yes, there were definitely possibilities there. He had only a few days to work it, but he\u2019d give it his best.<\/p>\n

Over the last few days, Corrigan had made some quiet inquiries and knew that the Cartwrights often kept vast amounts of money in their safe at this time of year as they readied for the purchases necessary to make their spring cattle round-up … payrolls, money for supplies, money to buy breeding stock. It should all be there in the safe at the ranch house, and Corrigan was determined that before he left Virginia City he\u2019d have figured a way to convince Patrick to get that money to him. But first, he needed to determine if what he\u2019d heard was indeed true.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

As the day wore on, Corrigan deftly turned the conversation to the spring in this area and asked Pat innocently what the immediate future held for the Ponderosa.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, with the big cattle drive comin\u2019 up, not much else,\u201d replied Pat, sipping a beer Corrigan had ordered for him. \u201cIt takes weeks to get ready for this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA cattle drive, is it,\u201d commented Corrigan, eyeing the boy with feigned interest. \u201cAnd what is needed to prepare for it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLots of things,\u201d answered Pat.\u00a0 After leaning against various pieces of furniture, he finally tried easing himself gingerly down onto an overstuffed chair. The boy fidgeted uncomfortably. He tried to appear indifferent as he waited to grow accustomed to the smarting. \u201cMy grandfather and one of my uncles placed an advertisement in the newspaper today for drovers.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDrovers?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d nodded Pat, slipping into the Irish vernacular pervading the room, \u201cmen to help drive the cattle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, I see.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen there\u2019s supplies for the chuck wagon to get laid in, getting all the gear checked out to make sure nothing\u2019s broken that they might need.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, it sounds grand, it does. Will ye be going, lad?\u201d smiled Corrigan. He figured not; he imagined Adam Cartwright would insist on his son staying put in school instead.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you daft?\u201d Pat sighed. \u201cMy father won\u2019t let me, says I gotta stay in school. But, since I ain\u2019t ever goin\u2019 back…\u201d Pat frowned, pondering that one. He uneasily noted his stomach starting to ache again and resolutely put the thought out of his mind; he\u2019d deal with that later, when he had to.<\/p>\n

\u201cMust be an expensive proposition, gettin\u2019 ready for this … cattle drive,\u201d observed Corrigan with interest, sipping his whiskey.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. Uncle Hoss says it takes about five thousand dollars to cover everything. Granddad\u2019s had the money in the bank all winter, but now it\u2019s in the safe so it\u2019s there when he needs it for pay outs,\u201d chattered Pat blindly, his tongue loosened a bit by the beer and the headiness of feeling actually listened to. He was nowhere near drunk, but he was a little more open with his talk than usual.<\/p>\n

Corrigan nodded sagely and smiled to himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat an amazing thing, to have all the money in the world,\u201d mused Corrigan.<\/p>\n

Pat glanced back at the Irishman, cocking an eyebrow. \u201cWhaddya mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLord love ye, lad, think about what that money could do for the Fenian Movement,\u201d Corrigan sighed, leaning back in his chair, and sipping his drink.<\/p>\n

Pat did think and remembered the comment his father had made at breakfast the other morning.\u00a0 \u201cAre you using the money you get for guns and such, Mr. Corrigan? To ship back to the old country?\u201d he asked quietly, studying the older man.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what else would ye spawn a revolution with, lad? Pen and ink?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat managed a crooked smile. \u201cThe Americans did. It was called the Declaration of Independence.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan chuckled and nodded. \u201cAye, that they did. But they backed it up with eight bloody years of war, lad. T\u2019wasn\u2019t a clean little insurrection, that. Tossing some British tea into Boston Harbor certainly wasn\u2019t the extent of their rebellion, as ye well know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir. It wasn\u2019t,\u201d he replied, leaning his head back tiredly. Five thousand dollars. That\u2019s what Granddad had in his safe. He had a pretty good idea how much ammunition, how many guns and explosives five thousand dollars could buy. Not to mention medical supplies \u2026 food for the starving \u2026 support for the widows. Pat shook his head and sighed. Why couldn\u2019t his grandfather and his old man understand?<\/p>\n

Corrigan glanced at the boy and decided to plant a little nugget for him to gnaw on. \u201cAye lad. All the money in the world.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a lot of money in the ranch, that\u2019s for sure, Mr. Corrigan,\u201d replied Pat quietly, sipping his beer, \u201cbut it\u2019s mostly on paper. Y\u2019know, holdings, cattle, stuff like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd easily replaceable, then.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat stared at the man, trying to figure where Corrigan was going with this line of discussion. \u201cWhy would they need to replace it?\u201d he asked, curiously.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d said Corrigan, waving a hand, \u201cyou know as well as I, lad, that if that money disappeared, yer grandda could easily replace it with very little difficulty through his other investments. Isn\u2019t that true, now?\u201d He shrugged and studied his whiskey glass, swirling the amber liquid within it and gazing into its depths<\/p>\n

Pat stared at him, not liking the uncomfortable feeling that was rising in his belly.\u00a0 He sat forward in his chair, ignoring the smarting, resolute as he eyed the older man coldly. \u201cWhat exactly are you implyin\u2019?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n

At the change in tone, Corrigan slowly looked up from his glass and turned a pair of sharp, intense blue eyes onto the youngster.\u00a0 The old Fenian\u2019s gaze was just as cold as Pat\u2019s. \u201cNot a thing, lad. Simply that on Ben Cartwright\u2019s ranch, five thousand dollars would mean a pinched season. For we Irish, that same five thousand would mean the difference between life and death for hundreds of thousands of men, women and children. That, sor, is all I meant.\u201d Corrigan brought a stubby finger up to point sternly at Patrick\u2019s nose. \u201cSo don\u2019t be puttin\u2019 any words in me mouth, ye wee am\u00e1dan, understood?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick flushed a little, but accepted the rebuke, respectfully holding the Fenian\u2019s gaze as he\u2019d been taught to do. Corrigan was clearly waiting for a response, so he silently nodded, dropping his gaze for a moment.<\/p>\n

The older man softened and reached out to pat the youngster\u2019s knee. \u201cDon\u2019t become too complacent in yer newfound wealth, lad,\u201d he said gently, tipping the boy\u2019s chin up to force eye contact. \u201cNever forget the poverty you knew as a bairn. It\u2019ll keep you from taking poverty, hunger and deprivation for granted. If ye never forget what ye went through, ye\u2019ll never allow others to suffer it if ye can help it. Will ye promise me that, Padhraic?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d Pat said softly, taking the lesson to heart.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood lad,\u201d nodded Corrigan, smiling and tousling the boy\u2019s black hair. He rose to his feet and left Patrick there to think a bit as he walked over to the bar to chat with Michael.<\/p>\n

The boy hung around for several hours, playing poker, listening as reports and plans were made. At three o\u2019clock, he made his apologies and departed, knowing he had one more thing to do to stitch up this little tapestry of lies he needed to last out the week.<\/p>\n

He sped through the alleys and back ways until he got to the yard behind Mrs. Hawkins\u2019 boarding house. He\u2019d heard that Wendy was confined to her room, too. He just hoped he\u2019d be able to get her attention.<\/p>\n

He glanced at the various windows of the house and wondered which one could possibly be Wendy\u2019s room. He noted the big oak tree whose sturdy branches reached up to the second floor and made his decision. He tossed his hat to the ground behind the tree to keep it from getting tangled in the branches and started to climb.<\/p>\n

Saints be praised!<\/em> he crowed to himself as he peeped into the first room and saw Wendy stretched out on her stomach on her bed, doing nothing but staring disconsolately at her pillow. He looked around him, cursing that he hadn\u2019t thought of picking up a couple of pebbles beforehand. He noted a few acorns still clinging to a branch and grinned. He leaned back to snatch them and flinched as his backside connected with the hard tree trunk.<\/p>\n

\u201cOw!\u201d he yelped, involuntarily. Wendy picked up her head in surprise, and glanced out the window, staring in shock at the image of Pat Cartwright\u2019s face screwed up in discomfort as he vigorously rubbed the seat of his pants with one hand and hung onto a branch with the other. She grinned, shaking her head, and pushed herself up to go to the window.<\/p>\n

She pulled up the sash and he raised his head, still wincing. \u201cWhat in heaven\u2019s name are you doing up there?\u201d she asked, grinning and leaning on the windowsill.<\/p>\n

\u201cLookin\u2019 for you,\u201d he said, composing his face. He grinned at her. \u201cHow you doin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMuch the same as you,\u201d she said dryly, looking at his hand still clapped to his rump. Hastily, he moved the hand and positioned it to more firmly secure his hold on the branch.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought you had the measles?\u201d she asked, smiling impishly.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I come to talk to ya about,\u201d he said earnestly. \u201cI need ya to cover for me with yer ma.\u201d<\/p>\n

She raised an eyebrow. \u201cOh, you do, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I do,\u201d he said seriously. \u201cWendy, please, if she asks – \u00a0and only<\/em> if she asks – tell her I was in school, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, did you already fall out of that tree and bang your head or something?\u201d she asked derisively. \u201cOr don\u2019t you remember what happened yesterday?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBelieve me, I ain\u2019t forgotten,\u201d he replied dryly. \u201cBut I only need a few days-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, you\u2019re crazy. Isn\u2019t your father already mad enough at you?!\u201d \u00a0She leaned forward. \u201cWhat are<\/em> you playing hooky for, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m seeing that fella, Corrigan, I told ya about. He\u2019s gonna be leavin\u2019 this weekend so it won\u2019t be for long, just this week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPat,\u201d she sighed, shaking her head, her expression uneasy. \u201cI don\u2019t want to get into any more trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon, Wendy,\u201d he begged. \u201cI\u2019d do it for you!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well you\u2019ve<\/em> got a death wish!\u201d she said, the beginnings of a grin forming on her mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have to say anything unless she asks, Wendy,\u201d he wheedled. \u201cPlease?\u201d<\/p>\n

Wendy considered. He sure is handsome,<\/em> she thought to herself, even hanging in that tree looking so \u2026 so \u2026 adorable! <\/em>She shifted uneasily. \u201cAll right, but only for a few days.\u201d<\/p>\n

He shot her a dazzling grin and blew her a kiss. \u201cThanks!\u201d he crowed. He looked below him. \u201cI\u2019d better be getting going, or they\u2019ll be onto me at home.\u201d He started his descent, then hesitated and looked back up at her, his expression very serious. \u201cWendy \u2026 I\u2019m really sorry you got punished too, honest I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, well,\u201d she sighed, with a naughty grin. \u201cIt was fun while it lasted!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat chuckled, winked at her and continued on down the tree.<\/p>\n

Wendy watched him go, taking in his long, lean legs, his tousled black hair, and watched as his strong arms propelled him through the tree at breakneck speed. She really liked him a lot. She began to wonder what the future would hold if her mother and his father continued to court each other. Mama sure like Adam Cartwright. She shuddered a little, though, as she thought of how formidable a stepfather he might be. She sighed, though, as she realized that could never happen, not with –<\/p>\n

\u201cWendy!\u201d<\/p>\n

She jumped, smacked the back of her head on the window sash and yelped. She pulled her head in and turned guiltily toward the door. Her mother stood there with a frown on her face.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Mama?\u201d she faltered, her hands behind her back.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust getting some fresh air, Mama. It\u2019s so stuffy in here,\u201d she sighed, coloring with confusion.<\/p>\n

Veronica studied her daughter, and set her lips, walking resolutely to the window. Wendy forced herself to remain calm. Veronica peered out the window, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, then looked back at her daughter suspiciously.<\/p>\n

But Wendy looked innocent, if a little flustered. Maybe she was<\/em> just feeling cooped up.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, the air is cold in here, dear,\u201d said Veronica finally. \u201cSuppose you shut the window now, all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Ma\u2019am,\u201d nodded Wendy, doing as she was told as her mother left the room and closed the door.<\/p>\n

Once the door was shut, Wendy whirled and looked out the window worriedly. She sighed in relief as Pat peeped up from around the side of the tree. With a wicked grin on his face, he scooped up his hat and waved it at her, then sped off across the yard to the neighbors.<\/p>\n

Wendy shook her head and grinned as she watched him go.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER TWELVE<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick stood at the edge of Jack’s stall and leaned on his pitchfork, lost in thought. He’d been working very hard all afternoon, conscious of his father poking his nose in every time he turned around, checking up on him. This was the first time all afternoon he’d felt like someone wasn’t looking over his shoulder.<\/p>\n

Sighing, he shook himself a little and began to muck out the stall, his movements mechanical, his face serious and quiet. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him.<\/p>\n

“Hi, Pat.”<\/p>\n

Patrick jumped, whirling, pitchfork ready. Joe leaped back, eyes wide in shock, tripping over himself and landing hard on his backside on the barn floor.<\/p>\n

“Judas Priest!” Pat wheezed, wiping a sleeve across his forehead and leaning on the pitchfork while he got his heart out of his throat and back into his chest. Grinning sheepishly, he shook his head and leaned toward his uncle, a hand outstretched. “Ya might want to let somebody know when ya walk up behind ’em like that.”<\/p>\n

Joe, wincing, accepted the hand and allowed Pat to pull him up. “Well, I’m so sorry if I surprised you,” he said dryly, dusting off the seat of his pants.<\/p>\n

Pat managed a small smile, then sighed and went back to work. Joe watched his nephew as he slipped his gloves on, climbing up into the hay loft to fork down some feed for the animals.<\/p>\n

“Hey, Pat?” he asked quietly after the two worked silently for a few minutes.<\/p>\n

“Yeah?”<\/p>\n

“Look\u2026I know how you feel, believe me,” said Joe quietly, tossing some hay down into the wheelbarrow. “I just wanted you to know\u2026well, if you wanted to talk about anything, I’m a pretty good listener.”<\/p>\n

Pat smiled to himself. “Uncle Joe, I appreciate it, but \u2026 ” he sighed and shook his head.<\/p>\n

“You’re not the first member of this household to get himself into trouble, you know.”<\/p>\n

Pat sighed, resting his weight on the pitchfork again. “Oh, I dunno\u2026 I don’t guess anybody’s as gifted at it as I seem to be,” he said glumly.<\/p>\n

Joe grinned to himself. “It runs in the family,” he assured the youngster, steering the wheelbarrow over to the stalls and heaping hay into the troughs.<\/p>\n

Pat looked over his shoulder at him, an eyebrow cocked. “Whaddya mean?”<\/p>\n

Joe chuckled, leaning comfortably against the stall wall. “Well, let’s see\u2026 there was the time I got into a mess of trouble for stealing something from the mercantile and setting a livery stable on fire\u2026”<\/p>\n

Pat swung around in shock and stared at his uncle. “Yer kiddin’!”<\/p>\n

“Nope,” sighed Joe. “Wish I was. Well, the fire was<\/em> an accident. That was one heck of a long summer,” he said ruefully. “Then there was the time I ended up in an opium den in San Francisco. I was only seven. Y’know, to this day I don’t think Pa knows about that one. Adam managed to talk us around it with Pa, as usual. And it was around that same time your Uncle Hoss got himself in really hot water for busting up the traplines of some trappers. Boy, Pa was sure furious about that one!”<\/p>\n

Pat gaped at his uncle and shook himself, in wonder. “I can’t believe it,” he said, a small smile tipping the edges of his mouth. “Uncle Hoss?” Pat sighed and picked up his pitchfork again. He had noted the absence of a mention of his father’s wrongdoings, though. Just as he thought. No blemish on his father’s record, that was for sure.<\/em><\/p>\n

“Yeah, we’ve all been in pretty bad trouble at one point or another,” Joe continued, measuring out oats for each of the animals. “We all felt like there was no way out of it, and that Pa would never forgive us. He always did, though.”<\/p>\n

“At least two of you,” grunted Pat, stretching his back muscles, tired now from bending over to fork the soiled straw into a pile.<\/p>\n

Joe looked up at the youngster as he leaned over to fill Sport’s feedbag and grinned. “What, you think your father was some little angel or somethin’?”<\/p>\n

Flushing a little, Pat shrugged, and looked down, dusting his hands off on the seat of his pants, and winced a little\u2026he\u2019d forgotten how sore he still was.<\/p>\n

“Well, let me be the first to tell ya, that couldn’t be further from the truth,” chuckled Joe. “Ask him sometime about\u2026 nah, don’t ask him, he probably wouldn’t tell ya. Ask your grandfather about the time he caught Adam sneaking out in the middle of the night to go hunting with a Paiute chief’s son. From what I hear, he sneaked back into his room and nearly jumped out of his skin when Pa was sitting there in a chair waiting for him!”<\/p>\n

Pat looked at his uncle, skeptically. Then he remembered a night in October when his father had done the very same thing when Pat had been sneaking out, late at night.[1]<\/a><\/p>\n

Joe smirked. ” And the time he tied some pain-in-the-neck girl’s braids to the back of her desk so that she darn near pulled her hair out of her head when she moved. The summer he was about your age and Jake caught him drinkin\u2019 whiskey with the Bonner Brothers at a church picnic.\u00a0 Then there was the time he accidentally stampeded the herd with some firecrackers\u2026took about six days to round \u2018em all up, and, from what Hoss told me, almost that long for him to be able to sit down comfortable again after Pa was through with him.”<\/p>\n

Pat laughed out loud at that one. “I don’ believe it!” he snorted.<\/p>\n

“Believe it!” assured his uncle, grinning as he perched on the edge of a stool. “Trust me, kid. We’ve all been there,” he said gently. “It’ll blow over, honest. Just give yourself a little time.”<\/p>\n

Pat soberly leaned against the wall beside his uncle, heaving a huge sigh that made it clear he felt the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. “It’s just that\u2026 well, he don’t understand me, Uncle Joe,” said the boy softly. “He can’t understand. He ain’t Irish. I know he loved my ma; really, I do. But lovin’ somebody don’t mean that you understand \u2018em. I still don’t think he really sees why she couldn’t marry him. They were just too different.”<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s brow furrowed; he wanted to be sure he said the right things. He tried hard to remember the conversations like this he’d had with Hoss or Adam, complaining that Pa didn’t understand. “Pat, are you sure it\u2019s that he doesn’t understand? Or could it be that he just doesn’t agree with you?”<\/p>\n

Pat looked at Joe, puzzled. \u201cWhaddya mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe sighed, frowning as he tried to gather his thoughts. Noting a good-sized, sock bag of feed to his right, he grinned, heaved it up and placed it beside him, patting it as he glanced at Patrick, an eyebrow raised.<\/p>\n

Sighing, Pat slowly eased his butt down. His face registered some surprise as he noted it really wasn\u2019t too bad, and glanced at his uncle, whose knowing wink told him he\u2019d been in his boots – or, rather, his pants – before, too.<\/p>\n

The two youngest Cartwrights each leaned forward, hands clasped and forearms resting on their knees as they talked. It was a strange feeling for Joe; he’d never been in the role of ‘big brother’ before. The anxiety to say the right thing, offer the best possible advice, was sobering. Now he had a little bit of an idea of how Adam used to feel, when he or Hoss went to him with their troubles. This was hard!<\/em><\/p>\n

“Understanding how you feel and agreeing with you are two different things,” said Joe seriously. “I think your father understands more than you give him credit for. He cares a lot, Pat. He just doesn’t want you to get into trouble, and he doesn’t want you to get hurt. But he knows you’re going through a rough time, and that you’re feeling kinda torn between Ireland and Nevada.”<\/p>\n

Pat shook his head and leaned back. “Uncle Joe, he doesn’t understand me<\/em>. I mean, think about it,” he said wearily. “Passionate and fiery ain’t words I’d use to describe your brother. Would you?”<\/p>\n

Joe grinned. “Well, at one time, yeah, I would. You didn’t know him at twenty-two or twenty-three.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat cocked an eyebrow and snorted in derision.<\/p>\n

Joe grew seriously thoughtful. “I can remember when the War Between the States was getting underway, and Adam was hinting that he wanted to go join up with the Union army,” he said quietly. “Pa went up one side of him and down the other, insisting it wasn’t our fight out here in the territory. He had just got back from college and was really tryin’ to figure out whether he wanted to be here or back east. You should have heard him, arguing that freedom for all should be everyone’s business.” The words were out before he could stop them, and Joe winced a little. The dark humorless chuckle that emanated from his nephew told him he’d said exactly the wrong thing.<\/p>\n

“So\u2026 his feelings for people held in slavery only surface when it’s convenient for him,” grunted Pat, his hands clenching into fists as he stared at the ground.<\/p>\n

” Pat, c’mon,” said Joe, uneasily, realizing he’d probably hurt rather than helped, “that’s not really fair, is it?”<\/p>\n

“Life ain’t fair!” growled Pat, his blue eyes like hot flame as they pinned his uncle to the wall. Joe was startled at their intensity. “Ain’t that what he’s always tryin\u2019 to \u2018knock into my thick head’?\u201d Pat pushed himself to his feet. “I got work to do,” he muttered as he stalked out of the barn.<\/p>\n

Joe helplessly watched him go, then slammed a palm against the barn wall in frustration.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick lounged in the Bucket of Blood\u2019s back room, with his boots propped up on a low table, sipping a beer, two things forbidden to him at home. Fenian activities were winding down here with knowledge that Eamon Corrigan would be leaving within a day or so. Many of the Irishmen had gone back to their regular jobs or tasks, leaving Corrigan, Michael and Pat pretty much alone for the day. Pat had played hooky for three days, now, and he was beginning to get nervous about what would happen when the truth came out.<\/p>\n

His worries made him quieter than usual. There were no grand tales of rebellion for him to which he could attach his frustrated energy, no poker games to distract him.\u00a0 No rebel songs to sing, to bring back the memory of Hell\u2019s Kitchen, and of his mother.\u00a0 And that quiet created a prison of his own mind, trying to work out how in the world he would move forward, and in what direction now.<\/p>\n

Corrigan noticed.\u00a0 He stopped chatting with the one remaining Irish visitor, one of the smaller miners, and instead walked up beside the boy.\u00a0 He gave a quick gesture with his chin toward the door, silently directing the miner to go in order to allow him and the boy to have the place to themselves. With a grin, the other man nodded and left the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cYe seem a bit under the weather today, Padhraic,\u201d observed Corrigan. In the last few days, he\u2019d taken to using the Gaelic pronunciation of Pat\u2019s name and taught him how to spell it.<\/p>\n

\u201cNah…just thinkin\u2019,\u201d sighed Pat, his brow furrowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomething troublin\u2019 you, lad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy old man,\u201d he nodded, scratching his head. \u201cI don\u2019t guess I\u2019ll be able to hide my playin\u2019 hooky from him much longer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, I see,\u201d nodded Corrigan, smiling at the youngster despite himself. In the last three days, Corrigan had found himself growing especially fond of this boy.\u00a0 Bright, spirited, funny, the boy put a fresh perspective on everything Eamon said or did. As he grew to know the lad, he also began to see much of Paddy Riordan in him, and he found himself moving from exclusively wanting to use the boy for his family connections to becoming quite attached.<\/p>\n

Pat had his Irish grandfather\u2019s sharp wit, and his mother\u2019s cutting tongue. He was as bright as a new penny and – also like Paddy – was observant as the devil, missing nothing<\/em>. Corrigan appreciated meeting a fellow con artist, though the lad had a long way to go yet. This fondness, this sentimentality, disconcerted Corrigan to a certain degree, more than he cared to admit. \u201cA bit nervous, wondering about what yer da is going to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWondering?\u201d snorted Pat, dryly. \u201cI ain\u2019t wondering\u2026 I know exactly what he\u2019ll do, that\u2019s what\u2019s worryin\u2019 me.\u201d He got to his feet, sighing, and walked toward the bar, setting his beer down. \u00a0The alcohol was bothering his stomach.\u00a0 He wanted a glass of water, not any more beer; it just wasn\u2019t setting right..<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Corrigan?\u201d<\/p>\n

Eamon turned at the pensive tone and saw the boy leaning against the bar, staring into the mug of beer in front of him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, lad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was my grandfather really like?\u201d the boy asked softly.<\/p>\n

Startled, Eamon leaned back. \u201cPaddy?\u201d He closed his eyes and shook his head. \u201cPaddy Riordan was an amazin\u2019 man, lad. Big man, more than six feet tall. Black hair, he had, that looked blue or even purple in some lights, somewhat like yours, and those Riordan blue eyes.\u00a0 Strong as a bull, he was, but gentle. And his heart was just as big as he was, lad. I\u2019ll swear he could hold all the country in that heart; his caring and compassion were so grand. Yer grandma, Maggie, was a beautiful woman, a head of red hair on her like flame, and very light blue eyes as clear as the sky. He adored her. Most did,\u201d he sighed, smiling at the memory. \u201cThey were good neighbors and good parents. Yer uncles were fine lads and your mother was\u2026well, your mother was a lass I would have been happy to call me own. I almost did.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s head came up at that last, his eyes confused. \u201cSir?\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan sighed and got to his feet, walking over to the bar. \u201cDo ye remember me tellin\u2019 ye about me son, Sean?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cSean and Siobhan were betrothed when he was hanged and she was whipped out of Ireland.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick stared at Corrigan, jaw dropped and his eyes wide in shock. \u201cThey was\u2026 was gonna be married?!\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d nodded Corrigan. He felt no miseries of conscience in telling Patrick this lie. It should have been the truth; could have been, given enough time.. Sean had wanted<\/em> to be betrothed to Siobhan, desperately, but she only loved him as a playmate, a friend. The two had grown up together and had been friends since babyhood, but she had not loved him in the way he did her. In his mind, given time, Corrigan believed Siobhan would have realized what a perfect match a marriage to Sean would be.<\/p>\n

Pat leaned back against the bar, his mind whirling. \u201cThen\u2026\u201d\u00a0 His eyes narrowed as he thought.\u00a0 \u201cThen you\u2019d a been my grandda,\u201d he said softly, slowly raising his eyes in wonder to the man beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, lad,\u201d nodded the older man. \u201cYe wouldn\u2019t have been raised in the slums of Hell\u2019s Kitchen. Ye wouldn\u2019t have been feelin\u2019 the pull of yer Irish blood at war with the Orange.\u201d He eyed the boy sadly.<\/p>\n

Pat frowned, thinking about that. What if his father hadn\u2019t been his father? God knows he\u2019d given Dad a lot of grief over the last seven months, but\u2026 what if he hadn\u2019t been Adam Cartwright\u2019s son?<\/p>\n

He shook his head and stared at Corrigan, feeling dazed. This was too much to take in. He needed to think. He got to his feet and walked toward the table, having to move, to do something<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Corrigan came up behind him and put an arm around the tall youngster\u2019s shoulder. \u201cYe\u2019d have been Irish to the core, lad, with both my blood and yer grandda\u2019s runnin\u2019 through yer veins, a natural successor in the fight.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Corrigan said grandda that way, Pat suddenly had images of his grandfather, Ben, swim in his mind. Granddad\u2019s warm dark eyes laughing, teaching him a few tricks at chess to even up the score when he played with his father. Pointing out the stars in the heavens and explaining how he used to navigate by those very stars while at sea on The Wanderer<\/em>. \u00a0Reading to him when he was sick or hurt. So many things! Pat remembered how gentle his grandfather had been when he\u2019d first arrived and had such a hard time adjusting to life in Nevada after growing up in Hell\u2019s Kitchen. He recalled being gathered in his strong arms and hugged when he was lonely and scared, and a few good talking-to\u2019s, always followed by a tousle of his hair or an affectionate swat to the seat to reinforce that his Granddad loved him. And he remembered his grandfather telling him he was proud of him.<\/p>\n

Haven\u2019t heard that<\/strong> much in the last few weeks\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat closed his eyes, shaking his head in frustration.<\/p>\n

\u201cYe aren\u2019t happy at home, are ye, lad?\u201d asked Corrigan quietly.<\/p>\n

Pat said nothing, his fingers lightly tapping the table in front of him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just want ye t\u2019know, lad\u2026\u201d said Corrigan, drawing in a deep breath and taking the plunge, \u201c… if ye ever wanted to renew yer ties with Ireland – your mother\u2019s<\/em><\/strong> Ireland – and that of yer Grandda Riordan\u2026 Well, I\u2019d be honored to have ye join me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s head snapped up in shock. \u201cJoin <\/em>you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI could use a man like you, Pat,\u201d nodded the older man, speaking quietly. \u201cYe\u2019ve a long way to go, learning to control that temper o\u2019yours, but ye\u2019ve the makin\u2019s of a fine Fenian. Ye\u2019re a lad of many talents. Yer grandda would ha\u2019 been proud, lad.\u201d<\/p>\n

Proud.<\/em><\/p>\n

Patrick miserably shut his eyes again. He wished he could have someone, anyone, be proud of him; he sure didn\u2019t feel particularly proud of himself at the moment. A man like you\u2026<\/em> The words echoed in Patrick\u2019s mind; no one at the Ponderosa took him seriously, took him for a man; they all treated him like a little kid. Pat sighed. Was that what he wanted? In order to find out about himself, to feel proud of himself again, did he have to follow in Corrigan\u2019s footsteps, which would ultimately lead to those of his Irish grandfather?<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026 I just wanted ye t\u2019know how \u2026 how fond I am of ye, lad,\u201d said Corrigan gruffly, turning away.<\/p>\n

This was too much to take in, too much for him to struggle through right now.\u00a0 Patrick abruptly turned toward the door. \u201cI\u2026 I gotta go,\u201d he said, his expression troubled.<\/p>\n

Corrigan grew a bit alarmed; had he gone too far? \u201cSure, and it\u2019s not three yet,\u201d he said jovially, trying to read the boy\u2019s mood.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it isn\u2019t, but I\u2026\u201d The boy shook his head. \u201cI just gotta go. I\u2019ll see ya, Mr. Corrigan.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan watched him go, irritated, wondering if he\u2019d had as strong a hold on the boy as he\u2019d thought. If not, he could kiss that Cartwright money good-bye.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat galloped through the countryside, his mind muddled and his heart discontented. His talk with Corrigan had upset him, more than he\u2019d thought it could. Even the persistent, dull ache in his backside didn\u2019t stop him from riding hell bent for leather. He hauled Jack up as he reached the crossroads, trying to decide what to do.<\/p>\n

Patrick frowned and looked toward home. He was awfully surprised to realize it, but he desperately wanted to talk to his father, wanted his sensible advice.<\/p>\n

What a mess\u2026<\/em> Gee, Dad, whaddya think? Should I take off and help Eamon Corrigan finance an Irish uprising?!<\/em><\/p>\n

He had no one to confide in now, not without giving himself away. Frustrated, Pat hung his head, desperately trying to think. What should I do?<\/em> he wondered miserably. He raised his head again, angrily blinking his eyes at the tears that burned them, refusing to let them fall. How the hell did he always manage to end up in such a r\u00edr\u00e1?[2]<\/em> Here he was supposed to be so damn bright\u2026<\/p>\n

He glanced toward the mountains and thought of the lake. There had been several times in the last seven months that the peace and quiet of Lake Tahoe had calmed him and helped him think through a problem.<\/p>\n

Patrick wheeled Jack around and nudged him into a canter toward the soothing influence of the lake. There was nothing there that ever upset him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The fire crackled cheerfully as Adam stirred the stew in the cook pot. He glanced up at Veronica who stood at the edge of the knoll looking out over the lake, smiling at the gorgeous view. Adam had chosen to picnic near the old shack, in case of inclement weather.<\/p>\n

\u201cHungry?\u201d he grinned at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cRavenous!\u201d she laughed, coming to sit by the fire, her hands outstretched toward the flames to warm them. He dished up servings of the savory stew, and they sat side by side looking out at the view while they ate in companionable silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, this place is so beautiful,\u201d she sighed finally, setting down her bowl and staring out over the vista before her. \u201cYou must love to come here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a special spot for me,\u201d he nodded, as he set his own plate aside. \u201cWhenever I\u2019m uneasy or troubled about something, I come up here\u2026 it seems to ease my mind, somehow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can believe it,\u201d she nodded, gazing around herself then turning to meet his hazel eyes. \u201cSuch peace. And beauty.\u201d<\/p>\n

He sensed a sadness in her mood and wondered if she would react again as she had Friday evening.<\/p>\n

\u201cVeronica,\u201d he said tentatively, \u201cwhat\u2019s wrong? Can I help?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nearly winced at his offer, and once again gazed out at the peaceful lake scene.<\/p>\n

Patiently, he waited while she thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she finally said quietly. \u201cI\u2019m afraid you can\u2019t. Except to just be here and be a friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA friend?\u201d he murmured, taking her hand. \u201cI\u2019ll be that, of course, but\u2026 well, I thought we had agreed there was something more than\u2026 well, just friendship between us.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned to him, her eyes sad. \u201cOh, Adam.\u201d She shook her head, feeling helpless. \u201cLife is so complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n

He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek, but hesitated, drawing it back again. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m sorry. Here I promised I\u2019d behave,\u201d he said with a sheepish smile. He got to his feet gathering the bowls and carrying them down to the lake to be washed. He had a feeling, given her mood, she might appreciate a little breathing room to get herself settled once more.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

= = =<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat walked Black Jack through Sand Cove and breathed in the fresh, clean air. He felt a little better just being here. He dismounted and lightly wrapped his reins around some scrub nearby, giving the horse plenty of lead to be able to drink, then walked toward the water\u2019s edge. Picking up a smooth flat stone, he let fly, watching it skip it over the water. He got perhaps four skips, before it sank into the water. He smiled to himself. Uncle Hoss said his dad had been able to skip a stone ten to twelve times before it sank when he was a boy. Pat stared out into the lake, finding it hard to imagine his father at his own age.\u00a0 But maybe\u2026 maybe he looked like me?<\/em><\/p>\n

His mother had never told him about a Sean Corrigan back in Ireland. In fact, she\u2019d always said that the only man she\u2019d ever truly loved was his father. Had she just said that, maybe to make him feel better? Pat shook his head. No. His mother had been the most honest person he knew, next to Dad.<\/p>\n

He walked for a good half-mile before he realized it and, surprised, raised his head, sniffing… a wood fire? He was startled to see smoke rising just over the knoll which overlooked the beach. Frowning, he wondered what it could be. This is Cartwright<\/strong> land,<\/em> he thought in righteous anger, no one should be trespassing. And, sure as hell, no one should be making fires!<\/em><\/p>\n

As he hurried back to get Jack before going to investigate, it didn\u2019t occur to him to wonder about the feeling of possession and pride when he referred to \u201cCartwright land.\u201d After all, he was a Cartwright, too.<\/p>\n

= = =<\/p>\n

Adam stood for a moment at the edge of the lake, then bent to pick up a few flat, small stones and carefully taking aim, skipped them across the lake. Ten skips. He smiled. It had been many years since he\u2019d done that. He was startled to be able to recall, as clearly as if had just happened, leaning down to his little brother Hoss, then only about four, to try to teach him how to skip stones. He grinned, shaking his head\u2026 twenty-five years. And he sighed, thinking of all that had happened in between. His stepmother, Marie. College. Siobhan.<\/p>\n

Siobhan.<\/em> He had so successfully managed to keep that painful part of his life buried for so long; he might not have forgotten the hurt of losing her, but he\u2019d been able to bury it deep inside, along with so many other troubling thoughts and feelings that had tormented him since childhood. But with Pat\u2019s arrival seven months ago, those feelings had been forced to the surface, compelling him to look back again. Slowly, he\u2019d begun to feel as though he could imagine those blue eyes, that beautiful heart and spirit once more. Only now without the horrible emptiness that had consumed him when she\u2019d left him; that awful ache and loneliness that had enveloped him, nearly destroying him.<\/p>\n

Now, there was Veronica. So much about her reminded him of Siobhan; her spirit, her dark beauty. Was he trying to recapture that feeling with Siobhan again? Or was he seeing Veronica for herself, caring and loving her for her own sake, and not for that of an old flame, now banked to old, dying-out embers? He knew he\u2019d never forget Siobhan. But he was surprised that his heart was allowing him to really think of someone in that same way again. Something beyond a casual affair, to ease physical needs, instead reaching far deeper for other needs he\u2019d fought hard for fifteen years to deny.<\/p>\n

Was it possible to find that kind of love again? It made him think of his father, and the loss of the three women he\u2019d dearly loved. Ben was living proof it was conceivable to persevere, to allow yourself to love more than once, or even twice. Adam had always believed his father was a braver man than he; that he couldn\u2019t open himself up to that again, it just hurt too much. But perhaps, he\u2019d just needed time to allow himself to heal.<\/p>\n

Or, it could be that the arrival of his son had forced him to face certain things about himself he\u2019d previously pushed away from, in fear, or denial. His son, his and Siobhan\u2019s. While the stresses and difficulties they were experiencing were uncomfortable, Adam knew there were worse yet to come. What about when the time came to really counsel his young son about the proper behavior with young ladies? He heaved a deep sigh as he realized he was the poorest possible role model. How could he possibly teach his son the rules when his son existed because he himself had not followed them?<\/p>\n

Poor Pat.<\/em> He frowned as he considered his young son, so unhappy right now. He supposed he must have felt like that at fourteen; for different reasons, perhaps, and maybe he hadn\u2019t been quite as belligerent as Pat, but just as angry and confused. He sighed deeply.\u00a0 He knew he wasn\u2019t handling this situation with his son very well.\u00a0 He studied the lake and felt like he was in the deepest part, with the water lapping over his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow who sounds like they need a friend?\u201d<\/p>\n

He started and turned. Veronica was beside him, wrapped in her shawl. Giving in to impulse, he smiled and put an arm around her shoulders to draw her gently beside him, so both could look out at the view.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust thinking,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, a lot of things\u2026 what the last twenty-five years have meant for me, and what might be ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n

Veronica laid her head on his shoulder. They stood quietly for a moment, and Adam\u2019s desire began to peak again. After a few minutes he turned to look down into her dark eyes with his own and saw a matching passion there.<\/p>\n

Without thinking, he bent closer and kissed her gently. She returned the kiss, and then rested her forehead on his chest, closing her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cVeronica,\u201d he breathed, \u201cwe\u2019d better stop now or I won\u2019t be able to\u2014”<\/p>\n

She raised her head once again placed a finger to his lips. \u201cThis time\u2026\u201d she said softly, \u201cI don\u2019t want you to stop.\u201d<\/p>\n

He put her away from him just slightly and stared into her eyes. \u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Adam, I\u2019m sure.\u201d She brought her hands up to his face, cupping his face and drawing him down to her.<\/p>\n

= = =<\/p>\n

Patrick tethered Black Jack further back from the old shack and inched forward, crouched low, using the thick scrub for cover as he slowly covered the scrubby, sandy ground that surrounded the knoll near the building.\u00a0 In places, he dropped to his belly in order to remain unseen; winter had denuded much of the brush, leaving him unprotected from view.\u00a0 And unprotected was something he did not<\/em><\/strong> enjoy being; he\u2019d left his rifle at home, after all. Who needs a rifle in school?<\/em> As a consequence, he warily approached the knoll, not sure of what he\u2019d find. He peered up carefully over the edge of the knoll, taking in the sight of the buggy and horse.<\/p>\n

Startled, he squinted at the animal.\u00a0 Jeez, was that horse old Sandy?<\/em> He saw the cook fire with the stewpot. And he heard\u2026 voices? Yes, more than one.\u00a0 And, it sounded like a man and a woman\u2019s voice.\u00a0 What the hell\u2026?<\/em><\/p>\n

He carefully eased up a bit more to look down toward the lake where he heard the voices more clearly rising from.<\/p>\n

And promptly wished he hadn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Patrick gaped in shocked amazement to see his father in a passionate embrace with Wendy\u2019s mother. Adam\u2019s arms were around her, hers were first close to his chest, then wrapping around his back, clinging as they kissed deeply, barely coming up for air. Pat sank back a moment behind the knoll, feeling as though he\u2019d been violently punched in the gut. All these months out here, never had his dad expressed more than passing admiration for a woman. Suddenly, all that had changed.\u00a0 This woman had stirred his father, and Patrick was surprised to note he resented it.<\/p>\n

Unbidden, images of his mother barraged him, memories of all the years of her solitude and loneliness. Even of the years of her trying to find happiness with others, like Ray Connelly, Tom Ryan, and even Jimmy O\u2019Halloran\u2026and failing because she couldn\u2019t remove Adam Cartwright from her mind.<\/p>\n

Crazily, those feelings careened along side by side with his own feelings of anger and abandonment as a small boy, wondering why he couldn\u2019t have a Da like other boys, trying to understand why he was out in the cold, left without a protector beyond his mother. \u00a0\u00a0All the feelings that had swirled around him in his first thirteen years every time he thought of this man who was his father. Swallowing hard, Patrick turned back to watch the two again, fighting down his feelings.<\/p>\n

Pat sank a little lower when he saw the couple suddenly break apart and stare at each other intensely. With a swift movement, Adam effortlessly scooped Veronica up into his arms, right there at the water\u2019s edge, and gazed at her once again, kissing her gently, then walked slowly with her to shack, her head resting quietly on his shoulder. Adam kicked the door to the shack open, then hooked his foot around it again to close it, shutting out the world\u2026.and his son.<\/p>\n

Alarmed, Pat waited. And waited some more. But they didn\u2019t come back out. Pat strained to listen but was too far away to hear much of anything. Wearily, he sank onto his haunches and buried his head in his hands. Pat was no babe in the woods; he had a pretty good idea of what was going on in that shack.\u00a0 And he couldn\u2019t really blame his father; Mrs. Carter was a beautiful woman. He tried to think this through: his father was an adult, he had a right to a life.<\/p>\n

But still, Pat felt \u2026 robbed<\/em><\/strong> somehow, though he was too rattled to really be able to put his finger on why.<\/p>\n

Dad was honorable.\u00a0 He was a good man.\u00a0 He always did the right thing.\u00a0 He wasn\u2019t prone to sudden impulses like Uncle Joe.\u00a0 He was\u2026 well, dammit, he was Dad!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

It was just that he felt as though the father who always did the right thing, who was always honorable, had been nothing more than a sham. Patrick felt cheated, lied to and betrayed. But when he tried to think of a reason why, he couldn\u2019t come up with one. After all, his father was just being\u2026 well, being a man! \u00a0Pat had grown up in a saloon and brothel, after all.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t like he wasn\u2019t aware of men\u2019s actions!<\/p>\n

Pat squeezed his eyes shut, miserably holding back his tears, frustrated with himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, Dad,\u201d he whispered in misery, \u201cyou ain\u2019t the guy I thought you were.\u201d And there was nothing his father could do, or say, to change that.\u00a0 The man he believed to have been a perfect father would never come back.<\/p>\n

Stop acting like a stupid kid!<\/em><\/p>\n

He turned around and quietly slid down the knoll, resting his back against the cold ground, shaking his head, then staring up at the sky.<\/p>\n

Wearily, Pat hauled himself to his feet and began the long trek home.<\/p>\n

= = =<\/p>\n

Ben decided that he should really have a talk with Adam; the tension in this house was getting thick enough to cut with a knife. \u00a0He stood in the kitchen listening to the cadence of the wood chopping in the yard and shook his head sadly. How many times had he heard Adam, Hoss or Joe attacking the woodpile like that, trying to work off a temper or a troubled mind?<\/p>\n

From the kitchen window, the man studied his grandson in worry, also thinking of the toll this situation was taking on the whole family.\u00a0 Hoss had taken to spending as much time away from the house as possible, and Joe was enjoying the fireworks way too much. Ben knew that there was something bothering his young grandson, more than just his usual peppery mood, and, he believed, more than his resentment from his caning earlier in the week.<\/p>\n

What was harder for Ben to fathom was why Adam\u2019s usual good sense when assessing his boy\u2019s behavior seemed to be abandoning him. It certainly made it harder for Patrick to approach him when he believed his father would bite his head off or be unable to understand.<\/p>\n

Ben sipped his coffee, hearing the front door bang, and walked out toward the great room.<\/p>\n

Adam was unbuckling his gun belt, laying it quietly on the sideboard. Ben raised an eyebrow; Adam wore a quiet smile and seemed relaxed and refreshed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you look pretty happy. Did the negotiations go well?\u201d he asked, sipping his coffee.<\/p>\n

Startled, Adam glanced up at his father and grinned. Happy? Oh, yes, he was happy!<\/em> \u201cJust fine, Pa,\u201d he nodded. \u201cGregory agreed to our terms, and we have sixteen weeks before we have to start delivery.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSixteen\u2026 how on earth did you talk him into giving us four months?\u201d crowed Ben, a big smile on his face. That would make it entirely possible to hit the deadlines on that contract!<\/p>\n

Adam cocked an eyebrow of his own and smiled. \u201cCharm, Pa. My irresistible charm.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben was about to retort in good-natured sarcasm when they both heard the kitchen door slam shut. Patrick came through, his arms full of wood and the ever-present scowl on his face. He didn\u2019t even look at his father or grandfather as he walked into the great room and loaded the kindling and logs into the woodbox.<\/p>\n

He brushed off his hands into the hearth, careful not to get chips and wood dust on the rug and shrugged out of his jacket. The silence was deafening as Pat carefully walked around his father to hang up his coat.<\/p>\n

\u201cChores finished already?\u201d asked Adam, pleasantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d grunted Pat, as he turned around toward the stairs. He stopped only when his father gently took his arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoa,\u201d said Adam easily. \u201cHow about a hello?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat turned to his father, carefully removing his arm from his father\u2019s grasp. \u201cHi.\u201d Knowing what he knew, it was impossible for Patrick to look at his father without giving away his resentment and anger, so he decided not to look at him at all.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s jaws ground together, his brows knit in frustration.\u00a0 He shook his head, walking away toward his desk.<\/p>\n

Pat felt a pang of remorse at having upset his grandfather, and looked after him, hesitantly, then the scowl returned and he kicked at the floor with his boot.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I go now?\u201d he asked, impatiently.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, look,\u201d sighed Adam, his hands on his hips. \u201cIf you\u2019re trying to drive us all crazy in order for you to get out of being confined to your room, forget it. It isn\u2019t going to happen.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat rolled his eyes. \u201cOh, yeah, I know,\u201d he replied, just a hair short of insolently. \u201cLook, I don\u2019t gotta be happy about this, do I?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s lips thinned. \u201cNo, I suppose you don\u2019t,\u201d he replied quietly. \u201cBut you have no right to impose your bad moods on everyone around you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, then suppose I just go to my room, so I ain\u2019t imposin\u2019,\u201d snapped back Pat, turning and stomping to the stairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick!\u2019 Adam was beside him in two strides and caught his arm again, turning the boy around on the first step, making him nearly tall enough to look him in the eye.<\/p>\n

Had Pat been less upset, he\u2019d have noted the darkening of his father\u2019s face, the brows knitting together and the unmistakable firming as he jaw clenched.\u00a0 But at the moment, Pat was doing his best to simply not completely explode.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, young man, I\u2019m sorry you\u2019re having a rough time, but I\u2019d like to remind you that I\u2019m not the one who broke restriction, who tried to deceive their father, or made pulling nasty practical jokes a new art form. If you\u2019re upset with whoever did do those things, I suggest you go upstairs, look in the mirror and have it out with your reflection!\u201d<\/p>\n

That brought the boy\u2019s eyes up and he glared directly into his father\u2019s face. \u201cI could say the same thing,\u201d Patrick returned hotly, his blue eyes blazing.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d demanded Adam, confused, thoroughly startled into blankness. Then he felt his temper bubble strongly at the boy\u2019s demeanor. Growing red in the face, his hands found themselves planted on his hips, glaring into his son\u2019s face. \u201cWhat\u2019s that<\/em> supposed to mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothin\u2019,\u201d Pat mumbled, looking down again, simmering. \u201cForget it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, what\u2019s got into you?! You\u2019ve been surly, difficult to get along with and downright mean the last few days. Nobody can talk to you without getting a smart-mouthed reply!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI been stuck in my room since Friday!\u201d Pat grunted, crossing his arms over his chest belligerently. \u201cI ain\u2019t talked to anybody! And anytime I do <\/em>try to talk, either I get laughed at, yelled at or told I\u2019m having an … an \u2026 \u2018inappropriate conversation!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam eyed his young son. \u201cSo, that\u2019s still bothering you, is it? Patrick, I told you that the Ponderosa is not going to finance\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, you told me, all right!\u201d snapped Pat, his feet set wide apart on the stair, arms akimbo. \u201cIllegal insurrection!\u201d The boy was ready for a fight now, and devil take the hindmost, he was going to have it! \u201cTell me somethin\u2019, Dad\u2026just how goddamn legal was the Continental Congress, huh? The American Revolution? Your ancestors were fightin\u2019 the British, too! Probably your own great-grandfather! How can you stand there and tell me mine shouldn\u2019t\u2019a had the same chance at freedom?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t take that tone of voice with me, young man,\u201d said Adam sternly, though Pat\u2019s words dug at him. \u201cAnd watch your language!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right, when somebody says somethin\u2019 that\u2019s honest, just slap \u2018em down! Ain\u2019t that what you Orangemen always do?\u201d sneered Pat, waving a hand derisively.<\/p>\n

He took advantage of the shock the epithet raised on his father\u2019s face to suddenly push past Adam on his way down the steps again, restlessly stalking in front of the fireplace. Whirling back, his fists clenched, he declared, \u201cFrom what I hear, there used to be a time when other people\u2019s suffering mattered to you! Uncle Joe said durin\u2019 the Civil War you wanted to join the Union Army to free the slaves!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben winced; oh, Joe\u2026!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cJust what in hell d\u2019ya think Corrigan\u2019s doing?! He\u2019s<\/em><\/strong> freeing the slaves, too! Except they ain\u2019t got brown skin! They look like Eamon Corrigan, and Tim O\u2019Brien, and\u2026 and Siobhan Riordan!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

The boy quickly skirted around his grandfather\u2019s leather chair to keep out of his father\u2019s reach when, at the mention of Siobhan\u2019s name, Adam strode directly to his son. Despite that advance, Pat\u2019s belligerent and fierce expression didn\u2019t abate.<\/p>\n

Ben stood near his desk area, helplessly watching the drama unfold, feeling as though he was reliving every fight with an adolescent Adam he\u2019d ever had as he saw the pain and hurt in his grandson\u2019s eyes and the answering anger in those of his son. Their arguments had been hot and angry, too; oh, the words and the reasons had been different, to be sure, but all the contradictory emotions were there. It hurt as much to remember them as it did to watch this new generation of Cartwright men battling for power and position. Adam had never openly challenged him as directly as Patrick was doing now, however, and Ben worried where these fireworks might lead. And if these words said in anger would open wounds that might never heal between the boy and his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop it, Pat,\u201d Adam said, his voice ominously quiet and his face white, his dark eyes inflamed. \u201cDon\u2019t say another word, or you\u2019ll regret it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe only regrets I got is believin\u2019 that you had some honor!\u201d Pat shouted. \u201cBut I guess we both know different, don\u2019t we? Values and morals are words you only use when you\u2019re yellin\u2019 at me! <\/em>Not for yourself! Oh, no! You toss \u2018em out the window when the mood strikes, don\u2019t ya? Just like everybody else, you take what ya can get when ya see it!\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick was so angry that, unthinking, he came out from behind the relative safety of the chair losing his physical advantage as he openly challenged his father, a good six inches taller, with a ferocity that made the youngster seem taller than he was. His memories of his feelings about what he\u2019d seen that afternoon at the lake pushed all sensible thought from his mind and he lashed out, his next words as sharp and stinging as the flails of a whip. \u201cAfter all, I\u2019m livin\u2019 proof you ain\u2019t above a roll in the hay when it\u2019s available, \u2018specially with an Irish barmaid!\u201d<\/p>\n

The violent slap across his cheek snapped Pat\u2019s head back and rocked him a few steps on his heels, nearly toppling him backward into the hearth. But the boy regained his footing, shaking his head a moment to clear it, the imprint of his father\u2019s hand blazing on his cheek, and glared at the man, his fists clenched at his sides. There was absolutely nothing<\/em> childlike about the fourteen-year-old facing the bigger man; this battle was man to man.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam!\u201d Ben cried, starting to come between them, but a single fury-ridden glance and an outflung finger pointing from his son rooted him to the floor momentarily. Then, grimly, Ben strode forward, despite his son\u2019s warning and stood between them.\u00a0 \u201cBoth of you, that\u2019s enough!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStay out of this, Pa!\u201d Adam growled. Quick as a snake he reached around his father and furiously grabbed this son by his shirtfront, hauling him around and bringing him up on the toes of his boots as he glared down into his face<\/p>\n

Ben remained at the ready, watching, feeling helpless, though prepared to intervene if necessary. \u00a0Adam\u2026 dear God, boy, use your reason!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you ever, ever<\/em> talk about your mother like that again! How dare<\/em> you insult her that way? What the hell is wrong with you! She was no floozy, and you know it! She worked hard, and she was the most honorable person I ever knew. I would never <\/em>have hurt her! And let me tell you something, you arrogant, foul-mouthed little brat, she\u2019d be ashamed of you right now!\u201d Adam released him with an angry push, that nearly tottered him again, furious that he still saw defiance and not shame or at least a little contrition in those hot blue eyes. \u201cGo to your room, and don\u2019t come down again until you\u2019re ready to apologize!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s breathing was ragged and fast, the white mark of his father\u2019s palm now reddening, a stark contrast to his pallor. Without another word he stalked past his father and up the stairs to his room, slamming his door behind him.<\/p>\n

Adam put a shaking hand out to the fireplace and leaned against it, spent from the intensity of the argument, his head down and his eyes closed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat in the world was that?\u201d demanded Ben, coming around to the side of his son.\u00a0 \u201cWhat was the boy talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d Adam lifted his head and stared at his father. \u201cAnd I didn\u2019t see much \u2018boy\u2019 in that just now, did you?\u201d he demanded. \u201cHe\u2019s got a mean streak a mile wide!\u201d<\/p>\n

His black brows knit together, Ben glared at his eldest son.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think it must be something more than that,\u201d ground out his father tightly. \u201cPat\u2019s a sensitive boy. Ignoring it or expecting him to just \u2018get over it\u2019 hasn\u2019t worked, has it!?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam clamped his mouth together, afraid if he didn\u2019t he would say something totally unforgivable to his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s absolutely something bothering him, and I\u2019m sure our reluctance to help support Corrigan has something to do with it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, he\u2019d better get over it,\u201d Adam snapped, straightening his shoulders again. \u201cI won\u2019t tolerate it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWon\u2019t tolerate what?\u201d demanded Ben, hands on his hips. \u201cHis rudeness, or his arguments? They were well thought out, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, stop!\u201d said Adam through tightly clenched teeth.<\/p>\n

Ben frowned, realizing that Adam was too angry to reason with. \u201cAlright, Adam, fine.\u00a0 I\u2019ll stop.\u201d Ben waved his hand in frustration and started to walk away. But he couldn\u2019t let it go, and turned around, punctuating his words with a finger firmly poking his son in the chest.\u00a0 \u201cBut I still say there\u2019s something bothering that boy and if you don\u2019t get to the root of it there\u2019s going to be the devil to pay. Otherwise, you\u2019ll find this lovely little scene is only the beginning!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[1]<\/a> As Ye Sow,<\/em> Pat Thompson-Dumas, 1997<\/em><\/p>\n

[2] r\u00edr\u00e1 – Irish word for ‘uproar’ or ‘hubbub’<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER THIRTEEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Friday morning dawned cold and rainy. Pat stared out his bedroom window at the weather which seemed to mirror his mood while he buttoned his shirt. He\u2019d gotten next to nothing for sleep the night before. He’d been too upset after the violent argument with his father to eat and too wound up to sleep. His father had left him strictly alone. Dad had meant what he said, no doubt about it.<\/p>\n

Pat had spent most of the early part of last evening feeling sorry for himself, building up a tremendous boiling pot of anger, but even his formidable stubbornness began to crack under the stress of keeping his own words from echoing in his brain. When the chink in his armor widened enough to allow them to ring in his mind, he was done in. The only tears wrested from him after all the misery of yesterday were shed last night in the dark as he thought of the way he’d spoken of his mother. Dad was right, he had insulted her. He\u2019d been willing to say anything <\/em>he could think of to hurt his father, and instead had hurt the memory of his Ma, which had in turn hurt himself.<\/p>\n

The boy shook his head and grimaced as he tucked his shirttail into his pants. Never had ever met anyone<\/em> who could piss him off more than his old man! He sank down onto his bed and pulled on his boots,.<\/p>\n

Also rolling around in his thoughts all last night and this morning were the revelations from Corrigan. His mother and Corrigan’s son\u2026what could have been. He bit his lip as he pulled his mother’s image into his mind, seeing her again as she’d been before she died. He thought of her features and then of his own. Except for his nearly blue-black hair and his intensely blue Riordan eyes, no one would have ever connected the two as mother and son. He got to his feet and walked to his bureau, looking at the mirror hanging on the wall. He studied his face and sighed.<\/p>\n

There was no mistaking whose son he was. Pure Cartwright.<\/p>\n

The shape of his eyes and brows, his nose, his mouth, even the shape of his head. He couldn’t look more like his father if he’d been<\/em> his father! And so much more than his looks\u2026 he had his father’s hardheaded stubbornness, his dry sense of humor, his attention to detail. He fervently wished to God he had his father’s common sense, or he’d never have found himself in this mess to begin with.<\/p>\n

If he hadn’t had Adam Cartwright for a father\u2026well, he wouldn’t be<\/em><\/strong>.\u00a0 It wasn’t just his looks.\u00a0 According to Corrigan, he might have grown up in Ireland, not Hell’s Kitchen. So much of who and what he was rested in his mother’s struggle to raise him in the squalor of the New York City slums. Patrick sank slowly onto his bed again, knowing that if he’d been Corrigan’s grandson instead of Ben Cartwright’s, everything he was, everything he’d ever been, simply wouldn’t exist anymore. How could he wish for that? It’d be like wishing he’d never been born.<\/p>\n

These thoughts had also made him rfriendship butse members of the family downstairs were also a part of him now: his Uncle Hoss, whom he loved dearly, despite his propensity for making him the butt of his practical jokes; his Uncle Joe, with whom he had more of an armed truce than a friendship, but knowing full well that Joe’d be there for him in a heartbeat if he needed him; his grandfather, whom he adored. And his father\u2026 Jaysus\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Corrigan would be leaving tomorrow or the next day. He had to make up his mind. Would he run off with Corrigan, or would he stay and face the music? And, brother, what a tune it would be! Patrick shivered as he thought over his crimes: cutting school, lying to his father, forging his father’s signature, lying to his teacher in a roundabout way, making his friends lie for him\u2026and that lovely little scene they’d had yesterday. It galled him, but if he was going to get to Corrigan and make any decisions about whether to stay or to go, he’d have to swallow his pride this morning and spit out something that at least sounded like an apology.\u00a0 Oh, God\u2026.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Half an Irishman, half an Orangeman. His future didn’t look promising, no matter which way he went. Maybe he oughta go with Corrigan, where he wouldn’t be causing so much unhappiness. Pat decided his leaving would be best for everyone. Setting his face in a stubborn scowl, Pat gathered his things and prepared to face Corrigan with the news that he’d have a new fighter in his crusade.<\/p>\n

= = = =<\/p>\n

Downstairs, Adam and Hoss were the only ones left at the breakfast table. Ben and Joe had gotten an early start, since they were supervising the hiring of the hands for the cattle drive to begin next week.<\/p>\n

Hoss was, as usual, simply finishing his oversized breakfast and that made him a bit late getting out the door. Adam was quietly waiting, hoping that his son would come to his senses and make his apologies. He’d half-waited the night before for Pat to follow his usual pattern and appear late in Adam’s room, self-consciously and uncomfortably saying sorry in the privacy of his father’s bedroom. It didn’t happen. Consequently, Adam had gotten very little sleep, worrying about his young son, wondering if he’d lost his temper over nothing yesterday.<\/p>\n

Pat’s words had nagged at him\u2026 ‘a roll in the hay’. The uncomfortable implications that phrase raised made him think of Veronica.\u00a0 He examined his thoughts and actions over and over again to be sure that wasn’t all their love-making had been yesterday. No; no doubt about it. Adam intended to ask Veronica to marry him, if she’d have him. This was no casual physical relationship, any more than it had been with Siobhan. He wondered idly how his half-grown son would react to having a stepmother. Well, if Patrick couldn’t accept it, that was just too bad. He’d have to learn to live with it.<\/p>\n

Adam, startled, realized he could have been talking about himself, twenty-five years earlier when Marie had first appeared on the scene. God, how he’d resented her! He’d made her life a hell for the first two years of her time at the Ponderosa; once Joe had been born, they’d managed a wary truce. It wasn’t until Adam had been much older, long after she was gone, that he’d begun to realize that it was his own latent adolescent yearnings for Marie that had muddied the waters of his acceptance of her as his stepmother.<\/p>\n

“Hey, Adam.”<\/p>\n

Brought back into the present, Adam snapped his head back to his younger brother. “Sorry, what was that?”<\/p>\n

“You was a million miles away,” smiled Hoss, sipping his coffee. “You okay?”<\/p>\n

Adam sighed. “Yeah, I suppose so. Just thinking.”<\/p>\n

“About Pat?”<\/p>\n

Adam nodded, “Among other things,” he said quietly, pushing his food around on his plate. He had no appetite; he wasn’t surprised considering the turmoil he was going through right now. Maybe it was true what they said about being in love putting a fellow off his feed.<\/p>\n

“Pa told me about yesterday,” Hoss sighed, pushing his plate away; three heaping servings of everything had been enough. “That kid’s so much like you it’s scary.<\/p>\n

Shocked, Adam picked up his head in surprise. “Are you kidding?” he asked incredulously. “I never<\/em> talked to Pa the way Patrick spoke to me last night!”<\/p>\n

“Only ‘cos you grew up knowin’ Pa would skin you alive and tack your hide to the barn door if you tried,” countered Hoss, leaning back in his chair. “Just ‘cos you didn’t dare give Pa the same kinda lip Pat gave you yesterday don’t mean you weren’t thinkin’ you\u2019d like to.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam cocked his head to one side and looked at his brother in amusement. “I can’t decide whether you’re insulting me by calling me a coward compared to my son, or if you’re saying I’m just smarter at knowing when to keep my mouth shut.”<\/p>\n

“Neither,” shrugged Hoss. “Jest different. ‘Sides, Pat’s temper is hotter than yours. He’s a thinker, too, like you, but he’s also saddled with a fuse like Joe’s\u2026 short! He get that from his ma?”<\/p>\n

Adam chuckled. “Oh, yeah\u2026 Siobhan could get mad faster than anybody I ever met, except maybe Marie.”<\/p>\n

“You think maybe you’re bein’ a little hard on him? Trying to force him into bein’ somebody he ain’t?” asked Hoss very quietly.<\/p>\n

Adam planted his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples with his fingers. “I don’t know, Hoss. I don’t think I am, but he’s sure bucking me hard,” the tired father sighed.<\/p>\n

“Like he’s gettin’ too much spur, maybe?” mused Hoss. “You’re one of the best horse breakers I know, Adam. You know full well too much spur and yanking too hard on the reins makes a young bronc buck harder and longer than bringin’ him along gentle.”<\/p>\n

Adam chuckled and raised a sardonic black brow. “Are you taking over preaching parables on Sunday, younger brother?”<\/p>\n

“Nope,” grinned Hoss. “Just tossin’ some o’ your own back at ya, older brother. Think about it. You used ta get riled at Pa for what you called ‘lettin’ Joe get away with it.’ Maybe Pa just knew that pushin’ Joe any harder would make him worse and he decided let him learn on his own.”<\/p>\n

“Learning on his own got him into pretty serious trouble sometimes,” said Adam soberly, thinking back on some of Joe’s escapades.<\/p>\n

“Yeah, but they were his <\/em>mistakes, Adam. He took the consequences and he learned from it. Better than any time me, or you or even Pa tried to protect him from makin’ \u2018em, if ya remember. Course, Joe did have a whole passel o’ mistakes to learn from, I’ll grant ya that.”<\/p>\n

Adam sighed and looked into his cup, as though hoping to read the future in his coffee grounds. He said nothing, pondering what his brother was saying. Hoss decided to let him think on it and started to rise, then turned as he saw his young nephew coming down the stairs. Hoss’ face grew concerned as he watched the boy slowly approach the table.<\/p>\n

Pat looked utterly exhausted. His face was pale, his eyes were circled, and he looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Pat met his uncle’s eye and managed a small smile. “Mornin’, Uncle Hoss,” he said quietly.<\/p>\n

“Mornin’, Pat,” smiled Hoss. “I’ll see you out at the branding corral later, ‘kay Adam?”<\/p>\n

Adam nodded absently, getting to his feet. He slowly turned to his son, his expression calm and bland. His son’s obvious discomfort and unhappiness bothered him, too.<\/p>\n

Patrick couldn’t read his father’s mood. But it was getting late; he might as well get this over with. “I’m sorry for the way I talked to you yesterday,” he muttered, his hands jammed in his pockets and his eyes on the floor. He glanced up at his father for some idea of what he was thinking, then dropped his eyes again when he couldn’t gauge his father’s mood.<\/p>\n

“I think we both got more upset than we needed to,” nodded Adam in return, relieved that apology finally came through. He didn\u2019t know what he would have done if Patrick had remained stubborn about it this morning. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”<\/p>\n

Startled, Patrick looked up again.<\/p>\n

“I guess my reluctance to help Corrigan must seem pretty contradictory to you,” he said quietly. “Patrick, your mother told me all about the miseries she left behind in Ireland. When I asked her marry me, I wanted her to come out here, to be able to leave all that behind. I guess\u2026 well, I guess having Corrigan here, stirring all that up in you, just reminded me too much of what lost your mother to me.”<\/p>\n

Pat gazed at his father, thinking hard. Drawing in a quiet breath, he tipped his head to one side, and asked softly, “How can ya leave behind part of who you are?”<\/p>\n

Adam looked at him, intrigued. “Is that what you feel I’ve been trying to make you do? Leave behind a part of yourself?”<\/p>\n

Uneasily, Patrick frowned and shrugged. “I dunno\u2026 maybe,” he conceded. This conversation was heading nowhere the boy wanted to go right now.\u00a0 He didn’t need anything else to complicate his thoughts at the moment, and his father doing some weird turnaround would definitely complicate things.<\/p>\n

“Pat, I’ll make a deal with you,” said his father, uncomfortably forcing himself to give in a little. “You promise to knock that chip off your shoulder you’ve been carrying around the last few weeks, and I’ll promise to try harder to \u2026 to\u2026 oh, I don’t know. I guess to just let you be yourself. Deal?”<\/p>\n

Adam was disappointed at the lack of warmth in the, “Sure, Dad,” that Pat muttered in reply as he walked toward the door to put on his coat.<\/p>\n

But then Adam closed his eyes in shame, remembering the slap he’d delivered. Shaking his head, Adam firmed his mouth. He supposed he ought to be pleased his kid was talking to him at all.<\/p>\n

Pat read the silence as success; he’d managed to keep his father from feeling complacent; Dad hadn’t won this time. Pat hung onto that feeling of triumph, not allowing himself to analyze it. In the very back of his mind, he knew he’d need it when the time came for his sharp mind to justify running off.<\/p>\n

Without saying good-bye, Patrick donned his hat, picked up his saddlebags filled with schoolbooks he wouldn’t use again today, and walked out the door.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick sat quietly in the Bucket of Blood\u2019s back room, sipping a beer, and thinking. He hadn\u2019t yet told Corrigan about his decision. Eamon had been busy packing up his things, and his right-hand man, Michael, was supervising the shipping of their larger items: trunks, large cases, and the like.<\/p>\n

The money had been banked and a cashier\u2019s check issued. Corrigan was pleased with the amount, but glanced over at the boy, knowing that the five thousand dollars sitting in the Cartwright safe could certainly sweeten the pot quite a bit.<\/p>\n

\u201cPadhraic, hand me that bag over there, will you, lad?\u201d he asked easily, hoping to get the boy to open up. Eamon Corrigan had watched men, young and old, and their reactions for years and knew that there was a major decision either being made or being thought over in the boy\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n

Pat slowly got to his feet and obeyed, walking the bag over to the older Irishman. Eamon pretended to be unconcerned, casual, and watched the boy out of the corner of his eye.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can look me in the eye, y\u2019know,\u201d Patrick said quietly with a small smile.<\/p>\n

Corrigan chuckled. \u201cWell, lad, you\u2019ve had somethin\u2019 on yer mind, t\u2019be sure. I was just wonderin\u2019 what it might be.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve decided to take you up on your offer,\u201d said the boy quietly, sipping his beer as he leaned against the bar, watching Corrigan pack personal items into the bag.<\/p>\n

\u201cOffer?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo join you.\u201d<\/p>\n

There; it was out.. With the words finally uttered, Pat felt himself relax.<\/p>\n

Eamon Corrigan slowly turned to the boy. \u201cI\u2019ll not have ye runnin\u2019 away, Paddy. It can\u2019t be that way.\u201d Bristling, Patrick scowled and started to speak, but Corrigan held up his hand to forestall him. \u201cI mean it, Padhraic. It cannot be an escape ye seek. The work is too serious. Ye must be running toward<\/em> something, not away from it, lad. Do ye understand what I\u2019m tellin\u2019 ye?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silently, Patrick studied the older man and nodded. Honesty, frank and clear-eyed, shone from his face.\u00a0 \u201cYeah, I understand. I want to be part of what my mother and grandfather and uncles fought for. \u00a0Died for. The work ain\u2019t done. I want to help.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan looked deeply into the boy\u2019s eyes. He saw no confusion, but he wasn\u2019t dissuaded; he was sure the boy was running from something, but all of his life, he\u2019d known men that had joined the cause to escape something that hadn\u2019t allowed them peace in their lives. If Patrick had Riordan blood coursing through his veins, it was likely he\u2019d be the same. Paddy Riordan had been a pacifist, \u2018twas true. But the injustice of the plight of the Irish had still forced the man to fight; for his sons, for his daughter, \u00a0and for the daughters and sons of all of Ireland. Paddy had had the gift of seeing people as both a group and as individuals. It had been his undoing, in Eamon\u2019s opinion. He was unable to set the pain of the one aside in order to justify the ruthlessness needed to make social change.<\/p>\n

His grandson, from what Eamon was able to determine, did not suffer from that personality flaw. Corrigan had done some snooping around town and had learned that in the seven months Patrick Riordan Cartwright had been in Virginia City he\u2019d established himself as a youngster who was unafraid to gain an end and later justify the means. With proper training, that would prove to be a strength in the boy\u2019s growth as a Fenian insurrectionist.\u00a0 Corrigan thought he could have been the one to do it, too. But…<\/em><\/strong> he firmed his lips.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Padhraic.\u201d Corrigan leaned back against the bar. \u201cAnd your family? Yer sainted father?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf we play this right he won\u2019t know until I\u2019m long gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan cocked an eyebrow. \u201cWill we, now? And how do ye propose to do that, lad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re leavin\u2019 tomorrow, right?\u201d asked Patrick.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAt night?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight again. Ye win the prize,\u201d said Corrigan dryly.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen we should have eight hours lead on \u2018em. Where are ya heading. San Francisco?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust outside. A ship will be picking me up at a less\u2026 public\u2026. harbor,\u201d smiled Corrigan.<\/p>\n

\u201cBetter yet,\u201d nodded Pat seriously. \u201cThen they can\u2019t trace us. I\u2019m tellin\u2019 ya, it\u2019ll be a snap,\u201d he said, illustrating with a snap of his fingers.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd ye think they\u2019ll follow ye, do ye?\u201d asked Corrigan quietly, frowning slightly.<\/p>\n

Pat sighed. \u201cI\u2019d like to think they would,\u201d he muttered, looking at the top of the bar, then steeling himself and looking up at Corrigan. \u201cBut even if they do, they won\u2019t find us. I\u2019ll make damn sure of that.\u201d Those Riordan blue eyes were almost steely gray in the dim light of the back room.<\/p>\n

Corrigan eyed him seriously, then nodded quietly. Michael entered the room at the point, several carpet bags in his hands, an eyebrow rising to see Patrick here again.<\/p>\n

\u201cYe\u2019ll be climbing into one of the trunks next,\u201d the young Irishman said dryly, glancing at Corrigan then back at the boy. \u201cIsn\u2019t it past the witchin\u2019 hour, when ye have to get home before yer daddy knows you\u2019ve been misbehaving?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat bristled a little but knew that he was a low man in rank, and silently accepted Michael\u2019s comments. One day, he\u2019d have the man laughing out of the other side of his face, that was for sure!<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019m goin\u2019,\u201d he said lazily, getting to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cPadhraic?\u201d Pat turned to Corrigan as he shrugged into his coat. \u201cDo ye think ye could come back tonight at\u2019all? All of the Fenians will be gatherin\u2019 for a farewell drink, don\u2019t ye know,\u201d said Corrigan quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf ye are indeed t\u2019be one of us, then ye should be there.\u201d The old Fenian smiled at the boy, accurately hitting on exactly the bait needed to hook and reel him in.<\/p>\n

Patrick\u2019s eyes shone as he nodded. \u201cI\u2019ll be here!\u201d he said enthusiastically, his chest swelling with pride, thrilled to be included with the rest. \u201cWhat time?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStroke o\u2019 midnight,\u201d declared Corrigan after a half-second of thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou bet I\u2019ll be here, Mr. Corrigan!\u201d grinned Pat as he put on his hat. He glanced at the clock. \u201cI gotta go, Michael\u2019s right,\u201d he said, seriously. His head high, Pat gazed coolly at the bartender. \u201cWouldn\u2019t wanta be turnin\u2019 into a pumpkin, after all.\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael\u2019s lips thinned at the insolent tone and watched the youngster go in irritation. Once the boy was gone, he swung on Corrigan. \u201cYe\u2019re a fool, Eamon!\u201d he snapped, slamming the bags onto the floor beside him, angrily. \u201cYe can\u2019t take that kid with us! The Carwtrights will be turning every town between here and New York upside down to find him!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll handle the bloody Orange Cartwrights,\u201d said Corrigan coldly, brushing a finger across his lips.<\/p>\n

Michael, open-mouthed stared at the older man. \u201cEamon\u2026 dear God in heaven, Eamon. Think! The lad is not Sean<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

Glaring at the younger man, Corrigan\u2019s eyes were hard as flint as he replied, \u201cIs it jealous ye are, Michael Nolan?! Have I ever given ye reason t\u2019believe that you\u2019re any less in me estimation? Must ye be thrusting the death of me son in me face?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGod, Eamon,\u201d groaned Michael, shaking his head in dismay. \u201cHow can we be draggin\u2019 a wee spalpeen like that along w\u2019us?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s fourteen, hardly an unweaned babe!\u201d snapped Corrigan. \u201cYou leave the worryin\u2019 t\u2019me, Michael!\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael threw his hands in the air and gave up. \u201cWhatever ye say,. \u2018Tis not me affair,\u201d he said gruffly, turning away, his face flushed. His back ramrod straight, Michael finished his packing.<\/p>\n

Eamon wearily rubbed his eyes. He, too, had thought about Adam Cartwright and what his reaction to Patrick\u2019s flight would be. But Eamon had been two steps ahead of Orangemen all of his days. He wasn\u2019t likely to stop now.<\/p>\n

\u201cMichael, use yer head. We want that money out of that safe, do we not?\u201d he asked softly, an eyebrow cocked.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d replied Michael, his tone noncommittal.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd who would be best to help me get it than Master Patrick?\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael, confused, stared at Corrigan. But his thought processes were as fast as his employer\u2019s and dawn broke. \u201cDear God,\u2019 he breathed. \u201cYe\u2019re leadin\u2019 him by the nose, ye are! Ye had no real intention of bringin\u2019 him along with us!”<\/p>\n

Eamon frowned into his glass.<\/p>\n

Michael sagged a little, almost feeling sorry for the little amadan. “Oh, Eamon\u2026t\u2019is a very angry lad ye\u2019ll be contendin\u2019 with.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I have to lead him with us all the way to the wharf, I will, but I\u2019ll have that five thousand, Michael.\u201d Corrigan sipped his cognac. \u201cAnd when all is said and done, Master Padhraic Riordan Cartwright will have learned a valuable lesson.\u201d He looked up at the other man. \u201cNever to think with his heart; his grandfather made the same mistake and swung from a hangin\u2019 tree for his pains. \u2018Tis a favor I\u2019ll be doin\u2019 the lad, Michael. A hard lesson to learn, but necessary.\u201d<\/p>\n

Without another word, Corrigan rose to his feet and slowly walked out of the room, his shoulders sagging. Michael watched him go, unsure of which of the two would be more pained by the lesson: the boy, or the old Fenian.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Miss Masterson, I truly believe that it’s time to shut the school down for a short time,” said Mr. MacDonald seriously, looking at her attendance records. “There’s another five cases this week\u2026 Cassandra Yates, Thomas Sanders\u2026Patrick Cartwright?!” he said in surprise, glancing up at her.<\/p>\n

“Yes, we got a note from Adam Cartwright on Tuesday that Patrick woke up that morning with all the symptoms,” sighed Liz.<\/p>\n

“Really,” mused MacDonald, dryly. “He looked fine when I saw him this afternoon.”<\/p>\n

Liz slowly raised her head and stared at the school board president. “This afternoon?”<\/p>\n

“Yes,” nodded MacDonald, his eyes narrowed. “I saw him riding out of town, as though all the devils in hell were chasing him, around 3:30 this afternoon. And you say you have a letter from his father?”<\/p>\n

Liz walked to her desk and opened the drawer, pawing through papers and pulling out a sheet of foolscap, and handed it over to MacDonald.<\/p>\n

He looked over the note, shaking his head. “In pencil? And on foolscap? Miss Masterson, let me assure you that Adam Cartwright would never have written a note to you this way,” he said thoughtfully, shaking the paper gently at her, with a small, grim smile. “Patrick Cartwright has struck again.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick walked to the woodpile behind the kitchen and saw that with about an hour’s work this afternoon, he’d be caught up until Uncle Hoss brought the new load of logs in tomorrow. Now that he’d made his decision, Patrick was determined to make sure he’d left his chores finished, everything shipshape. Stripping off his jacket, he got to it, working up a good sweat. In single-minded concentration, Pat focused on the chore, chips flying as his powerful shoulders bent to the task.<\/p>\n

Adam watched him from the window, wondering what was going on in the mind of his young son. His face was so serious;\u00a0not a scowl, not angry. Just a serious, sad expression. Adam hadn’t seen that look on his face in months, not since right after his mother had died. Hop Sing had to keep stepping around him and was beginning to get annoyed.<\/p>\n

“You want watch boy, go outside!” scolded Hop Sing after walking all the way around the table four times in the last six minutes when a simple two steps the other way would have gotten him where he wanted to be.<\/p>\n

Sheepishly, Adam flattened himself against the wall as Hop Sing bustled by, snapping in Chinese. Adam chuckled, shaking his head, and slipped carefully back into the dining room. His father was just rising from his desk, stretching.<\/p>\n

“What was Hop Sing yelling at?” grinned Ben, coming over to the dining room table.<\/p>\n

“Me,” sighed Adam, eyebrows cocked. Ben chuckled. “I was just watching Patrick \u2026 he’s putting a lot of energy into the woodpile this afternoon.” Adam walked to the fireplace, thoughtfully. “How did he seem when he came in from school today?”<\/p>\n

“Quiet,” shrugged Ben. “He dropped his books off, got changed and went right out to his chores. Didn’t talk much.”<\/p>\n

Adam shook his head. He just couldn’t keep up with the boy’s mood swings.<\/p>\n

“Did you get a chance to talk with him this morning?” asked his father quietly.<\/p>\n

Adam chuckled without humor. “Yeah, some. He wasn’t particularly communicative. I guess after yesterday I can’t really blame him.”<\/p>\n

“As long as you can get him to talk to you, you’re doing all right,” said Ben quietly.<\/p>\n

“He didn’t talk\u2026much. I tried to explain why this thing with Corrigan bothers me so much,” sighed Adam, sitting down on the oak table and looking into the flames. “But he either wasn’t listening or just didn’t care.”<\/p>\n

Ben walked over and stood beside his son, then rested a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “You can’t give up, son. Lessons often need to be reinforced over and over with boys that age. And you’ve had to talk through a bunch of them with him, from the concept of doing what has to be done even when you don’t want to, down to the premise of discipline handed down outside the home.”<\/p>\n

Adam frowned, stiffening.<\/p>\n

Ben tipped his head to the side. “You… you did explain why John had to get involved, didn’t you?”<\/p>\n

Adam’s brow furrowed, as he tried to remember the sequence of events.<\/p>\n

Ben closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “Adam… you remember Mr. Ohrbach, don’t you?”<\/p>\n

Adam, flushing a little, glanced up at him. “Of course. In fact, I remembered it Monday morning while Pat was waiting his turn.” Adam swallowed.<\/p>\n

“You didn’t talk to him about it beforehand?” Ben sat in his chair, staring intently at his son. “Adam…”<\/p>\n

“Pa, he’s not five years old!” Adam protested. “He knew exactly what he did that was wrong!”<\/p>\n

“No, he’s not!” rumbled Ben, purposefully. “But he’s also not been raised in the same circumstances as you were! Did it not occur to you that his concept of public punishment wasn’t getting his backside whacked in front of his schoolmates? That it was his mother being flogged?!”<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam looked up in shocked surprise, then winced as his father’s words sank in and he sagged.<\/p>\n

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He rose to his feet and shook his head. Then he placed a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. \u201cWell\u2026 as long as you can get him talking at all, you’re moving in the right direction. Give him some time, son. He’s confused and upset.”<\/p>\n

“Yeah,” sighed his oldest son. He thought about what Hoss had said this morning and smiled to himself.<\/p>\n

“What?”<\/p>\n

“Oh, just thinking about something Hoss said this morning. Said I ought to consider easing up on the spurs.”<\/p>\n

For a moment, Ben stood there, a bewildered expression on his face, then he drew the parallel and smiled.<\/p>\n

“Not bad advice,” he nodded, raising his eyebrows. Squeezing his son’s shoulders, Ben ambled off toward the kitchen, leaving Adam to continue gazing in the fire.<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER FOURTEEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hop Sing finished setting the table and called in the four Cartwright men and was carrying out platter after platter of supper just as Patrick came in the kitchen door, wiping his forehead on his sleeve, and pushing back a lock of his black hair. He was tired, but the job was done. He walked to the pump and washed his hands and rinsed his face.<\/p>\n

He sniffed the air, closing his eyes. Hop Sing\u2019s<\/em> roast beef. What I wouldn\u2019t give to be able to share supper with the family one last time\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

He soberly walked out to the dining room, and saw everyone enjoying their meal, while Hop Sing put together a tray for him. He stood quietly to the side, waiting.<\/p>\n

“Last night of solitary, huh, kid?” grinned Uncle Joe.<\/p>\n

“Yeah,” he said softly, with a tiny smile. “Wish I could bust out.”<\/p>\n

Hoss chortled and dug into his supper. Pat accepted his tray, thanking the cook, and walked upstairs.<\/p>\n

Later, in his room, Pat tried to plan the best way to sneak out that evening without being caught. He finished packing the bag he’d take with him tomorrow, glancing around for any last-minute additions to the carpet bag. He glanced at his night table and saw the daguerreotype of his parents, encased in its gold frame. Standing beside it, he ran his forefinger down around the filigree frame, then sighed. No, that would have to be the last thing he packed before leaving. If his father came in, he’d notice that was missing first thing. He turned to his bookshelf and tossed in a couple of his favorites; titles that had become like friends to him. Having them with him, he hoped, would keep his resolve strong as he traveled with Corrigan. A piece of home.<\/p>\n

He quietly pushed the bag into his wardrobe and laid down on his bed, starting on his back, then tiredly turned over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow.<\/p>\n

He heard a knock on his door and wearily pushed himself up on his elbows.<\/p>\n

“Come in.”<\/p>\n

His father poked his head around the door. “Finished your supper?” he asked, peering at the tray on the desk, the plate still half-full.<\/p>\n

“Yeah, it was good,” murmured Pat, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”<\/p>\n

Dad pondered him for a moment, then came over to sit on the bed beside him. “Are you alright?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he nodded, rolling over onto his back.<\/p>\n

Adam smiled, but tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy. “I figured you’d be thrilled, no more evenings stuck in your room.”<\/p>\n

Pat sighed; boy, Dad, if you only knew!<\/em> “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just tired. It’s\u2026 uh\u2026 been a long week. I think I’m gonna read a little and hit the sack early.”<\/p>\n

Adam continued to gaze at him but Patrick was able to perfectly maintain the quiet facade. Giving up, the man \u00a0wearily got to his feet. He stood over his son, and sighed, feeling defeated. “If you need to talk, you know where I am.” He headed to the door.<\/p>\n

“I thought I had to stay in my room,” his son answered quietly with a small smile, an eyebrow cocked.<\/p>\n

Adam came back to him the bed and studied him, seriously, then leaned over, stroking his cockscomb of hair off his forehead.\u00a0 “If you need to talk,” said his father, very gently, “you just come to me. Okay?”<\/p>\n

Pat swallowed hard, lowered his eyes and nodded. “Okay,” he managed to choke out softly. He opened his eyes, and despite his best effort, tears welled. “Thanks, Dad.”<\/p>\n

Adam grew more worried and sat back down. “Hey, buddy,” he said gently, putting his big, strong hand over his son’s slightly smaller one tenderly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”<\/p>\n

Pat struggled and got his emotions back under control. “Honest, Dad, it’s just been a real rough week,” he gruffly, swiping at his damp eyes with a shirt sleeve. “I’m just glad it’s over.”<\/p>\n

Adam sat for a moment longer, then squeezed his son’s hand. “All right. Get a good night’s sleep, okay?” He got to his feet and smiled at his young son, picking up the supper tray. “See you in the morning, son.”<\/p>\n

Pat nodded, smiling back wanly. When the door closed behind his father, his eyes closed and he sighed sadly.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe glanced uncomfortably at the dancers, where even Hoss was having a good time dancing with Sarah Jane Martin, and managing not to step on her toes. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time\u2026 except Liz and him.<\/p>\n

“Liz, look, I don’t know what I’ve done to make you upset, ” he began, concerned and worried, “but I -”<\/p>\n

“Oh, I’m so sorry, it isn’t you,” she sighed, putting her small hand on his, “I’m just worried about something\u2026 someone\u2026.”<\/p>\n

“Can I help?” he asked gently.<\/p>\n

She sighed, a wry smile on her face, but even that faded quickly. “Not this time. Oh, Joe, I’m so sorry but it’s about Patrick.”<\/p>\n

Joe stared at her in surprise for a moment. “Not again! What the heck has he done now?!” he demanded angrily.<\/p>\n

“Hush!” she hissed, looking around. “Come on, let’s go outside to talk.”<\/p>\n

Joe angrily got to his feet and escorted her toward the door, stopping long enough for her to gather her wrap.<\/p>\n

“Now calm down,” she said, seriously, pulling her shawl firmly around her shoulders against the late February chill<\/p>\n

“Liz, I am so sick and tired of that kid and his tantrums and his moods and his attitudes! He’s a brat!”<\/p>\n

“Joe, please stop and listen to me!” she scolded. Joe furiously stared at his boot tips and forced himself to settle down. He drew a few deep breaths as Liz pulled her shawl higher around her shoulders and neck.<\/p>\n

“Are you calmed down now?” she asked quietly.<\/p>\n

He nodded silently, raising his head and staring out over the street. \u201cSo, what did he do in class now?” he asked tightly.<\/p>\n

“Not a thing,” she answered quietly, after drawing in a deep breath.<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s eyes swung back toward her, confused. “Then what\u2014”<\/p>\n

“He hasn’t done a thing in class because he hasn’t been<\/em> in class.”<\/p>\n

Joe’s eyes widened at her and his jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”<\/p>\n

She shook her head, looking down. “He hasn’t been in school since Monday. The last time I saw him was when I sent him home, sick.\u201d<\/p>\n

“But – but that’s crazy!” cried Joe, hands on his hips. “He’s been leaving every morning, coming home every afternoon – ”<\/p>\n

“He’s obviously been playing hooky,” she said helplessly. She sighed and stared up at the stars for inspiration then at the handsome young man beside her. “Micah Devlin brought in a note Tuesday morning, saying he’d gotten it from ‘someone’ from the Ponderosa,” she said. Then she chuckled, ruefully. “I can guess who the ‘someone’ was.”<\/p>\n

“What did the note say?” demanded Joe.<\/p>\n

“That Patrick had awakened that morning with a runny nose and a fever, and it looked like it could be measles. Several of the hands have it, don’t they?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah. Hank Meyers is real bad, Doc Martin says it’s pneumonia now,” affirmed Joe. Then he glanced at her, thinking, and he almost groaned. “Oh, no\u2026 He forged it, didn’t he? He signed Adam’s name?”<\/p>\n

She nodded, miserably. ” I couldn’t believe it when Mr. MacDonald told me he’d seen Pat in town today. He asked to see the note and said that Adam would never have written it on cheap paper with a pencil.” She chuckled sadly to herself. “Frankly, that never occurred to me. I suppose I’m so used to seeing papers with writing in pencil \u2026 ”<\/p>\n

“Oh, God, Liz, Adam’s gonna kill him,” breathed Joe, leaning back against the building.<\/p>\n

She nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, Joe. Adam has to know, and I think it might be best if you told him before he had to hear it from Mr. MacDonald.”<\/p>\n

Joe closed his eyes shaking his head. Adam would be so embarrassed. Angrily, he slammed his hand against the building. “What the heck has gotten into that kid?!”<\/p>\n

“He’s mixed up and upset,” said Liz quietly. “He didn’t want to go to school in the first place, and it’s been nothing but misery for him. He hates it. And that awful caning on Monday didn’t help.”<\/p>\n

“He’s fourteen years old,” said Joe sternly. “He’s got to learn that there are some things you just got to do!”<\/p>\n

She smiled tenderly, touching his arm. “Didn\u2019t you ever do anything stupid when you were fourteen?” she asked gently.<\/p>\n

Joe glanced at her, and blushed, chuckling. God Almighty, if she only knew!<\/em> He breathed in the cold air and saw her shivering. “Well, look, there’s nothing we can do about it tonight, anyway. Why don’t we just go into the dance and have a good time. I’ll tell Adam about it when I get home, if he’s still up. If not, I’ll tell him first thing in the morning.”<\/p>\n

Liz sighed, unhappily.\u00a0 She was disappointed in young Pat Cartwright, but just as much in herself for having been so gullible. \u00a0“Oh, Joe, I don’t know. \u00a0I don’t feel much like having fun\u2026 ”<\/p>\n

“Now, Miss Schoolmarm, school ended at three o’clock this afternoon\u2014”<\/p>\n

“No, it didn’t,” she said wryly. “Mr. MacDonald closed the school early today. Too many children are out sick with the measles. That’s how he found out about Pat.”<\/p>\n

Joe shook his head and chuckled. “You know, he might have gotten away with it if everyone else hadn’t gotten sick. Gotta give the kid credit, he plans a good prank.”<\/p>\n

Liz rolled her eyes but giggled despite herself.<\/p>\n

“There, you see? I knew you could remember how to laugh!” he grinned. “C’mon, I’ve been wanting to dance all night, and you, ma’am, have been standing me up. How about it?”<\/p>\n

Liz turned her ear toward the music and listened, hesitating, then smiled and turned back to Joe. “Mr. Cartwright, I would be honored.”<\/p>\n

They walked back into the dance hand in hand, and though Joe put a happy face on it, he was awfully worried about his young nephew. His older brother was definitely not<\/em> going to be happy.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick listened as his father and his grandfather moved around downstairs. He was frustrated when it seemed to take forever for them to come upstairs to bed. Usually on a Friday night, his grandfather would come to bed early but apparently with both Joe and Hoss out, he was going to be the good papa and wait up for his ‘boys.’ Despite his nervousness he had to chuckle to himself. He wondered if Granddad still checked on his father before going to bed!<\/p>\n

Speaking of that, his father tended to peek in at him to make sure he was asleep before turning in himself, and considering how emotional he’d gotten earlier, Dad was likely to put in an appearance tonight. Patrick pulled off his boots and his shirt and hung it up, leaving on his socks and his pants, and slipped on one of his nightshirts. He was just in time, too, because he heard his father’s and grandfather’s voices as they came up the stairs. He scrambled to his bedside table and blew out his lamp, diving into bed and pulling up the covers, burying himself.<\/p>\n

“Good night, Adam,” he heard his grandfather say warmly. “Sleep well, son.”<\/p>\n

“G’night, Pa.” He heard his father come down the hall, stop in front of his door and quietly turn the handle. Pat lay still, feigning sleep. His father walked in quietly and stood beside the bed for a moment.<\/p>\n

Adam gently reached out a hand to stroke his son’s hair.<\/p>\n

“Sweet dreams, buddy. I love you.” He stood for a moment, lightly caressing his son\u2019s cheek, then sighed and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.<\/p>\n

For a long time, there was silence in the room. Then Pat pushed the covers back and sat up in bed, pulling his knees up and, leaning his crossed arms on them, rested his head.<\/p>\n

“Aw, damn,” muttered Pat, scowling into the dark.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was just after midnight when Patrick finally made it to the Bucket of Blood\u2019s backroom. It had been nearly stripped by now, but there was a poker game going on, and Corrigan was in the middle of it.<\/p>\n

Eamon was pleased and relieved to see Patrick finally there at the door, fingering the brim of his hat, looking exhausted. \u201cDear God in Heaven, lad!\u201d he cried, drawing the boy inside. \u201c\u2019Twas beginnin\u2019 t\u2019 wonder if ye\u2019d arrive at all, I was! Lads, gather round!\u201d he crowed, an arm fondly around Patrick\u2019s shoulders. All activity stopped, as they turned toward the older man with an arm around the young son of Adam Cartwright.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Tis proud I am to welcome a new member to our midst! Padhraic Cartwright will be joinin\u2019 Michael and me in our trek east and back to Ireland!\u201d<\/p>\n

Every man in the room had been briefed and sworn to secrecy. It was difficult for some; they\u2019d been friends of the Cartwrights for years and knew that this would not set well with Adam. But their loyalty to their homeland was stronger. Many figured Adam would catch up with the three and regain custody of his son, anyway. It was a lark for the boy, and Eamon wanted it this way. That was good enough for them.<\/p>\n

Several of the men eyed the boy sternly, and Pat coldly returned the gazes. He glanced back at Corrigan. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I\u2019m late. I know it\u2019s past midnight, but I couldn\u2019t get away any sooner.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at\u2019all, lad, not at\u2019all,\u201d the older man smiled. \u201cMichael! Pour young Paddy a pint, if ye will! Lad, suppose ye get yerself into the game?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat glanced at the table, he found a few welcoming faces in the throng, relaxed a bit and looked back at Corrigan. Then he grinned, nodded and slipped into an empty chair, pulling out his small wad of \u201cpoker money.\u201d Even though his father had made it clear there was to be no more gambling, he\u2019d slipped in now and again to play with Lafe, the owner of one of the livery stables. Lafe was about the only one who gave Pat any kind of a real challenge at poker, and Lafe liked the kid. Both kept their secret close to the chest.<\/p>\n

Corrigan quietly walked over to the bartender. \u201cMichael, lad,\u201d he said softly, gesturing to him. The tall, lanky bartender came along side him. \u201cI want ye to keep the lad\u2019s glass full, don\u2019t let it empty. Don\u2019t make a big deal out of it and try yer damnedest to do it out of his sight. But see to it that he keeps drinkin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mike glanced at Corrigan. \u201cYou want the lad drunk, do ye?\u201d he asked, dryly. \u201cIs it not enough ye\u2019re ripping him from his family, ye want his da to kill him, as well?\u201d Michael had the good sense to blush under the severe scrutiny of his mentor. Sighing, the younger man nodded. \u201cAll right. It\u2019s drunk ye want him, then.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, I do, but not quickly,\u201d said Corrigan sternly. \u201cWhile under the influence, I\u2019ll manage to wrest from him a promise to help with the liberation of his family\u2019s wherewithal\u2026 then I\u2019ll put him on his horse and send him home,\u201d he chuckled.<\/p>\n

In the course of about an hour, Pat drank a total of about five beers without realizing it. He knew he was getting a bit tipsy, but it was so gradual that he was drunk before he knew it. Around one-thirty in the morning, Corrigan sat beside him again with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, pouring a shot; he\u2019d been surprised, thinking after three beers the boy would be out cold.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s drink a toast!\u201d he said jovially.<\/p>\n

Blearily, Pat set his four cards (he\u2019d insisted drunkenly that he could play just fine with only four cards, thank you very much) down on the table and swaying dizzily as he turned to the older man.<\/p>\n

\u201cA toast?\u201d he asked thickly. Glory, but his tongue didn\u2019t seem to want to work right! He giggled a little. It seemed remarkably funny\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, lad a toast,\u201d said Corrigan with a grin; it wouldn\u2019t be long now. He hauled Pat up on his wobbly legs and with his eyes gathered the other men up with him. \u201cHere\u2019s to Ireland, lads! Sliante!!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

With a Gaelic howl, the others at the table shouted their echoing toasts and each downed a shot of whiskey. Pat felt the shot glass pressed into his hand and frowned at it a moment. Then sighing, he desperately tried to raise the glass to his lips, but it seemed to go in the wrong direction\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cDamn thing,\u201d he muttered, bringing his other hand up to guide the silly thing to his mouth and down it. His eyes widened in shock as it felt like a fire erupted in his stomach. Coughing desperately, he wheezed in air, his legs turning to jelly. Corrigan immediately slipped an arm around his back and under Pat\u2019s arm to support him, grinning sadly. Poor wee amad\u00e1n,<\/em> he thought, you\u2019re going to be sick as a dog in the morning\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGood lad!\u201d he approved, filling the glass again. \u201cListen, Paddy, lad, there\u2019s something I\u2019m needin\u2019 to talk w\u2019ye about.\u201d<\/p>\n

Blearily, Pat nodded. \u201cSure\u2026wha.. whaddya wanna talk about?\u201d he asked, frowning as the room spun.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s a little matter of financin\u2019 yer trip, lad, \u201d said Corrigan quietly.<\/p>\n

= = = =<\/p>\n

An hour later, Patrick was completely and totally drunk. It had taken several tries, but Corrigan had managed to weasel a promise of theft out of Patrick. As expected, first the boy had balked, even inebriated, at stealing from his grandfather\u2019s safe. But as Corrigan hammered at him the amount of money Ben Cartwright had; the wealth the family possessed compared to the average Irishman; how easily that money could be recouped; how Patrick\u2019s allowance alone would support a family of six for a week in his mother\u2019s village; how many medical supplies, clothing and food that five thousand could support. After all the wheedling and persuading – and the alcohol – Patrick caved in and agreed to help liberate the funds from the safe in the wee hours of Sunday morning when Corrigan and Michael Nolan came to fetch him.<\/p>\n

Now, his promise completely forgotten along with most of everything else, Patrick was having a very hard time keeping on his feet, his eyes focused and awake. Corrigan had switched him from beer to whiskey halfway through the hour, and Pat was desperately finding the room swimming.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t notice that the room was now just about empty and had been for a while; the only ones remaining now were Patrick, Michael and Corrigan. Michael was aghast at the sheer volume of booze that Pat had consumed and was still upright, Eamon chuckling as he remembered the head for alcohol his old friend Paddy Riordan had had.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd now, lad, a toast to yer sainted grandfather. Lads, let\u2019s raise a glass to Padhraic Riordan, a true Patriot of Ireland!\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan eased the glass into Pat\u2019s hands again.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, I don\u2019 think I wan\u2019 any,\u201d protested Pat, shaking his head, and regretting it. He groaned, befuddled and fuzzy-brained, as the room spun around him.<\/p>\n

\u201cLad, for shame!\u201d scolded Corrigan, gently. \u201cNo toast to the man whose blood runs in yer veins? Yer sainted mother\u2019s own da?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat weakly looked at Corrigan and sighed. \u201cHe\u2019d be \u2018shamed o\u2019me,\u201d he frowned, nodding, and picking up the glass. This time, he was so inebriated that Corrigan, chuckling to himself, had to guide the glass to the boy\u2019s mouth with his own hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo Paddy Riordan!\u201d Pat howled, knocking back the whiskey in one slug, tipping his head back, and kept on falling backward, out cold, right into the waiting arms of Michael.<\/p>\n

Corrigan chuckled gently as he eyed the boy, now out like a snuffed candle, and lifted his glass. \u201cTo Padhraic Riordan, lad\u2026and Padhraic Riordan Cartwright!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201c \u2018 He was born and bred in Ireland\u2026.\u2019 \u201c<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, shut yer mouth, ye silly spalpeen!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2018Jack Duggan was his naaaaammmmee\u2026..\u2019\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Corrigan had ridden out with Patrick to the Ponderosa. Halfway out, the fresh air had revived the boy a bit and he had been stubborn about which way was home, lengthening the ride. Corrigan had to draw on every bit of patience he had and, by 4:30 in the morning, they were just a stone\u2019s throw from the Ponderosa ranch house.<\/p>\n

Pat had left Black Jack at home, sure that when Uncle Hoss and Uncle Joe got back from the dance they\u2019d notice him missing. It had damn near broken his heart to leave him, but he\u2019d had no choice. He rode out on one of the ranch stock, broken to saddle but nothing exciting and certainly nothing any of the hands would come out to check on. It was this plug that Corrigan was leading by the reins as he held Pat in front of him on his own horse, one arm securely around the boy. Lord God, don\u2019t let him start pukin\u2019 on me, <\/em>he prayed in desperation.<\/p>\n

Pat continued to sing at the top of his lungs, horribly out of tune and mixing the words to about three songs at once.<\/p>\n

\u201cDammit, Patrick, shut up!\u201d hissed Corrigan, as he dropped the boy to the ground, the boy landing flopped like a ragdoll in the dirt, laughing his fool head off.<\/p>\n

\u201cI fell off!\u201d he cackled.<\/p>\n

Corrigan rolled his eyes and sighed, dismounting. He hauled up the other horse, and thanked God Pat hadn\u2019t been heavier\u2026he was still quite a dead weight. The boy must weigh nine stone! <\/em>he grunted as he hefted the boy up into the saddle.<\/p>\n

\u201cPaddy! Can ye hear me?\u201d he hissed, shaking the boy\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n

It took a moment, but Patrick finally realized that something was tugging on his arm and he turned in the saddle looking for whoever was behind him.<\/p>\n

“Down here, ye fool!\u201d Corrigan grated.<\/p>\n

As the boy peered at him, fuzzily, Corrigan realized he had as much of Pat\u2019s attention as was possible, under the circumstances.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want ye to ride home now, lad, just around the barn and into the yard. It\u2019s sleepy ye are, lad, time to go to bed,\u201d he said firmly.<\/p>\n

Pat nodded. \u201cI\u2019m awful tired, Mr. Corrigan,\u201d he agreed, sniffling.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, you are, lad and a good night\u2019s sleep is what you need, but not until ye\u2019re in yer own bed, lad, understand? Will you promise me, son?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah\u2026\u201d nodded Pat, then regretting it. \u201cOwww\u2026. My head hurts\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ain\u2019t seen nothin\u2019 yet, lad,\u201d grimaced Corrigan, sending the boy into the yard. \u201cNow lad, be ready at midnight tomorrow. Michael and I will be fetching ye then.\u00a0 Can ye remember that?<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026 \u2018Member wha?\u201d asked Pat fuzzily, weaving dangerously in the saddle.<\/p>\n

\u201cMidnight, lad. Michael and I will be here at midnight! Say it!\u201d hissed Corrigan in exasperation.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026Oh\u2026 yeah\u2026 .mi\u2019night,\u201d agreed Patrick, giggling to himself.<\/p>\n

Corrigan sighed. There was nothing for it. He\u2019d have to hope Patrick could remember their talk from earlier that evening. Shaking his head, Corrigan steadied the boy one last time, then said urgently, \u201cSing lad! Sing for all ye\u2019re worth!\u201d And luckily Pat heard him, beginning a delightful chorus of The Whistling Gypsy,<\/em> singing it horribly out of tune but at the top of his lungs. Corrigan grinned; there was no way the household would sleep through that!<\/p>\n

He watched as the boy amazingly held his seat on the horse and made it right up to the damned porch. Dear God, was the silly spalpeen plannin\u2019 to ride the foolish horse into the house?!<\/em><\/p>\n

Sure enough, lamps were winking on all over the house upstairs. Corrigan sighed sadly. Oh, lad, after yer daddy sees ye, ye\u2019re goin\u2019 to wish tomorrow\u2019d never come.<\/em> He sat back to watch the fireworks.<\/p>\n

Patrick was trying to figure out what he was supposed to do next, while he sang. He was high up\u2026 on a horse? He giggled. Ridic’lous\u2026 well, o\u2019 course I\u2019m on a horse!<\/em><\/p>\n

The front door flew open and out tumbled Ben with a dressing gown wrapped around him and Adam struggling into his boots, shirt open and pants unbuttoned at the waist. Ben\u2019s eyes were wide as saucers and Adam\u2019s jaw damn near hit his chest as he stared at the picture before him.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick?\u201d Adam breathed, in amazement.<\/p>\n

Patrick slowly brought his head around to look blearily at his father. \u201cUh oh\u2026\u201d he mumbled. Patrick did his best to sit up straight in the saddle and promptly tumbled off his mount.<\/p>\n

Adam bolted forward, as Hoss and Joe, in various states of undress, hustled out the front door as well.<\/p>\n

Ben still stood on the porch with an absolutely black scowl on his face.<\/p>\n

Pat giggled on his back on the ground, looking a bit like a turtle, shell down and unable to regain his footing. He stopped giggling long enough to get his breath and stare up blearily at his father.\u00a0 Somehow he had the impression he shouldn\u2019t be smiling.\u00a0 \u201cHi, Dad,\u201d he said simply, closing his eyes.<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s look of terrified worry rapidly turned to fury.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re drunk!\u201d he declared, tightly, staring down at his son.<\/p>\n

Pat winced at the loudness of his father\u2019s voice. \u201cOww\u2026.\u201d he groaned, rolling over onto his side to try to get to his feet. He made it to his knees, but only after a great deal of effort.<\/p>\n

Joe groaned and closed his eyes, grinning ruefully as shook his head. This kid was gonna be dead in the morning; especially after what he\u2019d have to tell Adam. His father and brother had already been in bed by the time he and Hoss got home from the dance.<\/p>\n

Furiously, Adam grabbed Patrick by the waistband of his pants and hauled him up to his feet – Pat somehow grabbing his hat from the ground through a stroke of luck – and turned him around to face him. He closed his eyes, turning away, nearly reeling from the reek of whiskey and beer on his young son. He brought his head back to his boy, who was trying very, very hard to compose himself as he set his hat crookedly on his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cI really ain\u2019t so drunk, Dad,\u201d he said, very solemnly, trying to achieve a look of innocence in his bleary, bloodshot blue eyes. Adam sighed, shaking his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, you\u2019re not,\u201d he said grimly. Adam kept one hand on the boy\u2019s jacket and marched him over to the trough.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, Adam, don\u2019t!\u201d protested Hoss, miserably.<\/p>\n

But inexorably, Adam removed his son\u2019s gray Stetson, grabbed a handful of coat collar and plunged the boy headfirst into the ice-cold water to his shoulders.<\/p>\n

The wailing and sputtering that ensued almost made Corrigan give his position away from mirth. Oh, the poor wee lad,<\/em> he moaned to himself, weeping and shaking with silent laughter.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, I\u2019m drownin\u2019! Save me!\u201d Patrick wailed, arms flailing as his father pulled him up for air, then grimly plunged him in again.<\/p>\n

Joe was leaning weakly against a porch upright by this point, laughing so hard he was out of breath, earning him a furious glare from his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet in the house!\u2019 snapped Ben. \u201cNow<\/em><\/strong>, Joseph!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir!\u201d he choked, tears flowing from his eyes as he nearly collapsed in hysteria as he staggered back inside.<\/p>\n

By this point, Adam had hauled Pat to his feet again, shivering and alert, but still absolutely, totally, dead drunk.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess \u2026 I guess \u2026\u201d Pat sputtered, trying to focus on his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou guess what?!\u201d<\/em><\/strong> snapped Adam, furiously.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I\u2019m in big trouble now, ain\u2019t I?\u201d he asked miserably, and promptly passed out, caught by his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou bet your ass you are!\u201d growled Adam, as he picked up his boy, tossed him over his shoulder, and marched into the house with him.<\/p>\n

Ben stared out at the horse, where Hoss had quietly walked, planning to put the animal up in the barn and himself as far away from his older brother as possible.<\/p>\n

Bewildered, furious, Ben threw his hands in the air and stomped into the house, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake the rafters.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER FIFTEEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then whoosh!\u201d<\/em> laughed Corrigan, wiping his eyes, \u201cheadfirst, right into the horse trough with him!\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael, too, roared with laughter as the two men packed the last of their belongings. Eamon calmed down first, his chest aching with laughter as he dried his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cAhh, the poor lad,\u201d he sighed, shaking his head with a sad smile. \u201cHis head must be big as a house today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYe had to do it, Eamon,\u201d grinned Michael. \u201cHe wouldna have agreed ta help ye get that money from the safe had ye not. I wonder if he remembers any<\/em> of last night? And if he does, if he\u2019ll honor his promise.\u201d Michael grew serious for a moment, thinking. \u201cDrunk as he was, Eamon, it took an awful lot of convincing on your part to get him to agree. He may back out on ye.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019ll not renege on a promise, Michael,\u201d said Eamon, with a grunt. \u201cHis Riordan blood wouldn\u2019t allow it, even if his Orange blood did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, Eamon, he\u2019s stubborn, is that one. Will he be able to forgive you, or himself, for thievin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d sighed Eamon, \u201che\u2019ll get over it, I\u2019m thinkin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo ye, now?\u201d asked Michael, thoughtfully. \u201cSure, and he drives me mad, but he\u2019s an honorable lad, underneath it all.\u201d<\/p>\n

Eamon stared at his young prot\u00e9g\u00e9 in surprise. \u201cYe\u2019ve accepted him then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what choice did I have?\u201d grimaced Michael, a little irritated. \u201cAhh, pffft<\/em>\u2026 He\u2019s all right,\u201d the younger man conceded, with a small shrug. \u201cBut ye\u2019d better have a plan in place to keep Mr. High and Mighty Adam Cartwright from findin\u2019 us after we\u2019ve departed. Ye know he\u2019ll be lookin\u2019.\u201d Michael peered at his mentor, hoping the man could see that the boy\u2019s father wouldn\u2019t rest until he found his son.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, he will, to be sure,\u201d nodded Eamon seriously. \u201cThat\u2019s why I believe we\u2019ll be collectin\u2019 young Master Patrick a bit earlier than we planned. Try to get more of a lead if at all possible.\u201d Eamon glanced around the room. \u201cAre ye finished w\u2019 yer packin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye. We\u2019ll ship the bulk of it, and ride out tonight. After\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter we\u2019ve liberated Mr. Bloody Orange Cartwright of his five thousand dollars,\u201d declared Eamon, darkly.<\/p>\n

Michael silently studied the older man. \u201cY\u2019know, we\u2019d best be hidin\u2019 in the hills, I\u2019m thinkin\u2019, before Cartwright finds out exactly how his little angel got himself addle-pated last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

“Not a bad idea, that,\u201d nodded Corrigan, tossing the last of his things into the carpet bag. \u201cGet the horses, , and we\u2019ll ride out to the shack we found near that lake. We can hide out there for the day, and then tonight, after the … visit… to the Ponderosa, \u2018tis on our way toward San Francisco we\u2019ll be.\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael nodded, his face still reflecting his concern. He\u2019d done his own soul-searching in the last day or two and had decided, no matter what, he\u2019d stick by Corrigan, and Eamon knew it. He was not unaware of the risk in taking the boy along as hostage, in a manner of speaking, \u00a0would present.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t fret, Michael,\u201d said Corrigan gently, squeezing the younger man\u2019s shoulder. \u201cT\u2019will all work out. I promise ye.\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael sighed and seriously eyed the old Fenian. \u201cI hope so. For your sake, \u00a0for mine \u00a0and for the lad\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n

Eamon was left staring thoughtfully after his younger friend, hoping to God his promise could be kept.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Breakfast was awfully quiet at the ranch that morning. After Joe had reluctantly shared Elizabeth\u2019s message with his brother, Adam\u2019s stony silence set the mood for everyone else at the table. Even Hop Sing walked gingerly around the table as he served quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben looked up from his breakfast at his youngest son, a baleful look on his face.<\/p>\n

Joe swallowed and glanced at Hoss. \u201cI know this probably isn\u2019t a good time to ask, but…\u201d he trailed off, uneasily pushing at the food in his plate.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, speak plain!\u201d snapped Ben, irritably setting his fork down.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d Joe nodded, gulping. \u201cHoss and I took care of the chores this morning. I know we were gone at the dance last night, but\u2026 well, do you have any problem with us going to the box social tonight, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

It was so absurd that even Adam managed to find humor in it.<\/p>\n

After a little laughter lightened the mood, Ben sighed and leaned back in his chair. \u201cNo, I don\u2019t see any problem with you going to the box social,\u201d he smiled wearily. He glanced over at Hoss and chuckled to try to get the worried look off his middle son\u2019s face. \u201cYou going to take someone, Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss Sarah,\u201d he said sheepishly, blushing a bit.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat sounds like it\u2019ll be fun for you two,\u201d nodded Ben.\u00a0 He picked up his coffee cup and glanced over at Adam and was\u00a0startled. His eldest was looking surprisingly pale this morning. He almost commented on it, then sighed, realizing he probably hadn\u2019t gotten much rest after their rude awakening just before dawn. \u201cWas Patrick still\u2014” began Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cSleeping it off?\u201d interjected Adam, dryly.<\/p>\n

Ben frowned, while Joe and Hoss exchanged glances, Joe\u2019s knowing and Hoss\u2019 uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, he was still asleep when I came down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s gonna feel rotten when he wakes up,\u201d smirked Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe deserves it,\u201d snapped Adam, putting his fork down. He realized he\u2019d lost his appetite and rubbed at \u00a0his forehead. He didn\u2019t exactly have a headache; he just felt like there was one waiting to happen. \u201cAnd it\u2019s about time that youngster got up and faced the music.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam rose from his seat and threw his napkin down next to his plate, starting for the stairs.<\/p>\n

Joe and Hoss glanced at each other uneasily, then Hoss looked in appeal at his father.<\/p>\n

Frustrated, shaking his head, Ben exhaled in irritation and got to his feet. \u201cAdam?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, please,\u201d Adam over his shoulder halfway to the stairs, knowing what was coming.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, just a minute!\u201d snapped Ben.<\/p>\n

Adam recognized the tone, and thirty-five years of training made him stop and reluctantly turn back, sulking impatiently. Ben almost smiled; how many times in the last week had Patrick given his father the same exact look? Softening his tone, Ben walked to his son, his head down. \u201cAdam, I want you to think about something.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam exhaled, staring at his boots. \u201cPa, I don\u2019t need a lecture.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, that\u2019s true. But at this point in time, I\u2019m not sure Patrick does either.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa! For God\u2019s sake, listen to yourself!\u201d snapped Adam, hands on his hips, his eyes blazing in his pale face. \u201cYou heard Joe this morning! The little monster lied, he forged my signature, he ditched school, and<\/em> he got himself royally, dead drunk! And I\u2019m supposed to go up there and pat his little head and say, \u2018Poor baby, it\u2019s alright?!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, that\u2019s not <\/em>what I\u2019m saying,\u201d snapped Ben, sternly, hands planted on his hips and black brows knit into one line of bulwark across his forehead. \u00a0\u00a0He closed his eyes, drew in an irritated breath, attempting to keep his own temper under control and counted to five. Once back under control, he opened those dark eyes, and they bored right into the hardwood that he imagined to be his eldest son’s head. \u201cWhat I am<\/em> saying is that he\u2019s going to be miserable for the next few hours, and I don\u2019t think you\u2019re really going to get through to him in the state he\u2019ll be in.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam started to retort, then stopped as his father\u2019s words sank in. Abruptly he shut his mouth, then scowled down at the floor, furious. Dammit\u2026 he\u2019s right.\u00a0 Isn\u2019t he always?!<\/em><\/p>\n

He slowly raised his eyes and almost nailed his father to the wall with them. \u201cAll right, I see your point. He can sleep for this morning, but so help me God, he\u2019s going to get his sorry butt out of bed for chores this afternoon, and then I\u2019m going to give him a tanning he\u2019ll never forget!\u201d<\/p>\n

And with those ominous words, old Ironpants marched up the stairs to his son\u2019s bedroom.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There was somebody bangin\u2019 \u00a0an anvil someplace… God, it was loud… And there was also somebody groanin\u2019 fit to die.<\/em><\/p>\n

His eyes felt as though they were glued shut, and something was sittin\u2019 on \u2018em, they were so heavy to open. To hell with it. He\u2019d keep \u2018em closed for now.<\/p>\n

Slowly, sensation came back to Patrick, and he\u2019d have preferred it hadn\u2019t. That anvil was inside his head, and it was getting louder by the moment. And the person groaning was him. Jaysus, but my head hurts!<\/em><\/p>\n

He moaned, afraid to move. He stopped making noise, only because the sound grated on his ears like chalk on a blackboard. It even hurt to breathe. \u201cI\u2019m gonna die,\u201d he moaned in a tiny whisper.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you\u2019re not,\u201d said a voice nearby, making him wince again, slowly bringing his shaking hands up to his head. Though the voice had been quite soft, it felt as though whoever it was had blared the words in his ear.<\/p>\n

\u201cOwwwwwww…\u201d<\/em> he whispered miserably. Slowly, he felt more of himself coming together, and the more that arrived the worse he felt. He winced and tried to open his eyes again. After a mighty effort he succeeded, then slammed them shut again, whimpering in pain.<\/p>\n

Pat heard what sounded like a stupendous waterfall in his ear and flinched again.<\/p>\n

Adam quietly dipped a cloth in the basin of cold water on Pat\u2019s night table and squeezed it out, folded it and placed it on the boy\u2019s forehead. He shook his head with a dour smile, and sighed.<\/p>\n

The cold cloth made his headache a fraction of a bit better and Pat shakily raised a hand to his eyes to block the light from his eyes, then, wincing, tried to open them again. It hurt abysmally, but he made a gargantuan effort and tried hard to focus. A blurry, fuzzy figure sat in a chair at the side of the bed. With a little more effort and patience the blur came into focus and Patrick saw that \u00a0it was his father sitting there, with a knowing look on his face.<\/p>\n

\u201cFeel like hell, do you?\u201d he asked, softly sarcastic.<\/p>\n

Pat groaned again, closing his eyes. \u201cWha\u2019 happened to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t tell me you don\u2019t remember,\u201d said his father dryly, an eyebrow cocked.<\/p>\n

Right now, Pat\u2019s head ached so badly he couldn\u2019t think at all, much less remember anything. But it didn\u2019t take long. Suddenly memories of singing songs of Irish rebellion crept into his agonized awareness; then recollections of a swift, cold dunk in icy water made him groan again, shivering.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, God…\u201d he whispered, closing his eyes against the dark, cold ones staring at him so sternly. He was<\/em> gonna die….or wish he could. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he moaned… oh, Jaysus<\/strong>, was he sorry!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201c \u2018Sorry\u2019 doesn\u2019t quite cut it, does it?\u201d asked Adam, quietly, eyeing his boy.<\/p>\n

Pat tried to offer a better apology, then clamped his mouth shut as the room started to spin around him. \u201cOoh,\u201d he whispered through gritted teeth, squeezing shut his eyes, gulping hard. Shakily, he tried to reach out to hold onto something, desperate to grasp something in the room that wasn\u2019t moving.<\/p>\n

Adam, alarmed, could see what was coming and quickly got to his feet getting the wash basin from the dry sink in the corner.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad…. \u201d Patrick panted desperately, struggling to sit up, fighting the nausea, but he had trouble figuring out which way was up. \u201cGonna be sick…\u201d he groaned, trying to swallow. Finally, it didn\u2019t matter anymore. \u201cDad…..?\u201d he whimpered in agony, again reaching out a hand blindly to find his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I know,\u201d said Adam grimly, quickly getting the basin under him. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Adam sighed and gently supported Pat\u2019s forehead with one hand\u00a0 and held the basin with the other. Pat was unable to do much more than make miserable little mewling sounds in between his violent sessions of retching and heaving, trembling hard all over and soaked in sweat. He couldn\u2019t talk, he couldn\u2019t think. is whole existence was focused on emptying the contents of his stomach. His head hammered with each heave, but he didn\u2019t care. His body was fighting the battle, and he was just stuck going along for the ride. He was so sick he couldn\u2019t even cry.<\/p>\n

Adam shifted his position to better support Pat\u2019s head; he could feel that the boy was totally dependent on him to keep his head up. Despite having been determined to be angry, Adam felt a pang of sympathy.<\/p>\n

Pat cried out, leaning over the basin again, except that now the heaves were dry; there was nothing left to bring up.<\/p>\n

\u201cTry to relax,\u201d said Adam softly, bracing him. \u2018Take deep breaths.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c… so\u2026..sick\u2026..\u201d\u00a0 Pat whimpered, gripping his father\u2019s arm desperately.<\/p>\n

Adam gave up on being stern and severe; in all likelihood the poor kid was still drunk, considering how totally loaded he\u2019d been when he arrived home earlier. Adam waited until it appeared that the boy\u2019s stomach had settled down a little, then eased Pat slowly back down on the bed, while the boy cried out in pain as his head protested being shifted in position. Pat shakily raised his arms and wrapped them around his head in total misery, as if he were afraid it would fly away\u2026or actually wished it would<\/em><\/strong>.<\/p>\n

For several long minutes Patrick lay still, biting his lip and making tiny sounds of suffering. He was completely unaware that his father had left the room for a little bit, first to empty the basin, replace it at Pat\u2019s side on the bed, and then to get a bowl of fresh, cold water. When Adam came back in, he found his son curled up on his side in a ball, his arms wrapped around his stomach and his face as green as an old cheese.<\/p>\n

Adam sighed, setting the basin down on the night table; even that slight sound prompted a flinch and a whimper from Pat. Adam dipped a fresh cloth in water and squeezed it out, gently wiping his son\u2019s face and the back of his neck, then he rinsed it again and folded it, placing it on Pat\u2019s forehead. Pat hadn\u2019t opened his eyes, and continued to pant, fighting the pain and nausea and the pounding in his head.<\/p>\n

Adam covered him with his quilt, which had luckily escaped being soiled, and sat back down beside him. There was no point talking to him now, the man realized reluctantly. Even if the boy heard him, there was nothing he could say or do that would make the poor kid feel any worse than he was feeling right now.<\/p>\n

Adam studied him as he lay there, pale and sick, and was reminded of the times he had been in a similar state from too much to drink, although he had to admit he couldn\u2019t ever remember feeling as ill as Pat was obviously feeling, and certainly not at the age of fourteen! Thank God, now that he\u2019d emptied his stomach, Pat would probably start to feel a little better soon.<\/p>\n

Over the next forty-five minutes, the boy didn\u2019t utter a sound, lying absolutely still, his breathing shallow, gripping tightly his father\u2019s hand for comfort.\u00a0 Occasionally, he pulled his knees up in pain when his stomach would spasm and force an occasional repeat of dry retching.<\/p>\n

From Pat\u2019s perspective \u2013 extremely narrow and limited – the only reality he had was his effort to stay as still as he could to keep from puking, and to keep his headache from escalating; when he remained completely\u00a0 still it was excruciating, but when he moved at all it was unbearable.<\/p>\n

Finally, Adam noticed the pattern of the boy\u2019s breathing changed a bit, and he leaned a little closer. Pat had at last fallen into exhausted sleep. Though one arm was still wrapped around his belly, the hand not in Adam\u2019s was relaxed. Adam removed the cold compress and saw his forehead was still creased in discomfort and shook his head with a sad smile. Poor little devil,<\/em> he thought, rinsing out the cloth once again. He stroked his forehead, making Pat sigh and shift in his sleep, but not waking. Adam replaced the compress, covered him up to his chin, and left him to finish sleeping it off.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Around three-thirty in the afternoon, Adam came downstairs, fully dressed for something, though Ben couldn\u2019t imagine what. In his current state of mind, Ben didn\u2019t figure he\u2019d be joining his brothers at the box social.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, I need to go into town for awhile. Are you planning to be home this evening?\u201d he asked, his forehead creased a little.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you remember? I\u2019ve got to go talk to Dave Shepherd after supper about that stallion of his he\u2019s putting out to stud,\u201d reminded his father, eyeing his oldest son. It wasn\u2019t like Adam to forget things. \u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019m fine. Just tired,\u201d Adam sighed. \u201cWill Hop Sing be home, do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said he needed to write some letters,\u201d nodded Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that ought to be all right then. Patrick will be going to bed right after supper, so he shouldn\u2019t have any trouble with him,\u201d Adam nodded. \u201cI just wanted someone here to supervise.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you need to go in? Is there something wrong in town?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d answered Adam, getting a little color in his cheeks again as he thought of the person he planned to visit, \u201cthere\u2019s just someone I need to see.\u201d And his mouth clamped itself shut, brows knit and face closed.<\/p>\n

Ben knew that look, and sighed.\u00a0 A prybar and about two hours would be needed to get anything more out that oldest boy of mine when he\u2019s wearing that<\/strong> expression! <\/em>He\u2019d have given a lot to know what was troubling the man but accepted the deflection Adam sent him.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe and Hoss already take off?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, they had to pick up their young ladies, and then get on to the social,\u201d smiled Ben. \u201cI\u2019m glad to see Hoss going with a young lady, instead of stag.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, Sarah seems like a real nice girl, too, Pa,\u201d nodded Adam, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. Adam had spent most of the day with one ear tuned to his son\u2019s room; he\u2019d been so weary he\u2019d tried taking a short nap after lunch but was too restless to relax. \u201cWell,\u201d he sighed, glancing at the stairs, \u201cI think it\u2019s about time I rousted up my young miscreant.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pat had slept like a dead man from the time his father left his bedroom that morning until the present. As Adam looked at him, he could see he was still pale; there was no doubt the youngster was still going to be suffering when he woke, but he didn\u2019t think it would be quite as bad.<\/p>\n

He walked over to the bed, and gently but firmly shook his son\u2019s shoulder. \u201cPatrick. Patrick! It\u2019s time to get up.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was greeted once again with a cacophonous groan, but at least Pat was able to move around a bit this time. Wincing, the boy put his hands to his head. He moaned, starting to turn over again, but his father firmly rolled him onto his back.<\/p>\n

\u201cUnh unh… nothing doing, sonny,\u201d he said firmly. \u201cIt\u2019s time to get up. You\u2019ve got chores to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, Dad,\u201d he protested weakly, \u201cmy head aches!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s no less than you deserve,\u201d said Adam firmly, hauling him up, wincing, into a sitting position and tucking a couple of pillows behind him, and allowing him to lie back a little and rest. After rinsing out the compress, and reapplying it, Adam pulled up a chair and sat down beside his son, leaning back and crossing his legs. \u201cSo. I think you owe me an explanation for last night, young man. And for the little bit of deception you pulled this week playing hooky, and your lovely try at forgery. This time, let me strongly suggest you consider telling me the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

Talking made Pat\u2019s headache even worse, but he could see that there was nothing for it.\u00a0 It was time to finally come clean.<\/p>\n

In somewhat confused jumble, Patrick haltingly put together an explanation, some of it honest, some of it a bit of blarney.\u00a0 It mostly consisted of him wanting to learn more about his Irish relatives by talking with Corrigan, of admitting he had been wrong to\u00a0play truant and hide out in the back room of the saloon.\u00a0 But he tried to make his father understand that he\u2019d been driven by his need to know more…about the Riordans, and about himself.\u00a0 When he got to last night\u2019s debacle, celebrating Corrigan\u2019s last night in Virginia City with the Fenians, he was careful to be sure not to arouse his father\u2019s suspicions about running away.<\/p>\n

As he spoke, Pat sincerely hoped he\u2019d feel well enough tonight to attempt it. In the process of telling his tale, he also remembered with horror the promise he\u2019d made; to help steal that money from the safe. His present physical misery luckily covered for the new waves of guilt that hit him as he recalled this promise made while drunk.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s confession required a few quiet, pointed questions from his father to make sense of some of it, but by the time he was finished Adam just shook his head in amazement.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat…\u201d Adam tossed his hands in air, giving up.\u00a0 \u201cGod almighty, Patrick, what am I going to do with you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d the boy murmured, resting his hands on his stomach which was still dreadfully unsettled. He felt so ill that he almost didn\u2019t care what his father did to him; surely he couldn\u2019t feel much worse than he did already.<\/p>\n

Adam looked at his son and his face grew very stern.<\/p>\n

Pat tried feebly, \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to lie to you, but\u2014” -\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t mean<\/em> to? This entire episode was one whole tissue of lies, young man!\u201d snapped his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew you wouldn\u2019t understand,\u201d muttered Pat miserably, hanging his head. \u201cYou probably never told a lie in your whole life!\u201d<\/p>\n

Startled, Adam sat back a moment. Then he just couldn\u2019t help it; he laughed.<\/p>\n

Pat winced, then glanced at his father in reproach, then away, heartbroken.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that what you think? That I walked through life without ever disobeying my father or telling a falsehood?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat shrugged uneasily, unable to look at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cSon, of course I made mistakes. Of course I lied! It\u2019s not something I\u2019m proud of. I\u2019ve worked very hard to make my adult life reflect my belief in honesty, even when it\u2019s hard. I always remember something my father told me, that \u2018the hurt you feel when you tell the truth is shorter and a little less painful than the hurt you feel when you don\u2019t.\u2019[1]<\/a> And don\u2019t kid yourself; there were more times than I\u2018d like to admit that I knew exactly <\/em>how much it hurt when I didn\u2019t tell the truth,\u201d he said dryly.<\/p>\n

Patrick slowly raised his eyes and studied his father. “You mean\u2026 Granddad\u2026.” he said tentatively, eyes wide. \u201cWhat did he do\u2026after he found out?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s face hardened. \u201cHe punished me. The same way I\u2019m going to punish you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat swallowed hard and shrank a bit. Here it comes\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cBut, right now, you\u2019re going to get up out of that bed, get cleaned up and dressed. Then you\u2019re going to do your chores. After you\u2019ve eaten something, you\u2019re going to bed. Immediately.\u201d Adam leaned in close to his young son, forcing eye contact. \u201cThen, tomorrow, Mr. Cartwright, you and I are going to have one very, very<\/em><\/strong> serious conversation. I\u2019m not going to get into it today, because I want you in a condition to fully appreciate it. Do you understand me?\u201d His stern frown left nothing to the imagination.<\/p>\n

Patrick held no illusions as to what form that little \u201cconversation\u201d was going to take.\u00a0 \u201cYes, sir,\u201d he whispered, penitently. In his guilt and shame, Pat forgot that he wouldn\u2019t be here tomorrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow get up,\u201d said Adam firmly. And rose to his feet and left the room.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Pat came slowly downstairs a few minutes later, stepping very carefully to nurse his headache, only to find his father dressed in his coat and hat, Granddad at his desk working, and Hop Sing dusting the tables in the great room.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s about time,\u201d said Adam severely. Pat looked down, shamefaced, and stuck his hands in his pockets. \u201cI\u2019m going into town for a while. Your grandfather is going to be here until after supper, then Hop Sing is in charge tonight. You will do whatever either of them tells you, is that clear?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Your uncles covered your work this morning, so you\u2019ll do all the evening chores.\u201d Adam glanced at his son, waiting for a comment, secretly pleased that there wasn\u2019t even a roll of the eyes. Pat merely nodded fractionally, studying the floor, very quiet and subdued. Adam picked up his gun belt and strapped it on, sniffling a bit. Annoyed, Adam reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and blew his nose. \u201cYou will stay in the house, or in the yard or barn. You are not to set foot elsewhere, understood?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded again. Adam studied him a while longer, making Pat uncomfortable, but the boy did nothing more than redden and shift his feet uneasily. Adam sniffled again and turned to the Chinese housekeeper.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter supper, he\u2019s to go straight back to his room for the night. If he steps out of line, you have my permission to use that wooden spoon of yours in any way you see fit.\u201d With his back turned to his son, Adam gazed at Hop Sing\u2019s calm, knowing face and allowed the edges of his mouth to turn up in a slight smile, and winked at the older man.<\/p>\n

Hop Sing nodded, not giving a thing away, glancing sternly at the boy, who was wilting a bit at the severity of his father\u2019s voice and words.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think they\u2019ll have any trouble, eh, Patrick?\u201d asked Ben, cocking an eyebrow at his grandson as he slowly walked toward the little grouping by the front door.<\/p>\n

Pat looked up, embarrassed, at Ben. \u201cNo, sir,\u201d he said quietly, glancing uneasily at Hop Sing.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo trouble. Otherwise, big<\/em> trouble,\u201d insisted the houseman, jabbing a forefinger at the boy. He harrumphed and returned to his work dusting and tidying.<\/p>\n

Ben turned back to Adam with a small smile, that faded into a frown when he saw his son\u2019s pallor. Adam didn\u2019t look any better than he had that morning. \u201cAre you sure you\u2019re feeling alright?\u201d he asked, studying him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine, Pa\u201d nodded Adam, a little testily. \u201cI won\u2019t be late.\u201d Putting on his hat, he fixed his son with a potent glare. \u201cYou behave yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded again, harder than he\u2019d planned and winced as the movement did nothing positive for his headache.<\/p>\n

Without another word, Adam turned and left the house. Pat quietly turned a bit toward his grandfather, unable to look at him fully. He was terribly embarrassed, knowing his crimes must be known to the whole family by now\u2026and that the worst was yet to come. \u201cI guess I better go start the chores,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you probably had better,\u201d agreed Ben, his own hands in his pockets as he strolled toward his grandson, \u201cor you\u2019ll miss your supper.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat winced, his face a little green. \u201cI don\u2019t think I\u2019m gonna want to eat much anyhow,\u201d he said, uneasily, as he dragged his heels to the door.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[1]<\/strong><\/em><\/a> From \u201cLove Me Not.\u201d Season 5 Episode 22, written by Frank Cleaver<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER SIXTEEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick found it necessary to stop occasionally in his barn work to go outside for a breath of fresh air. His stomach was still not entirely calm, and the heady odors of the barn were proving to be a challenge. Having to stop and start also impeded his usual ability to throw himself into his work and forget his troubles. Instead, he found himself thinking over and over again of his sins.<\/p>\n

What depressed him even more was the knowledge that he was leaving this place tonight\u2026and possibly leaving with his father believing him to be a thief.<\/p>\n

Patrick wearily leaned against a pitchfork as he struggled to keep his stomach in check, and thought about how to remove the money from the safe, and still keep his honor. I\u2019ll pay it back,<\/em> he swore to himself, eyes welling. They had to believe he would. Someday, after all this was over, Patrick would pay back every dime along with an accounting of the good the five thousand dollars of Cartwright money had done for his countrymen. Surely if his father and grandfather found out that their money had fed starving children, provided doctoring for ailing widows, kept roofs over the heads of families, and helped an entire people to gain their freedom, any anger or hatred they felt towards him might ease.He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the barn, praying for the first time in days. \u201cPlease, God, someday let \u2018em forgive me,\u201d he whispered brokenly.<\/p>\n

Should I just forget this idea of going with Corrigan? Should I just try to forget it all and try to make things right with Dad?<\/em><\/p>\n

He shook himself, and angrily swiped away at his tears, setting his jaw in a stubborn scowl that was so much like his father\u2019s. He couldn\u2019t back out now. He\u2019d been begging aloud for days, and to himself for months, for the chance to find his roots, to find out what his mother had felt was so important she had been willing to die for it. Finally, with the opportunity Corrigan presented to him, he had a chance to really<\/em> understand her as he\u2019d never been able to while they were in Hell\u2019s Kitchen.<\/p>\n

Oh, he\u2019d believed her. He did<\/em> believe she meant every word she said in defense of the Catholics in Ireland, he saw her fire and passion. He\u2019d just never been able to completely share it or comprehend it. It all had seemed so far away, and so bloody useless. The here and now, that was an issue to fight for, he\u2019d always thought. Not the plight of people dead and gone centuries before.<\/p>\n

When she\u2019d died, after the horror and the numbness, he\u2019d spent hours thinking of how totally unnecessary her death had been, how completely needless her solitary life had been. She had deserved so much more than she had. He saw her as so much better than he was because of her selfless desire to better the plight of the Irish, and to refuse to become the possession of a man whose ancestors had oppressed hers. All he\u2019d felt was the pain of rejection; his father hadn\u2019t loved him enough to want him.<\/p>\n

No matter what his mother had told him, it simply didn\u2019t make sense to a small boy, and so he\u2019d turned his anger and resentment onto the broad shoulders of Adam Cartwright, the man who\u2019d fathered him, and in his eyes, abandoned him.<\/p>\n

As he\u2019d grown older, Pat realized his mother hadn\u2019t lied to him; the man \u00a0who\u2019d fathered him knew nothing about him. But since he loved and adored his mother, there had to be a reason why she wouldn\u2019t have married this man. Pat reasoned he must have been a horrible person, treated her badly, or been an ogre of some sort. As<\/strong> Pat matured, he \u00a0found himself once again forced to shift his beliefs and ideas to fit a new mold.<\/p>\n

But then he\u2019d finally met his father and learned what kind of a man he was. Since August, he\u2019d found it almost impossible to justify her reasoning, and to believe that politics<\/em> could really have robbed him of a family. This man was no demon; he wouldn\u2019t have beaten her or thrown her in jail. He\u2019d loved her, so much so that Patrick could still feel the shockwaves of it, like the tremors after an explosion in the mines nearby.<\/p>\n

Pat put a hand to this cheek, frowning as he remembered the vicious slap that had nearly knocked him into the fireplace.\u00a0 Anger the likes of which the boy hadn\u2019t seen often from this complex man who was his father. He loved her, for sure.\u00a0 He couldn\u2019t have acted like that if he didn\u2019t.<\/em><\/p>\n

For these past few months, it had been difficult for the boy to avoid feeling angry and resentful every time he thought about his mother\u2019 defiance of the mores and values everyone else in the world seemed to live by! When all was said and done, it hurt him terribly to realize that her love of Ireland had ultimately proved greater than her love of him and his future.<\/p>\n

Now\u2026now he had a chance to understand it, to have his questions answered. Such as why she felt it impossible to raise a child with a father, just because his heritage was one of English blood? Why should it matter so much to her? To such an extent that she was willing to allow her child, and herself, to be exposed to hatred and scandal?<\/p>\n

Patrick was desperate to understand. Maybe if he understood, he could begin to forget the past and look to the future.<\/p>\n

So much rested on tonight. And the knowledge he hoped to gain set his resolve to go through with it. He would take that money. And he, ultimately, would repay it. Every last penny. And in the process he hoped to buy himself an understanding of the circumstances which had both created him and kept him a prisoner of one single word\u2026.<\/p>\n

Bastard.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam sat in Veronica\u2019s parlor, sipping a cup of coffee and resting his head back against the easy chair, closing his eyes. Almost unconsciously, he felt a tickle in his chest and tried a couple of gentle coughs to clear it. God, he was tired. It had been a hell of a night, he thought wryly.<\/p>\n

She came in with a dish of pastries, setting it down on the table beside Adam\u2019s chair and placed herself beside him, gazing at him. He looked so awfully pale and weary today, Veronica thought sympathetically, realizing how much Patrick\u2019s antics of the evening before must have taken out of him. She closed her eyes, thinking sadly of the news she must share with him and battling her own desire to curl up and weep. But it must be done; this couldn\u2019t continue. They would soon be caught up in a maelstrom they wouldn\u2019t be able to escape from if she didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, we must talk,\u201d she said softly.<\/p>\n

He opened his eyes slowly and wearily, looking down at her. He hadn\u2019t missed the beaten tone of her voice and wondered if she regretted Wednesday\u2019s picnic and what had transpired. He\u2019d felt a little guilty about that all week, even though they both had given in to desire and passion that afternoon.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

She sighed and rose to her feet walking to the fireplace and staring into the flames. She was grateful Wendy was caring for a neighbor\u2019s children tonight and wouldn\u2019t be home. She was also thankful that the Widow Hawkins had gone to Carson City to visit a friend. What she had to say could only said while they were alone. And she wasn\u2019t sure she had the courage, even now, in the best possible circumstances. \u201cI haven\u2019t been\u2026\u201d\u00a0 She swallowed hard, and clasped her hands together tightly.\u00a0 \u201cAltogether \u00a0truthful with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He studied her, concerned, but tried to lighten the mood. \u201cSeems to be the norm for me lately.\u201d He offered a self-deprecating smile.<\/p>\n

When she didn\u2019t smile in return, he realized this was really serious and got to his feet coming over to the fireplace with her. \u201cWhat is it, Veronica? What\u2019s troubling you?\u201d<\/p>\n

She inhaled deeply and turned to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have to stop seeing each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

Startled, he stared at her in surprise. \u201cWhat? Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause….\u201d She turned away from him again, firming her mouth and steeling herself for the barrage of anger she expected from him, \u201cbecause I\u2019m not a widow. I\u2019m still married.\u201d<\/p>\n

With her back to him she couldn\u2019t be sure of his reaction but miserably thought she could imagine it. Slowly she turned and saw disappointment and bewilderment in his face, his eyes glassy and unfocused as though in shock. \u201cI wish I could say this in a way that won\u2019t hurt you, but I can\u2019t. We cannot see each other any longer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is your husband?\u201d asked Adam quietly.<\/p>\n

She chuckled. \u201cHe isn\u2019t sure, these days,\u201d she said sarcastically. Then she bit her lip and turned away. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. That was cruel and unfair of me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid he treat you badly?\u201d he asked gently, misunderstanding.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d She cried, whirling on him. \u201cThat\u2019s just it, Adam, he didn\u2019t treat me badly at all! He was the gentlest, kindest, sweetest soul God placed on this earth. And it was cruel! It was so cruel!!\u201d Tears slid down her cheeks as she paced frenetically. \u201cI watched my dear, caring loving husband crumble before my eyes into a …a… something I couldn\u2019t recognize. Doctors couldn\u2019t understand it, couldn\u2019t help him.\u201d The tears continued to stream unheeded down her cheeks as she halted by the window, staring out. \u201cIn answer to your question, Adam, he\u2019s in an insane asylum.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s eyes closed and he shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been the next best thing to a widowfor nearly six years. My husband is no longer my husband, at least no longer the man I married. But legally and in the eyes of God, he is<\/em><\/strong> my husband.\u201d<\/p>\n

Confused, Adam got to his feet and walked toward her, though stopping himself a few paces away, to give her space.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not dead,\u201d she continued resolutely.\u201dHe\u2019s very much alive, and though his mind is no longer allowing him to be James Aloysius Carter.\u201d\u00a0 She turned to him, her lovely eyes welled with tears.\u00a0 \u201cAttorney at law, upstanding member of the Springfield, Illinois community, Wendy\u2019s adoring, loving father, and my wonderful husband. His body is perfectly healthy. He\u2019ll live for years. Dear God, I can\u2019t even have the peace of grieving for the husband that is dead to me!\u201d Her face crumpled in desolation and she buried her face in a shaky hand as she wept.<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s shoulders sagged as he exhaled, and rubbed his aching temples. He was having trouble taking this in.\u00a0 It seemed astonishing to him that every relationship he attempted to have ended in this kind of pain, this kind of deceit\u2026 or just ended, period.<\/p>\n

God knew loss had been his companion most of his life, but there had been moments of hope.\u00a0 Moments that he believed he might be spared the loneliness of navigating this world on his own.\u00a0 Siobhan.\u00a0 Regina.\u00a0 Ruth.\u00a0 Perhaps even Anne. Margarita, if she hadn\u2019t been spoken for already.<\/p>\n

Giving of himself was a vulnerability he didn\u2019t want to repeat ad infinitum. <\/em>It just hurt too much.<\/p>\n

Fearfully, Veronica looked back and him and her heart broke at the anguish she saw on Adam\u2019s face as he slowly eased himself down into the chair by the fireplace. She came to his side and sat at his feet, resting a hand on his knee. \u201cAdam, I\u2019m so sorry. Wendy and I came out here because I have an aunt in San Francisco who is trying to find me a position. She and Mrs. Hawkins were old friends.\u00a0 Aunt Margaret suggested that I stay here until she\u2019s able to get a position solid for me.\u00a0 I\u2019d be among friends and Wendy and I would be safe.\u00a0 And the Widow\u2019s asking price for my aunt was extremely reasonable.\u201d\u00a0 Her lips trembled and her face flushed with shame as she gazed at her hands. \u201cJim\u2019s and my savings are all but gone, and I have to support Wendy somehow. Aunt Margaret\u2019s letter came today. She\u2019s found me a fine position as a librarian. We leave next week.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam felt his old coping tool of removing himself from hurt through withdrawing falling into place, almost without him even realizing it.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Adam, I wish I could make you understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

He managed a small smile. \u201cI do understand, Veronica. Really, I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you don\u2019t,\u201d she said firmly. \u201cI know you\u2019re hurt, and I\u2019m sure you feel used. You must believe me, this isn\u2019t something I\u2019ve made a habit of. You\u2019re the first man in the six long years of this nightmare that I thought I could possibly make a life with. And after Wednesday, I seriously thought of going back on my faith and divorcing Jim. But I can\u2019t. I simply cannot do it and be able to look myself in the mirror or look at Wendy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what about you? What about your life?\u201d he asked, finally turning to her. He couldn\u2019t hide the anguish filling his voice as he entreated her. \u00a0\u201cVeronica, you\u2019re a young woman! You should have the chance to be happy, too!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Adam,\u201d she sighed sadly, reaching out and stroking his cheek. \u201cI was. With you, I was. But it was a fleeting happiness…one that was glorious when we were together, but which turned into unbearable guilt when we were apart.\u201d<\/p>\n

He swallowed hard, and cleared his throat again, frowning. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I made things more difficult for you,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

She gathered his hands in hers and gracefully rose to her feet, leaning over him and kissing him tenderly, gently. \u201cGod help me, but I\u2019m not sorry. What we had…oh, Adam, I will treasure it always, it will be something to get me through the hard times ahead. I love you very much, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked into her eyes as she leaned toward him. And he saw the truth there;\u00a0his heart nearly broke in two.<\/p>\n

\u201cGod, forgive me, Adam…but can we have something for me to remember…one more time?\u201d she breathed softly, her desire implicit in her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cVeronica…\u201d he groaned, shaking his head, \u201chow can I let you go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you must<\/em><\/strong> let me go, you know you must. We would never have a life together with Jim between us…but we could have one more short time together, that we could remember always,\u201d she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. \u201cCall me what you will\u2026 wanton … a slut…a brazen hussy,\u201d she said with a sad smile, \u201cbut I want you. I want you desperately!\u201d<\/p>\n

He reached out a hand to her face and shakily brushed away the tears. He felt miserable; he hadn\u2019t hurt this much in years, but he wanted her, too. Despite his pain and anguish, he groaned as his body responded to her touch, the sweetness of her breath on his skin as she kissed him, passionately.<\/p>\n

He allowed her to pull him to his feet and gently walk him to the stairs.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

After leaving behind instructions for the shipping of his boxes and cases, Corrigan and Michael rode out to the shack by the beach at Sand Point. Michael had been a bit disturbed to discover that someone had been there since they visited the site last weekend.\u00a0 However, Corrigan pointed out that they would only be there for a matter of hours, and then gone again, so it wouldn\u2019t be a problem, even if someone did show up.<\/p>\n

Now, as sunset dusted the mountains and chilled the ride from the lake to the ranch house of the Ponderosa, Corrigan thought about his trip here to the western part of North America. He pondered the remarkable irony of having to come so far only to\u00a0 meet up with Padhraic Riordan\u2019s grandson.<\/p>\n

He chuckled to himself thinking of how Paddy would have laughed out loud at the humor of the situation… Paddy always was the one to find the funny side of things and leaven the bitter taste of their daily bread of tyranny with a dash of laughter and self-deprecation. That was what made his men love him so. It was what had made so many, including Corrigan\u2019s own son, cleave to his ideal of peaceful means, for all the good it had done them, the sorry sods! Dancing at the end of a hangman\u2019s rope… Corrigan no longer shrank at the image; he\u2019d lived with it for nearly sixteen years now.<\/p>\n

Then, the man sobered as he thought about his old friend\u2019s grandson.\u00a0 Siobhan\u2019s lad. Truth be told, Eamon would have given a great deal to really take him along. To train him in the art of Irish insurrection.\u00a0 To hone his already burgeoning skills.<\/p>\n

If he was honest with himself, Eamon knew that, having the lad as part of their entourage wouldn\u2019t have taken away the pain of losing Sean. Nor would it rekindle any chance to glory in his son\u2019s potential successes. But it might have eased the agony somewhat. \u00a0For that\u2019s exactly what it still was, even now, almost seventeen years later.<\/p>\n

Still and all, Michael was right.\u00a0 Adam Cartwright would never <\/em>stop hunting until he found his son.\u00a0 Nor would he stop until he brought the man who\u2019d endangered him to justice.\u00a0 Eamon recognized that single-mindedness; how could he not?\u00a0 He possessed it himself, in spades.<\/p>\n

Well, then\u2026<\/em>\u00a0 The man firmed his lips, once again burying the dream of having a youngster at his side as completely as he\u2019d buried his lad all those years ago, still weak as he\u2019d been from his own flogging.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben watched his grandson throughout the afternoon as he dragged his weary tail through his chores. Ben had never let his sons see his amusement at any time they\u2019d come home the worse for too much alcohol, and he really didn\u2019t find Patrick\u2019s antic funny. But he was sympathetic to the boy\u2019s condition.<\/p>\n

Adam had told him, in frustration, about how Corrigan had invited the boy to the Fenian farewell. Ben had gently tried to make Adam realize the pressure that had put Pat under to attend. What fourteen-year-old wouldn\u2019t have jumped at the chance to be included with \u201cthe men?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben had chosen to wait for Patrick to finish his chores to eat. He had a feeling that his young grandson would need someone to talk to after the rough week he\u2019d had. He hoped that, at least. When Adam was Pat\u2019s age, he\u2019d been as uncommunicative as a clam, and pulling information out of him had been as painful and difficult as pulling a festered tooth. Since Patrick\u2019s arrival Ben had somehow managed to create a rapport with the boy. He prayed that rapport would put him in good stead tonight and let Pat get some of his feelings off his chest.<\/p>\n

He sat at his desk, smiling as he heard Hop Sing mutter and complain about the lateness of the meal, then raised his head as he heard the measured steps of Patrick coming in from the barn area. That step was tired and dragging.<\/p>\n

Patrick entered the house and quietly hung up his coat, removed his hat and gloves and rubbed his hands on his pants as he walked slowly into the great room, looking around. His eyes fell on his grandfather at his desk, and he flushed a little, turning away; he was still embarrassed, thought Ben with a smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll through?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d he said quietly. He was no longer confined to his room, he could sit downstairs for supper, but he still felt a bit queasy, and his head ached, making bed look awfully enticing. And what was to come tonight bothered him terribly. It made looking at his grandfather impossible.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you go let Hop Sing know he can serve?\u201d suggested Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cGranddad, I\u2019m sorry, but I still don\u2019t feel so good,\u201d he said uncomfortably. Between his guilty conscience and his queasy stomach, Pat wasn\u2019t at all sure he could sit through a meal at the table alone with his grandfather. \u201cCan\u2019t I please just go up to bed?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, young fella,\u201d said Ben as he came around his grandson and slipped a gentle arm around his shoulders, \u201cyou haven\u2019t had a thing to eat all day, and that may be part of why you\u2019re feeling sick, as well as your… condition of the early morning hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat gulped a little and looked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re going to have to try to eat something, whether you like it or not,\u201d Ben continued, more gently. \u201cYou need something in your stomach. Go on, now. Go get washed and tell Hop Sing we\u2019re ready to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sulking a bit, Patrick did at he was told. After washing his hands, he returned to the table and sat down in his usual spot, on Granddad\u2019s left, with a sigh. As he waved open his napkin and placed it on his lap, he looked around. \u201cBoy, it sure is quiet around here. I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever had dinner like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, the four of you in this house does tend to make for a bit of noise now and again,\u201d smiled his grandfather as he gratefully accepted his steak and baked potatoes from Hop Sing. Pat was relieved to see only a bowl of Hop Sing\u2019s good broth come before him, but still frowned a little at the thought of having to eat.<\/p>\n

\u201cFatha say you eat…ev\u2019y dlop!\u201d warned Hop Sing with a small smile at the boy. Pat made a face and picked up his spoon in resignation. Ben watched out of the corner of his eye, sympathizing with the youngster as he put a few drops of soup onto the spoon and slowly brought it up to his mouth, worriedly sipping. If he\u2019d been as miserably sick this morning as Pat had been, he\u2019d have been nervous about putting anything in his mouth, too.<\/p>\n

Pat sat still for a moment, staring at the tablecloth as though waiting to see how his stomach would react, and Ben grinned a little to himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cGranddad,\u201d asked Pat quietly, a few moments later, \u201cjust between us\u2026why wouldn\u2019t you help Mr. Corrigan?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben studied his grandson, eyes narrowed. The voice was dull; almost dead. No curiosity. Just a flat question. \u201cPatrick, I have trouble supporting anyone who is less than honest with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat winced, and looked away, setting down his spoon. \u201cWhat makes you think Corrigan is less than honest?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe came to Virginia City, claiming to represent a \u2026 faction<\/em> \u2026 in Ireland for the purpose of international financing.\u201d Ben glanced at Patrick to see if he was following.<\/p>\n

The boy\u2019s blue eyes were fixed on him.<\/p>\n

Sighing, he continued, \u201cInstead, I\u2019ve learned he\u2019s spent a great deal of time garnering funding from Irish miners\u2026mine owners,. businessmen. But never has he made it clear what the funds were to be used for.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick\u2019s face grew paler and his eyes snapped. \u201cIt\u2019s for freedom, Granddad. For freedom!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what does that actually mean<\/em>, Pat?\u201d asked Ben seriously, setting down his water glass and eyeing his grandson.<\/p>\n

Pat set his mouth. \u201cMedicines, food -\u201d\u00a0 he bit out, his eyes narrowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuns? Ammunition?\u201d asked Ben, seriously.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes!\u201d returned back his grandson, slamming down his spoon. \u201cAnd anything else we need to make the goddamned English get off our backs!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s eyes smoldered, and he struggled to keep his temper. What made it harder was that Patrick glared at him almost triumphantly. \u201cWatch your language! And what do you mean, \u2018We\u2019? \u2018Us?\u2019 \u201d he demanded<\/p>\n

Patrick glowered down at the table, drumming his fingers in irritation on the tablecloth.<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose Corrigan has convinced you that only way to gain freedom is through revolution?\u201d demanded Ben, sternly.<\/p>\n

Pat set his lips. He refused to be dragged into this. Not now. He shot to his feet, his face white. \u201cMay I be excused?\u201d he demanded through gritted teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you may not,\u201d snapped his grandfather. \u201cSit down and eat your supper.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t hungry, dammit!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s immaterial! And this is the last time I\u2019m going to warn you!\u201d said Ben, his eyes boring into his grandson. \u201cYou\u2019ll keep a civil tongue in your head or so help me, I\u2019ll march you into the kitchen and wash out your mouth with soap. Do I make myself clear?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick was dismayed. For the first time, he truly felt the power of Benjamin Cartwright glaring out at him from those dark eyes. This was a whole new side of his grandfather he\u2019d not really contemplated before. Suddenly, it was awful easy to see how his father might have tried to hide the truth of his wrongdoings. Facing this angry version of Ben Cartwright was more than a little daunting.<\/p>\n

His thoughts made him hesitate; one moment too long. In a flash, his grandfather bounded to his feet and was at his side, thrusting him harshly down into his chair. \u201cNow, pick up that spoon and eat! And don\u2019t move from that seat until I give you permission to do so!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat slowly picked up his head and stared furiously at his grandfather. Ben returned to his seat and fixed a cold glare on the boy. \u201cPatrick, pick up that spoon. Now.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Without a word, Patrick picked up the spoon and choked down his soup, fuming all the while.. And all the more sure that his decision to leave was the right one.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Joe, all\u2019s I can say is it weren\u2019t no fair that I ended up with the sorriest box supper of \u2018em all!\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe giggled as his older brother sulked on their walk from the grange hall down the street toward their horses, with his hands stuck in his pocket and a scowl on his face. It had been bitter irony for Hoss that he ended up bidding on a boxed meal that had less than half his usual intake of food. But then, there weren\u2019t many of the boxes that would have met Hoss\u2019 needs anyway.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Hoss, you know darn well that really good, rich food should be eaten in small doses!\u201d Joe chuckled.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt ain\u2019 jest that there weren\u2019t enough of it, Little Joe!\u201d snapped Hoss, rubbing his growling stomach, \u201cit was also some of the worst grub I ever et! I don\u2019t know how anyone could ruin fried chicken the way that woman done… and the pecan pie!! It tasted like… like linseed oil!!\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cYou been hittin\u2019 the linseed oil again, Hoss? Pa\u2019d let you have brandy if you\u2019d asked him nicely,\u201d teased Joe, giggling.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d had a wonderful time. He and Liz had talked and chatted all evening while enjoying the meal she\u2019d cooked. Sshe\u2019d told him which basket was hers, and he had no trouble bidding on it. She\u2019d made chicken fried steak, fried apples, and cornbread, and he\u2019d loved every bite!, while poor Hoss and Sarah Jane had to make do with their poor substitute for a meal.<\/p>\n

Sarah had laughed, and assured Hoss that the cooking wasn\u2019t hers! She\u2019d had to work and her aunt had prepared the basket for her.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, older brother, how about this,\u201d suggested Joe. \u201cIt\u2019s early yet. Why don\u2019t we go get a beer? I\u2019ll bet Sam\u2019d put together a sandwich for ya, and you could have somethin\u2019 to tide ya over until we get home.\u201d Now, with Liz deposited at her boarding house, he relaxed in his speech patterns, worn out with having to think through every single sentence he uttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, we\u2019re gonna have to do somethin\u2019 purty quick, little brother, \u2018cos my belly\u2019s startin\u2019 ta think my throat\u2019s been cut!\u201d snapped Hoss irritably.<\/p>\n

Joe giggled again and led the way toward the saloon.<\/p>\n

It was a busy night at the Silver Dollar and Sam was hopping to fill orders from those bellied up to the bar as well as keep up with those coming in from his barmaids. But it was a good night, for the most part. The only drinker in the place who worried Sam was the one over in the corner, and the barman was a little stumped as to what to make of him. Sam had sent one of the new girls over to him only to have her told politely but firmly to give him the bottle and leave him alone.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Sam!\u201d grinned Hoss, \u201cwhat\u2019s a feller gotta do to get a drink around here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe sidled up to the bar, too, and smiled at Sam, who glanced back at them and grinned in relief. \u201cHiya, boys! I\u2019m real glad you showed up, I was gettin\u2019 a mite worried about \u2018im.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss and Joe glanced at each other. \u201cWho?\u201d asked Joe, nonplused.<\/p>\n

Sam nodded toward the back corner and both brothers turned to look.<\/p>\n

To their amazement, Adam sat there, his back more to the door of the saloon, scowling into a glass of whiskey with a three-quarters full bottle beside him. He was very pale, with two reddish marks in his cheeks, his eyes circled and sunken as he sipped at the whiskey and stared out into space.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the – when did he get here, Sam?\u201d demanded Hoss, staring at Adam.<\/p>\n

\u201cI dunno, \u2018bout an hour ago, maybe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me that ain\u2019t his second bottle,\u201d breathed Joe, looking back at the barkeep in dismay. Could only an hour\u2019s worth of time end up with Adam drinking THAT much?<\/p>\n

\u201cNah, he ain\u2019t really drinkin\u2019 hard,\u201d said Sam, uneasily. \u201cHe just don\u2019t look too good to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss hadn\u2019t taken his eyes off his elder brother and knew something was very wrong. When Joe started to walk to the back, he halted him with a hand on his arm. \u201cNo, Joe. Let me, all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? What\u2019s the matter with you? I thought you were hungry?\u201d demanded Joe irritably. \u201cYou can get a sandwich and I\u2019ll\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Joe,\u201d said Hoss very firmly, surprising the younger man. \u201cThere\u2019s somethin\u2019 ain\u2019t right here, and I don\u2019t think you\u2019re the one to approach him right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, of all the\u2014” began Joe, indignantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle brother, drink your beer,\u201d advised Hoss, calmly, but sternly. \u201cI\u2019ll go talk to him. I don\u2019t tend to rile him the way you do. It \u2018pears he\u2019s riled enough for tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe muttered something and turned back to the bar. It was always at times like these that he tended to feel most like the youngest\u2026 and somewhat left out. There were times that certain things were shared between Hoss and Adam that he just couldn\u2019t be part of. In this instance he wasn\u2019t really surprised. Of all of them, Hoss or himself, Hoss was usually the one who could best reach Adam when he was in a bad mood.<\/p>\n

The hell with it! <\/em>he thought. If Hoss wanted to go back there and get his head bit off, that was his problem. \u201cGimme a beer, Sam,\u201d he sighed.<\/p>\n

Hoss picked his way back to the table Adam was sitting at and slowly came around the side, trying to get a feel for his brother\u2019s mood. It was true he was scowling, but he looked more sad than angry. And Sam was right; Adam <\/strong>actually looked pretty sick.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey… Adam,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

His brother started and turned, looking up. \u201cOh, hi. How was the box social?\u201d he asked quietly, sipping his whiskey. Hoss gingerly slipped into the chair alongside<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\u201cBeen to better,\u201d he answered easily. \u201cFood weren\u2019t the greatest, but the company was pleasant.\u201d He knew Adam had had plans for earlier this afternoon and evening but didn\u2019t anticipate him drowning whatever sorrows he had here in the saloon. \u201cWhat\u2019re ya doin\u2019 here, big brother?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam leaned back in his chair, clearing his throat and wiping his forehead with his sleeve. \u201cDrinking. What does it look like?\u201d he grunted.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like you\u2019re feelin\u2019 dadburned awful, that\u2019s what it looks like,\u201d said Hoss easily. Adam raised his eyes and glared at his brother, who looked back at him totally benignly. The days had long since passed when Hoss was that easily intimidated by his older brother. \u201cNow, either you\u2019re gettin\u2019 sick, which is what it \u2018pears to be, since I ain\u2019t seen nobody more feverish-lookin\u2019 than you look right now… or there\u2019s somethin\u2019 else on your mind. Could be both. But I\u2019ll betcha that rotgut ain\u2019t helpin\u2019 either your frame of mind, or the state o\u2019 your health.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Dr. Cartwright,\u201d muttered Adam, knocking back the rest of the whiskey in his glass and coughing… a hard, wracking cough. Damn cheap whiskey…<\/em> \u201cLook, Hoss, just let me be, all right? I\u2019d like to be alone.\u201d Morosely, Adam poured himself another shot.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well, you can be alone at home,\u201d said his younger brother leaning forward. \u201cYou\u2019re ready to clobber your young\u2019un for comin\u2019 home drunk last night… you plannin\u2019 on showin\u2019 him up?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam was about to retort, then turned his bloodshot eyes to his brother and saw the serious question there. Irritably, he thought about Hoss\u2019 comment. How could he punish Patrick when he went out and did the same thing? Great example he was setting for his son. And he hadn\u2019t had anyone trying<\/em> to get him drunk!<\/p>\n

Adam sighed, shook his head and managed a wan smile. \u201cAll right. Let\u2019s go home,\u201d he gave in, shoving himself to his feet. He was surprised to note how badly his head ached when he pushed himself up, and how wobbly his legs felt. He couldn\u2019t have had more than three drinks, but he felt dreadful!<\/p>\n

Hoss kept a careful eye on his older brother while observing <\/strong>his long, normally graceful and agile fingers shaking as he rested his hat on his head. Then, weaving a bit, Adam made his way toward the door determined to do so under his own power. Hoss could tell that Adam was really ill, even though his stubborn brother probably wouldn\u2019t admit it yet. In the fifteen years since Adam had been home from college, Hoss had watched his older brother – nearly dead drunk – pace a straight line from saloon table to the batwing doors.\u00a0 He\u2019d seen him fondle a saloon girl\u2019s\u2026 erm\u2026 flounces on the way by, without breaking stride.\u00a0 But right now, his elder brother was having trouble dragging one foot in front of the other to get to those doors and out into the fresh air of the street.<\/p>\n

Joe had watched the last of the exchange between his brothers from the bar, getting a little alarmed at the amount of glaring Adam was doing. His two older brothers rarely fell out with each other; that was usually a pastime of Adam\u2019s and his, with poor Hoss stuck in the middle trying to mend fences. He breathed in relief when his oldest brother pushed himself to his feet, and he, too, noticed an uncharacteristic wince as Adam\u2019s hand went to his temple, appearing to try to rub out the pain in his head.<\/p>\n

The three brothers met outside. Hoss stayed with Adam while Joe gathered the horses, and Joe looked at Hoss in concern; he wondered if Adam would be able to stay in the saddle.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, you got a fever?\u201d asked Hoss quietly as he came up beside his brother. Adam had stopped a moment while checking the cinch under Sport, leaning an arm against the saddle and resting his hot forehead against it, trembling.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah…. I think I do …\u201d\u00a0 came the soft response, and Hoss could hear the slightly rapid breathing. Hoss nodded and turned to Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll keep him between us, Joe,\u201d he said brusquely, guiding Chub around the side of Sport and nodding for Joe and Cochise to do the same. \u201cFever.\u201d\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cFor God\u2019s sake, you don\u2019t need to talk about me as though I\u2019m not here,\u201d Adam said crossly, coughing, hard. With his two younger brothers positioned on either side in case he started to topple over, Adam wearily swung into the saddle and headed for home.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The ranch house was softly lit and quiet when Corrigan arrived. He\u2019d left his horse out in the woods about a quarter of a mile from the house. He didn\u2019t wish to be heard, after all. And five thousand dollars in cash could easily be carried in a bag.<\/p>\n

A quick survey of the barn reassured the Irishman that Patrick was likely the only one home, except perhaps for the Chinaman. Pat’s mount, Black Jack, was the only horse in the main barn area.<\/p>\n

He quietly stole around the side of the house to the kitchen; the Chinaman was washing dishes in the kitchen and finishing the clean-up after supper, Corrigan assumed. He figured that was the likeliest place to enter. Corrigan watched the Chinese as he sang some heathen tune while cleaning up the kitchen. Silently, Corrigan eased the door open and slipped in, rushing silently behind the man and knocking him out with the butt of his pistol before the Chinaman even knew he was there. Corrigan caught the slight form in his strong arms and eased him to the floor. He yanked short lengths of hobbling rope out of his pocket and swiftly bound his hands and feet, stuffing a gag into his mouth and quietly shoving him into the pantry.<\/p>\n

Quietly, Corrigan stole into the main part of the house, listening intently. He heard footsteps above, a door shutting and steps approaching the stairs. He moved quickly for so large a man, to the side of the hearth, concealing himself from view, and hoping to God he hadn\u2019t misjudged.<\/p>\n

But, no; the footsteps belonged to Patrick Cartwright. His hands jammed in his pockets, and a despondent look on his face, Pat had come down the stairs, looking to either side, and quietly stole toward the safe.<\/p>\n

Eamon grinned to himself. He knew<\/em><\/strong> the boy would persevere! He knew he hadn\u2019t lost him last night! If anything, the drinking spree had solidified him as a son of Ireland. Corrigan watched as the boy studied the safe while squatting on his haunches.<\/strong> Eamon\u2019s heart caught briefly in his chest as he saw the boy try the handle, only to have it remain shut.<\/p>\n

But then, his heart began to beat again as the boy closed his eyes in concentration, then opened them and began spinning the combination mechanism.<\/p>\n

One time, that was all it took. Eamon grinned in admiration as the boy had steady-handedly opened that safe on the first pass. He heard the pleasing clunk!<\/em> of the tumblers falling into place and the squeal of the safe door as Patrick opened it.<\/p>\n

Patrick sensed rather than heard the movement behind him, and with his heart in his throat, spun around. He breathed again and sagged in relief to note who it was.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell done, Paddy, lad,\u201d said Corrigan softly. \u201cWell done, indeed.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben walked his horse back toward the Ponderosa slowly, grumbling in irritation. First, he has to put up with his grandson\u2019s moods and his mouth, now his own damned\u2026 darned<\/em> horse had to throw a shoe and go lame!<\/p>\n

Hopefully, Shepherd would understand. There was nothing Ben hated more than showing up late for an appointment or, worse yet, not showing up at all! He hated it done to him, and he abhorred doing it to others. Surely there\u2019d be another evening he and Shepherd could work out their deal of stud fees and times. The man certainly had an impressive stallion that had qualities that would blend beautifully with the Cartwright line.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s feet hurt by the time he was half a mile from the house. All he wanted to do was soak his feet, sip a brandy, and read a book by the fire. It was cold <\/em>out here!<\/p>\n

Ben found himself thinking again of his argument at the table with Patrick. Poor boy, he\u2019s awfully mixed up. Perhaps once Corrigan leaves town things will get back to normal. Pat and Adam have some significant things to sort out between them!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hoss set the pace for the ride home, careful not to go too quickly and end up unseating Adam from Sport but moving as quickly as he could to be sure they got home soon and got his older brother to bed.<\/p>\n

Adam slumped in his saddle, his fever already climbing to the point that he was a bit fuzzy. The world around him seemed out of focus a bit, and normal woodland noises were either muffled or unnaturally sharp.\u00a0 He knew he was holding Sport\u2019s reins, because he could see it, but had trouble matching the sensation of his grip to what he could see.\u00a0 It was all very odd.\u00a0 And he ached; muscles, joints, head, back\u2026 everything seemed to ache with a sharp bite.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Adam?\u201d Joe\u2019s voice was insistent, trying to keep his brother alert.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d asked Adam hoarsely, struggling to sit up a little straighter in the saddle and pay attention.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout last night\u2026\u201d Joe murmured uneasily. \u201cWhat\u2019re you gonna do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam was confused, unable to follow the conversation.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick?\u201d reminded Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2026 well, you were there, you heard me,\u201d he croaked, then coughed hard. He winced as the wracking cough made his chest hurt along with everything else.<\/p>\n

Hoss glanced at him and steered Chub a little closer, ready to shoot out an arm to support his brother if it looked as though he was going to fall.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2026well, you saw how sick Pat was this morning,\u201d said Joe, quietly. \u201cDon\u2019t you think he\u2019s been punished enough?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, please,\u201d groaned Adam, rubbing his aching temples. \u201cI don\u2019t feel like talking about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Joe\u2019s right, Adam,\u201d said Hoss, insistently. \u201cI mean, I remember the times you come home drunk and snuck in without Pa catchin\u2019 you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t fourteen years old, for Chrissake!\u201d snapped his older brother, glaring at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was only because there weren\u2019t no saloons around here when you were fourteen,\u201d grinned Hoss, knowingly. Adam was too ill to see the humor, or to argue.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust shut up, both of you, and let me die, will you?\u201d he grimaced, closing his eyes in discomfort and slumping again in his saddle. Hoss shrugged and glanced at Joe, who grinned, nodding; they\u2019d keep working on him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick stood before the older man, licking his lips, hesitating. When Corrigan had told him where Hop Sing was, suddenly the strength of his convictions was shaken.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re doing the right thing, Patrick,\u201d Corrigan encouraged.<\/p>\n

\u201cDidja think I was backin\u2019 out?\u201d snapped Patrick as he turned back to the safe and uneasily began unloading money.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t sure, lad,\u201d said Corrigan quietly, an eyebrow raised.<\/p>\n

The boy looked back over his shoulder. \u2018You didn\u2019t have to hurt Hop Sing, y\u2019know,\u201d he accused.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019ll survive just fine, lad,\u201d reassured Corrigan, glancing over his shoulder. \u201cNow, hurry it up, lad.\u201d<\/p>\n

Violence; just like Granddad said.<\/em> Was his grandfather right all along? \u201cCorrigan,\u201d said Pat, quietly turning and looking at the man, \u201cbefore we go I gotta write a note. They\u2019ve got ta know I\u2019ll pay \u2018em back.\u201d<\/p>\n

At first, the man\u2019s face was blank, then Corrigan\u2019s jaw dropped. \u00a0Eyes widened until the whites were completely visible around the blue irises, and his eyebrows climbed nearly into his faded red hairline. The man gaped in astonishment. \u201cPay \u2018em back!?\u201d he all but choked out, incredulous.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d nodded Patrick. Drawing in a deep breath and narrowing his eyes, he took the plunge, almost afraid of the response. \u201cAnd I want your word this money won\u2019t be used for guns or ammunition.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan eyed the boy, hesitant, then shook his head as if to clear it.\u00a0 Easy now, Eamon, ye daren\u2019t spook the lad, not this close to the finish line\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLad\u2026\u201d he began, uneasily.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. This ain\u2019t negotiable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan\u2019s dander rose as he heard the unmistakable tone: Paddy Riordan, all over again.<\/em> \u201cNow, listen here, lad. How that money is t\u2019be spent is not<\/em><\/strong> up to you,\u201d he said darkly.<\/p>\n

Patrick rose to his feet, his blue eyes dark and stormy, hands on his hips.\u00a0 Anyone knowing his father or his grandfather would have recognized the stance unmistakenly: a sure sign of a Cartwright just about to go off with a bang!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThen there ain\u2019t gonna be any money to worry about.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, enough o\u2019this nonsense!\u201d barked Corrigan, losing patience and striding over to him. \u201cGet that money in the bag, now! We don\u2019t have much time!\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick scowled and tossed the money back into the safe and whirled back to face the man. \u201cNo. Not without your promise!\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy watched the older man face almost comically rise in color, a dozen emotions from disbelief to fury dancing across his features.\u00a0 He raised his chin a bit belligerently, with a tiny bit of a sneer on his handsome face, arms crossed over his chest.\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s a lot of money, Mr. Corrigan. You don\u2019t want to leave without it, do ya?\u201d<\/p>\n

Corrigan stared at the boy in amazement. \u201cIs it daft ye are?! What\u2019s got into you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI want your promise that this money won\u2019t go to guns and ammunition, that\u2019s all,\u201d declared Pat firmly. \u201cThere\u2019s other things this money can go toward.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, think about what you\u2019re saying\u2026\u201d said Corrigan, a wry smile on his face. \u201cThis money can easily be diverted into other sources and buy whatever the hell Sinn Fein wishes. Did ye really think you could have a say?\u201d<\/p>\n

Slowly, Patrick lowered his head, then leaned over and firmly shut the safe with a clang!<\/em> locking the handle.<\/p>\n

\u201cYe damned spalpeen!\u201d sputtered Corrigan furiously, pushing the boy aside and reaching for the handle, without result. He whirled on the boy. \u201cOpen it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d It was a flat refusal, and Pat\u2019s black brows knit together over steely blue eyes and a scowl.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, open the safe. Now!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d snapped back Pat. \u201cWithout your promise, I-\u201d He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening.<\/p>\n

Cold, gunmetal grey steel was pointed directly at his middle.<\/p>\n

\u201cPadhraic, open the safe,\u201d stated<\/strong> Corrigan coldly. \u201cNow. I\u2019m sorry, lad, but I don\u2019 have time t\u2019deal wi\u2019 yer childishness.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick swallowed hard as he stared at the barrel and wished to God he\u2019d gone to bed as he\u2019d been told.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben finished putting up Buck and wearily trudged his way to the house. He was surprised to note all the lamps were lit. It had to be past ten o\u2019clock. He shook his head. He\u2019d have to speak to Hop Sing. Lamp oil costs good money.<\/em> With no one home but Hop Sing and Patrick there was no need for that kind of waste!<\/em><\/p>\n

He hoped that Patrick had obeyed his father and gone to bed. Ben was in no mood to be dealing with a stubborn boy tonight! Considering the amount of trouble that young man was in, Ben found it remarkable that he\u2019d been so difficult at supper. When was that fool of a boy going to learn when it was wise to keep his mouth shut?<\/em><\/p>\n

Thoroughly out of sorts, Ben stalked up almost onto the front door porch, then stopped short and glanced down at his dirty clothes and muddy boots.\u00a0 He sighed. He\u2019d best go in through the wash house and remove his filthy gear or Hop Sing would give him a hard time he didn\u2019t need tonight.<\/p>\n

Grumbling to himself, he walked around toward the kitchen door, wondering exactly who was in charge in this house!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cYe heard me, open the safe, lad,\u201d said Corrigan testily. \u201cEnough o\u2019 this nonsense. I – we<\/em> have a boat to catch.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat hesitated, brow furrowed in worry, licked his lips, then sagged, unable to figure out any other way out.\u00a0 He gave in; the pistol pointing at his middle helped foster his decision. Slowly he turned back to the safe and dialed the combination.<\/p>\n

Just as he pulled the latch on the safe, he jumped as he heard the unmistakable growl of his grandfather\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick Cartwright, step away from that safe!\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick whirled in shock, eyes wide, and saw his grandfather in the odd position of holding a gun on Corrigan while in his stockinged feet. Pat glanced quickly at Corrigan and his heart stopped. The Irishman had quickly sidestepped beside the boy, his gun trained on the older Cartwright but kept the youngster within reach. \u201cA good evenin\u2019 to ye, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d smiled Corrigan, his easy expression belying his stanced: \u00a0his weight was balanced evenly between both legs, knees just slightly bent, and his body appeared as if coiled, ready to spring forward if needed.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, I told you to step away,\u201d declared Ben sternly.<\/p>\n

The boy wavered, scared, peering uncertainly at Corrigan, who smiled in triumph. \u201cStay where ye are, lad,\u201d replied the Irishman calmly, not taking his eyes off his opponent. \u201cAs ye can see, Cartwright, he\u2019s realized that his allegiance lies with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s mind rapidly ran through comments and events of the last few days and realized that this had been the plan all along. Corrigan had nurtured this \u2018relationship\u2019 with Patrick in order to make the contents of the safe his. He nodded, his eyes black with fury. \u201cSo, you\u2019re not above using children to get your way, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

No longer bluff with scorn, Pat was beginning to get scared.\u00a0 His face pale, his eyes continuously darting back and forth between the gun in Corrigan\u2019s hand and at his grandfather, Patrick tried to step toward him but immediately halted as Corrgian emitted allow growl.\u00a0 Once again, licking his dry lips, Pat muttered, \u201cGranddad\u2026\u201d uneasily.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuiet, lad, I\u2019ll handle this,\u201d ordered Corrigan quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Hop Sing?\u201d demanded Ben, his eyes darting around the room, though not moving his stance at all.<\/p>\n

Pat swallowed hard. \u201cCorrigan tied him up in the pantry,\u201d he admitted unhappily.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, gather the money out that safe and put it into the bag, as I told ye before.\u201d Corrigan\u2019s voice was cold as ice.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, Ben\u2019s eyes widened as he realized exactly what was going on here, though he kept his pistol trained on the other man. He had seen the speed with which Corrigan had recovered and turned his gun on Ben; it had surprised him, considering the other man\u2019s age and bulk. Like Hoss, Corrigan could move fast when he had to.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Pat,\u201d he breathed quietly, sorrowfully.<\/p>\n

\u201cGranddad, you gotta understand,\u201d begged Pat miserably. \u201cI was gonna write a note, and leave it there on your desk – \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick! The money! Now!\u201d insisted Corrigan sternly.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do it, Pat,\u201d said Ben quietly, his eyes not leaving Corrigan\u2019s face and hands. \u201cYou can see how far he\u2019ll go to win, Pat. You\u2019re better than this!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t listen to him, lad!\u201d snapped Corrigan, cocking the hammer on the pistol.<\/p>\n

Pat nearly lunged forward, but stopped himself just in time. \u201cNo!\u201d he gasped, caught in an agony of fear. \u00a0He whirled on Corrigan, pleading. \u201cDon\u2019t!\u00a0 Don\u2019t shoot him!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook at him, Pat! He\u2019s willing to kill! Are you?\u201d demanded Ben. \u201cToday, he\u2019s asking you to go against everything your mother and father taught you! He wants you to steal! How much longer before he demands that you become a killer?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019ll be no killing here if the boy is wise and obeys me!\u201d snapped Corrigan, angrily.<\/p>\n

\u201cToday! There\u2019ll be no killing today<\/em>!\u201d pounded Ben, his voice dripping with cold ruthlessness. \u201cWhat about tomorrow? Or the next day! Are you willing to take that chance, Pat? Is that what your mother wanted for you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick swallowed hard, panting, his his heart hammering, and looked desperately between these two men. His hands flew to his head, then lowered them in a panic as he saw Corrigan start with his movement, baring his teeth in a grimace. \u00a0\u00a0The boy twisted his frantic hands in the tail of his shirt, as though they had a mind of their own, crumpling the cotton. This had gone so much further than he\u2019d thought it would.<\/p>\n

\u201cPadhraic<\/em>, lad, remember what I told you.\u201d\u00a0 At the sudden change in the Irishman\u2019s tone Pat\u2019s head snapped around, surprised, thrown off even further.\u00a0 Gone was the sternness, replaced with an almost beseeching tone, smooth, as though Corrigan and Patrick were the only two in the room. \u201cRemember<\/em><\/strong>, lad.\u00a0 That money will make possible life<\/em>\u2026 life for hundreds of your<\/em> countrymen!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo! That money will be used to kill<\/em>, Patrick!\u201d implored Ben, desperation entering his tone, wishing to God he could catch his grandson\u2019s eyes, but know he was dead if so much as blinked away from Corrigan\u2019s gaze.<\/p>\n

Both guns were steady, but Pat\u2019s resolve was wavering hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know!\u201d he cried, glancing feverishly between the two men: \u00a0his grandfather, and his grandfather that could have been. \u201cI don\u2019t know what to do!\u201d Mouth trembling, he wanted so badly to obey Ben, but the boy was terrified that he could do something that would enrage Corrigan, and end up putting his grandfather down like a rabid dog.<\/p>\n

\u201cTrust me, lad!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben opened his mouth to rejoin but really heard the torment in his grandson\u2019s voice.\u00a0 He understood; Patrick didn\u2019t know how to obey him and <\/em><\/strong>not be the cause of possibly getting him killed.\u00a0 And Ben found he just couldn\u2019t do it. Five thousand dollars simply wasn\u2019t worth his grandson\u2019s safety.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick! Look at me!\u201d he barked, praying that the seven months here had meant something.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s eyes jerked to his grandfather, his blue eyes glistening with frightened tears. He didn\u2019t feel like a man anymore; he felt like a scared kid who desperately wanted someone to tell him what to do.<\/p>\n

\u201cSon, I\u2019m lowering the gun,\u201d said Ben carefully, his actions matching his words, as he watched Corrigan carefully.<\/p>\n

\u201cGranddad! No!\u201d cried Pat, glancing back at Corrigan in terror and shifted fast to the side so that he could see both men, implore both men to stop this.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour safety means more to me than that money, Patrick,\u201d said Ben firmly, setting the gun carefully down on the sofa table at his side.<\/p>\n

Then Corrigan made his fatal error.<\/p>\n

He allowed his expression to dissolve into a feral grin, his triumph over Ben Cartwright clearly showing. A grim scowl fell over Ben\u2019s face in reaction but he didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n

Patrick, however, saw Corrigan\u2019s look, too. His expression shifted astonishingly fast from fear to one of absolute fury. There was nothing left to decide.<\/p>\n

Without thinking, the boy lunged hard, knocking Corrigan back. In pure reaction, Corrigan squeezed the trigger.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHang in there, Adam,\u201d said Hoss, encouragingly, \u201cwe\u2019re almost home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d muttered his older brother hoarsely. \u201cI don\u2019t know how much longer I can stay upright.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you feel like you\u2019re gonna fall, say something,\u201d said Joe, worriedly.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I feel like I\u2019m gonna fall,\u201d Adam croaked irritably, \u201cI\u2019d probably pass out before I could say anything<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe immediately moved a little closer to his older brother, concerned. Adam noticed the movement and smiled weakly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m alright, Joe,\u201d he sighed. \u201cI\u2019ll make it, don\u2019t worry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t worried,\u201d snorted Joe. \u201cBut you look like you are.\u201d<\/p>\n

All three managed a small chuckle at that one. Hoss picked up the pace a little, anxious to get Adam home.<\/p>\n

The three brothers were no more than half a mile from home when they heard the report of a gun from the direction of the house.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell?\u201d demanded Joe, staring at his brothers.<\/p>\n

Sick as Adam was, he kicked his horse into a gallop and led the charge to investigate. What in God\u2019s name has my impossible son got himself into now?!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick slammed Corrigan\u2019s gun arm up and the bullet harmlessly discharged into the broad beams of the Ponderosa\u2019s great room ceiling. The boy had pushed the bigger man off balance, but one hard swing had clipped the boy with a vicious slap that sent him sprawling into the grandfather clock, smacking his head and dropping him like a rock.<\/p>\n

Cursing his grandson\u2019s recklessness under his breath, Ben reacted like lightning and took the tiny chance that the boy\u2019s lunge offered. He was on Corrigan in a moment, his powerful shoulders and arms attempting to pin down the Irishman.\u00a0 He was honestly shocked by the strength the other man possessed as the two tussled, rolling on the floor, overturning furniture, setting a lamp \u2013 thankfully unlit! – and small bric-a-brac tumbling and smashing to the floor. Corrigan\u2019s teeth bared as he did his level best to bring the gun up between them.<\/p>\n

Pat pushed himself dizzily to his knees. He raised his swimming head, and his eyes widened as he saw the struggle before him. The two older men were evenly matched and supremacy seemed to waver between them.<\/p>\n

Just as Ben thought the man might pull it off he summoned one last surge of strength rolled them over again, with him on top and simultaneously gripping Corrigan\u2019s gun hand.<\/p>\n

Pat shook his head again to clear it and looked straight ahead trying to latch onto something to focus; his eye fell suddenly on the pistol his grandfather had set on the sofa table. Without thinking, he made a mad dash for it.<\/p>\n

Corrigan was on his back, the heel of his left hand against Ben\u2019s chin, viciously pushing upward, while Cartwright grimly straddled the man, struggling to keep the hand holding the gun flat on the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cHold it!\u201d Patrick shouted, both hands steadying the pistol in his hand – and steady it was! Uncle Joe\u2019s lessons hadn\u2019t all been for naught.<\/p>\n

Both men stopped suddenly, heads turned seeing the loaded gun in the boy\u2019s hands pointed at Corrigan\u2019s head, their eyes wide with shock. But Ben\u2019s shock rapidly turned to outraged indignation at his grandson\u2019s foolhardiness. Furiously, Ben made a mental note to take that boy over his knee and give him the worst tanning of his young life as soon as he was free of this Irish fool. His adrenalin allowed a final surge of strength that freed his arms from Corrigan\u2019s grip. He still had one haymaker left in him, and slammed his right fist into Corrigan\u2019s jaw, knocking the Irishman off balance, giving Ben the leverage he needed to overpower him.<\/p>\n

Breathing hard, Ben viciously hauled Corrigan\u2019s right arm behind his back, making the Irishman yelp in pain. \u201cPatrick! Put that gun down! Carefully!\u201d Ben demanded.<\/p>\n

Silently, Patrick obeyed, and looked at his grandfather, wide-eyed and shaken.<\/p>\n

Ben breathed a little more easily. \u201cNow, go find something to tie him up with!\u201d he barked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d the youngster whispered, hurrying into the kitchen. Moments later he came back with a ball of twine and a sharp paring knife.<\/p>\n

\u201cTie him up,\u201d said Ben, spreadeagled over the furiously squirming Irishman, panting with the effort of keeping Corrigan pinned.<\/p>\n

Silently Pat obeyed, cutting several lengths. While Ben held Corrigan firmly, Patrick bound his wrists.<\/p>\n

By this time, the Irishman had recovered and was angry and defiant. \u201cI knew ye didn\u2019t have it in ye to come w\u2019 me, Patrick<\/em>,\u201d Corrigan spat out, blindly angry at this point. \u201cA shame to Padhraic Riordan\u2019s name, ye are!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I am,\u201d muttered Patrick, tightening the knots on his wrists painfully, \u201cthen I got no interest in livin\u2019 up to \u2018is name, believe me!\u201d<\/p>\n

The three in the ranch house heard the pounding of hoof beats in the yard and picked up their heads. Ben and Patrick glanced at each other, unsure of whether or not it was more of Corrigan\u2019s cohorts. Ben immediately grabbed Corrigan\u2019s pistol, quickly gripped one of the Irishman\u2019s arms and placed the gun to his head, standing in view of the doorway while Pat lunged for the pistol he\u2019d put down moments before, positioning himself by the sideboard, gun trained on the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo not<\/em> fire unless you\u2019re sure, you got that?!\u201d hissed Ben, furiously. His grandson continued to glare at the door, but nodded once, sharply. Ben held the pistol under Corrigan\u2019s chin, determined to use the man any way he had to in order to protect his grandson and himself.<\/p>\n

The door flew open as Hoss and Adam exploded into the houses, guns drawn and ready; a heartbeat later, Joe flew around the corner of the kitchen into the dining room, his gun drawn as well.<\/p>\n

Astonished, Hoss and Adam stared at the disarray of furniture overturned, the shattered lamp and ornaments around the room; their father, wild-eyed and with white hair standing up on end, his face a mottled red and white from effort as well as what looked like some heavy scratches or gouges, and gripped in his strong hands a hogtied Eamon Corrigan, looking just as worse for wear \u2013 or perhaps worse, as he wasn\u2019t free – \u00a0as Pa did.<\/p>\n

And Patrick, white as a sheet, his blue eyes just about bugged out of his head, but a pistol trained remarkably steadily on them as they stood staring in shocked amazement.<\/p>\n

Quickly assessing the situation, Adam and Hoss lowered their guns, and Joe hurried into the great room. Recognizing them, both Ben and Patrick sagged in relief.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat in hell<\/em><\/strong>\u2014” began Adam furiously, trembling hard with fever and exertion.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything\u2019s under control,\u201d Ben assured them, pushing Corrigan roughly into Hoss\u2019 hands. \u201cMr. Corrigan just thought he might like to help himself to the contents of the safe.\u201d Pat flushed as his grandfather glared at him, tight-lipped, and firmly extricated the pistol from Pat\u2019s hands. Ben turned back to his sons and stared at Corrigan. \u201cSorry to make you go all the way back to town, boys, but I want you to take him into the sheriff. Now<\/em><\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, Ben watched Adam\u2019s knees buckle and start to topple forward. While Hoss held tight to Corrigan, Ben and Patrick both lunged forward and caught Adam before he fell.<\/p>\n

At a single touch, Ben felt tremendous heat radiating from his oldest son and grimly reached up a hand to his forehead. \u201cAdam, you\u2019re burning up!\u201d he said between clenched teeth. When his son didn\u2019t answer, Ben glanced back at Hoss and nodded toward the Irishman. \u201cThrow him in the back of the buckboard and bring him into Roy. Then you be sure to bring Doc Martin back with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir, Pa,\u201d nodded Hoss, pushing Corrigan toward the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, you go with him,\u201d grunted Ben struggling with Adam. He turned to his grandson, \u201cPat, help me get your father to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Without a word, the boy got under his father\u2019s arm and tried to support him as they tried to walk an unsteady Adam to the staircase. Pat, too, was shocked by the amount of heat pouring off his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, try to step up, son,\u201d grunted Ben, trying to hold most of his son\u2019s dead weight. \u201cAdam!\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam seemed to revive a little as he was walked to the staircase and summoned enough energy to lift his legs wearily up the steps. As they got to the landing, Ben suddenly remembered Hop Sing.<\/p>\n

For the first time in his stay at the Ponderosa, an astonished Patrick heard his grandfather swear.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, God damn<\/em><\/strong> it to hell!\u201d Ben fumed. \u201cPat, I\u2019ll take him from here. Go back downstairs and help Hop Sing!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben found himself struggling to get Adam to his room without dropping him. At more than six feet tall and nearly two hundred pounds of dead weight, his son made a gangly load to lug up the stairs and down the hallway.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, one foot in front of the other,\u201d grunted Ben, urging Adam to walk under his own power. He was dismayed by how quickly the fever had climbed. Even if his body temperature had been milder earlier in the day, it had taken less than eight hours to climb dangerously high.<\/p>\n

Ben gently eased Adam down on his bed, and the young man wearily flopped onto his back, his breathing shallow and rough.\u00a0 The older man grimaced and shook his head, hands on his hips.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d murmured Ben quietly, \u201csit up. Let\u2019s get you out of those clothes and into bed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c…too tired,\u201d his son mumbled, hoarsely. His handsome face was pale; his features twisted into a grimace.<\/p>\n

\u201cC’mon, son,\u201d insisted Ben, gently pulling Adam up to a sitting position again. \u201cTake off your shirt.\u201d \u00a0The firm tone got through his son\u2019s feverish haze and, frowning, Adam began to fumble at his buttons. Ben turned to the bureau and, after rummaging a bit, plucked a nightshirt out of the drawer. He turned and stood there a moment, watching Adam struggle, then sighed shaking his head. Adam hadn\u2019t gotten very far before a severe coughing attack hit him, leaving him wheezing and breathless.<\/p>\n

Ben reached down and finished the job for him, with a sad smile. \u201cIt\u2019s been a long time since I\u2019ve had to undress you for bed,\u201d he murmured, hoping to get a rise out of him as he gently eased his son\u2019s sweaty shirt off.<\/p>\n

Adam sniffled uncomfortably, and glanced up, his eyes red-rimmed and sore-looking. \u201cI can\u2019t believe how bad I feel,\u201d he mumbled, wincing as his head throbbed.<\/p>\n

Ben quickly slipped the night shirt over his head then shucked his boots and pants. He was alarmed by his son\u2019s feverish trembling, so violent that Adam\u2019s teeth were chattering.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m cold…\u201d Adam muttered, as he fumbled with the bedclothes and climbed underneath.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere, now,\u201d said Ben, firmly, tucking the quilt in around him, \u201cjust relax and rest and I\u2019ll go down and get you something hot to drink.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam settled back on his pillows and heaved a sigh. He did feel a little better in bed. \u201cThanks, Pa,\u201d he said weakly, managing a tiny smile. Ben patted his shoulder gently and left the room, sagging momentarily against the hallway wall. What a night!<\/em> Shaking his head, Ben continued on down the hall.<\/p>\n

He turned the corner of the hallway and started downstairs to find Hop Sing lying on the settee with Patrick tending him with a cold compress for the lump on his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cBoss!\u00a0 I quit!\u201d howled the Chinese man, struggling to sit up, and wincing in pain as the movement made his head throb.<\/p>\n

Ben rolled his eyes and glanced at Pat. \u201cHow is he?\u201d His voice was cold enough to make Patrick shiver.<\/p>\n

\u201cLump the size of a goose egg back there, but it don\u2019t look too bad. Didn\u2019t break the skin,\u201d Patrick replied, still obviously shaken by the events of the evening. \u201cBet it hurts, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you stay with him, understood?\u201d grunted Ben, sternly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d nodded Patrick, guiltily. He got to his feet as his grandfather continued on toward the kitchen, and risked his grandfather\u2019s anger, by asking worriedly, \u201cHow\u2019s – how’s Dad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBurning up,\u201d said Ben grimly over his shoulder.<\/p>\n

Pat bit his lip and glanced up the stairs, then back at Hop Sing who was rubbing his head and muttering angrily in Chinese.<\/p>\n

Hop Sing looked up blearily. When he saw Pat\u2019s consternation, he managed a small smile. \u201cGo to fatha. I be all right. Go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Granddad said\u2014” began Pat uneasily, glancing toward the kitchen. He didn’t want his grandfather any angrier at him than he was already.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo! Missa Adam need you,\u201d snapped Hop Sing just as Ben rounded the corner from the kitchen and into the dining room with a hot cup of tea and a basin in his hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Hop Sing\u2014\u201d he started firmly, dark brows knit in consternation.<\/p>\n

\u201cMissa Adam sick, need both fatha and son,\u201d the Chinese man insisted stubbornly. \u201cHop Sing just got hurt head. Go.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat glanced at his grandfather in appeal.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, all right,\u201d grumbled Ben, handing Patrick the tea and heading for the stairs with the basin of cold water, \u201cbut it\u2019d sure be nice if somebody<\/em> in this house would do as I ask for once!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben, Hoss, Joe and Pat sat downstairs in front of the fire waiting while Doc Martin examined Adam upstairs. Patrick had balked at going to bed, desperate to be allowed to wait to hear how his father was and had dozed off in the blue chair before the hearth. Hoss had gently spread a knitted throw over him, as the March wind continued to pick up around the house and chilled the great room. Hoss shivered a little as he recalled the wicked tongue-lashing Patrick had received from Pa.<\/p>\n

Ben had understood that Pat was still shaken and upset from the confrontation earlier but wanted to make it abundantly clear that his behavior was not going to be forgotten. Pat had squirmed as Ben had first yelled at him demanding to know if he\u2019d completely lost his mind. Trying to steal! <\/em>From his own family!!<\/em><\/p>\n

Pat tried to explain, but his tongue seemed frozen solid and Granddad wouldn\u2019t have let him get a word in edgewise anyway; he was too furious. Then Pat really began to understand what worry was when he heard Granddad\u2019s voice get quieter and his dark eyes bored into him like an awl through hardwood. Pat quaked; Boy oh boy, but Dad sure comes by that temper o\u2019his honestly!<\/em><\/p>\n

After being raked over the coals for the attempted theft, Ben moved on to picking up a loaded gun and pointing it at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, I was pointing it at Mr. Corrigan!\u201d Pat protested weakly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow could you tell?! We were fighting! You could have hit either of us! And that\u2019s not the point! You have no business using a pistol, you\u2019ve not been shown how! Nor should<\/em> you know how, at your age!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat wisely decided this wasn\u2019t the time to bring up that he had already been shown how. \u00a0\u00a0He glanced nervously at his uncle Joe, who turned slightly away, his face alarmed, hoping that Pat wouldn\u2019t spill the beans that they\u2019d been practicing for months, target-shooting with Adam\u2019s old six-shooter.<\/p>\n

Luckily, Ben was so furious, he didn\u2019t notice Joe trying to innocently inch his way to the rear of the storm area.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd let me tell you something else, young man!\u201d snapped Ben finally, winding down and wagging a finger under Pat\u2019s nose. \u201cIf it weren\u2019t for the fact that your father is up there in bed, and I don\u2019t know how ill, I\u2019d have long since put you over my knee and whipped you within an inch of your life for your ridiculous behavior!\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick hung his head, blinking hard and his lower lip trembling. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, honest I am,\u201d he said very softly.<\/p>\n

Ben harrumphed, his temper finally cooling. He was startled to notice that Hoss and Joe were in the room; he\u2019d forgotten they were there. As angry as he was, it went against his sense of justice to scold the boy in this public a forum. Hands on his hips, he drew in a deep breath and shook his head. \u201cWell,\u201d he muttered, finally, \u201cthis discussion is far from over, young man, believe me! But right now, I\u2019m too worried about your father to contend with it.\u201d Ben jabbed a finger at the blue chair by the hearth and glared at his grandson. \u201cSit down over there and keep still, understood?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes, sir,\u201d Pat sniffled and obeyed instantly. The boy turned away from the rest of his family, still feeling the painful sting of shame for his part in the evening\u2019s drama, and instead stared sadly into the flames waiting to hear the verdict on his father\u2019s condition. It had been a long, miserable day for the fourteen-year-old; he was so worn out it hadn\u2019t taken long for gazing at the fire to lull him to sleep.<\/p>\n

Half an hour later, the three older Cartwrights picked up their heads as they hear the door close upstairs and Paul walked slowly down the hallway. Doc stretched as he walked down the stairs, looking exhausted.<\/p>\n

Ben rose to his feet and met his friend at foot of the stairs. \u201cWell, Paul?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Ben?\u201d smiled Paul, gently teasing his old friend.<\/p>\n

When Ben\u2019s brows knit together in a scowl, Paul chuckled and patted his arm. \u201cNow, don\u2019t take on so. He\u2019s sick, it\u2019s true, but it\u2019s just the measles. If we keep those lungs clear, he\u2019ll be fine in a week or two. Fever just started today?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dunno, Doc,\u201d said Hoss, glancing at his father and brother. \u201cSeems as though he\u2019s been feelin\u2019 bad for a day or so, mebbe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, then it\u2019ll like be another couple of days before the rash erupts, maybe longer, maybe less. Until he does, he\u2019ll have the fever, and the runny nose and coughing. Now, Ben, we\u2019re going to have to keep a shade of some kind on his window; there\u2019s only to be very dim lighting in his room, since his eyes will be sensitive. And the rule is no reading.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe picked his head up in shock and glanced at his father, aghast.<\/em><\/strong> \u201cPa, he\u2019ll go stir crazy!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, like it or not, he\u2019ll have to abide by it,\u201d said Paul seriously.<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s protests disturbed Pat, who snapped awake and, rubbing his eyes, sat up to find out what was going on. He missed the first part of the conversation, but held tight to Doc\u2019s next words, and they made him go cold in the pit of his stomach.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, if he does strain his eyes, he could end up blind. I\u2019ve already got three cases of measles-caused blindness from this epidemic. I don\u2019t want Adam to be the next. You\u2019ll have to figure out how to amuse him without books, unless you<\/em> do the reading. I also want to make sure his chest stays clear, so we\u2019ll need to watch him pretty closely.\u201d Paul accepted a cup of coffee from Hoss. \u201cI\u2019ll just have this quick cup and then take a look at Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPaul, how\u2019s Hank doin\u2019?\u201d asked Hoss quietly.<\/p>\n

The doctor sighed and sank onto the settee. \u201cNot good. He\u2019s developed pneumonia. And he\u2019s not responding to treatment at all.\u201d<\/p>\n

A couple of days earlier, at his wife Abigail\u2019s request, they had taken Hank into the doctor who placed him in one of the three back rooms he kept for people too ill to be unattended. Paul had several women in town who were willing to come in and nurse his very ill patients, and there had been round the clock care for Hank, supervised by Abigail, who was rapidly pushing herself into exhaustion.<\/p>\n

The Cartwrights fervently hoped it would be enough, and that Adam wouldn\u2019t follow him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Two mornings later, Paul sat at the dining room table, sipping a morning cup of tea with Ben after checking on Adam as his first call of the day. He was a little concerned that Adam\u2019s fever didn\u2019t seem to be letting up at all, and the young man seemed no nearer the eruption of the measles rash. His cough kept him from resting, he had no appetite, and he was in danger of becoming dehydrated.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, you need to keep pushing fluids into him – broth, tea, milk – anything and everything.\u00a0 Force him to drink if you have to, but get it down him. He\u2019ll be even sicker if he doesn\u2019t, and there are those in the medical community who seem to think that lots of liquids will help stave off pneumonia, keeping the cough loose.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben was weary with the effort of keeping that ranch going while shorthanded and spending all of his free time helping to nurse Adam. His darkly circled eyes remained on Paul as they discussed Adam\u2019s condition and the plan for his care. Little Joe had been working since early that morning, he and one other hand doing the labor of four men in gathering what beef they could find in the north and west pastures and herding them down for branding; Hoss was out in the barn, discussing a breeding deal with a neighboring rancher who had a prize bull he was willing to stud out.<\/p>\n

That left Patrick at the breakfast table with Ben and Paul, his mouth closed for once, but his ears and eyes opened.<\/p>\n

Yesterday and today had been painful for the youngster. His grandfather was so concerned about Adam and spent nearly all his free time with him. Patrick was still, technically, confined to the ranch, leaving him underfoot from morning until night. He was worried about his father, and about his own immediate future. Granddad was so mad at him, he could barely speak to him without a glare or a clipped sentence. This morning didn\u2019t seem any better, leaving Pat quiet and unhappy. So, lonely and fearful, Patrick had hovered like a shadow around his father\u2019s room as often as he could.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Ben, I don\u2019t want to alarm you, but you shouldn\u2019t leave him alone at all. Have whoever\u2019s sitting with him constantly try to bring that fever down.\u00a0 He seems to have a particularly bad case, and sometimes that\u2019s true with a person whose physical condition is rundown. The exertion of the ride home from town the other night didn\u2019t help, either,\u201d mused Paul as he cut his ham. \u201cTell me, has he not gotten enough rest lately or been under any particular stress?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot much more than usual,\u201d Ben said dryly, eyeing his grandson severely, who blushed guiltily, putting his attention back to his breakfast. Ben turned back to Paul. \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh, well, we\u2019ll just have to keep an eye on him,\u201d said Paul, shrugging. Then the doctor smirked at Ben. \u201cBy the way, he wasn\u2019t at all pleased when I reminded him this morning there\u2019d be no reading. You might have to remove the books from his room to enforce that!\u201d<\/p>\n

While Ben chuckled, all three heard the front door close quietly and slow steps enter the house. Ben\u2019s smile froze as he saw the stricken expression on Joseph\u2019s pale face.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d he demanded, rising to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cJake just got back from town with the mail,\u201d he said softly. \u201cHank Myers died early this morning, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul struggled to his feet as well, staring at Joe in consternation. \u201cOh, dear God…\u201d he breathed.<\/p>\n

Joe turned to the doctor. \u201cMrs. Martin said to tell you there was nothin\u2019 you coulda done, Doc. His heart just gave out from trying so hard to breathe,\u201d he said softly. Paul shook his head and slumped back down into his chair. Ben, too, sat down heavily.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was a good man,\u201d he said softly. \u201cJoe\u00bc tell Jake that I\u2019ll go over and talk to Abigail as soon as I can get away.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir, Pa,\u201d Joe said quietly, walking back toward the door. Hank Myers, dead. It\u2019s so hard to believe. And from something as seemingly simple as measles!<\/em> It made Joe think unhappily of his older brother, suffering upstairs. What if Adam caught pneumonia, too? <\/em>He looked at his father; from Pa\u2019s expression, Joe figured the same thought cross his mind as he, too, glanced above his head, as though he could see through the planking of the ranch house\u2019s solid floors.<\/p>\n

No one seemed to notice, however, the wide, worried blue eyes of Adam\u2019s son as he sat at the table, staring blindly into space.<\/p>\n

= = = =<\/p>\n

Without the distraction of school, Patrick found his confinement to the ranch very hard to deal with. His grandfather often shooed him outdoors to get some fresh air, or just to give him some peace. Pat had been worrying ever since the first night when he heard Doc Martin mention how his father could become blind, or ill with pneumonia, and wanted, very badly, to be remain near him. This morning\u2019s horrible news – that Hank had died – now terrified the boy. He took to haunting the hallway beside his father\u2019s room or slipping into the room when he could get away with it. But Adam\u2019s fever was so high he was unaware of what was going on most of the time. During those short times that he was feeling a bit better, Patrick drove him to distraction fluttering over him.\u00a0 He\u2019d keep anxiously touching him, trying to determine how hot he was, or he\u2019d constantly push water or tea on him.\u00a0 He\u2019d talk, anxiously chattering nothing of importance, but consistently keeping the man from easing into any healing rest.<\/p>\n

At the moment, Uncle Joe was up with his father, who was dozing fitfully. Patrick’s\u00a0worried straightening of his blankets startled him, once again awakening the man from a restless sleep, and Joe had sternly sent him out of the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, he\u2019s not going to get well if you don\u2019t let him rest!\u201d he\u2019d hissed angrily, as he gripped the boy\u2019s arm and marched him to the door. \u201cNow, go on out and play!\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick glared at Joe, who firmly shut the door in his face.\u00a0 Flushing with anger, he spin on his boot heel and stomped down the hall.<\/p>\n

Adam started to call after him, but ended up coughing hard, leaving him breathless and wheezing. Joe offered his brother a glass of water once it appeared he\u2019d gotten back under control.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave a little… patience with him, Joe,\u201d panted Adam, his chest aching as he tried to catch his breath. \u201cHe\u2019s… worried.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I know,\u201d sighed Joe, already regretting his unkind words. \u201cIt\u2019s only that every time you just get to sleep, he wakes you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sighed, wincing miserably as his sore throat protested, then handed the glass back to Joe. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t sleep for long anyway… God, I ache all over,\u201d he groaned, shifting uncomfortably in bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour fever down any, you think?\u201d asked Joe, gently touching his brother\u2019s forehead. It certainly didn\u2019t feel any lower.<\/p>\n

The only answer he got was a mutter as Adam turned over onto his side, grimacing but willing himself to try to relax and rest.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The \u2018go out and play\u2019 comment of his uncle\u2019s had stung. Pat clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to get into a shouting match with his uncle right there in his father\u2019s room, and had stalked downstairs and outside, shrugging into his jacket.<\/p>\n

The ranch was awfully quiet. Hank\u2019s death had cast a pall over the place. The other hands had gone up to the north corral, readying for the branding the following week, and Granddad had gone to Mrs. Myers\u2019 cottage. He didn\u2019t know where Uncle Hoss was and – <\/em><\/strong>at the moment – he didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n

Right now, Pat was a mass of worries and fears. He felt cold all over as he wondered what would happen.<\/p>\n

What if he got pneumonia, like Hank? What if he died? Doc Martin\u2019s question about his father having been overtired before his illness was haunting him too. Was it all his fault, like everything else? Had his behavior made his father more vulnerable? Awash with guilt, he fought it down with the only coping mechanism he knew: anger. Damn that Uncle Joe, anyhow! He wouldn\u2019t even let him near his father! As he stomped outdoors, he was still sullenly nursing his temper when Granddad rode back into the yard.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s face was gray and strained as he dismounted; Abigail had been distraught and there was little Ben could say to console her. All the way home, Ben had battled fatigue compounded by his worry over Adam\u2019s condition, leaving what patience he had left frayed.<\/p>\n

He glanced up as he saw Patrick glaring and kicking angrily at one of the porch uprights, chipping the wood.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick!\u201d he snapped. \u201cStop that!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t hurtin\u2019 nothin,\u201d Pat muttered, frowning, but doing as he was told. He wanted to go back upstairs to his father\u2019s room, but knew he\u2019d just get chased back out again. All of his chores had been completed hours ago. He didn\u2019t even want to read, since he didn\u2019t think he could concentrate long enough to get through a page. So he just stood there, gloomily staring at the ground with his arms crossed angrily over his chest.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow is your father?\u201d asked Ben, trying to calm himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow should I know?\u201d retorted Pat, insolently, refusing to look at Ben. \u201cI ain\u2019t allowed anywheres near him!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t take that tone of voice with me!\u201d snapped Ben, hands on his hips.<\/p>\n

The reprimand only served to make Pat even more miserable than he\u2019d been before.<\/p>\n

Ben seethed but was too tired to get into an argument with his stubborn grandson. \u201cHere,\u201d he grunted, extending his reins to the boy, \u201cplease put Buck up for me, I want to check on Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat muttered under his breath as he did as he was told with little grace. While Ben didn\u2019t catch the words, the tone was abundantly clear. Ben grabbed his grandson\u2019s arm and hauled him around to face him, his eyes burning into the youngster. The hard grip on his arm made Pat wince despite himself.\u00a0 \u201cListen to me, young man! I\u2019ve just about had enough of you and your attitude! In case you\u2019ve forgotten, you\u2019ve got a pretty hefty set of crimes to answer for when your father recovers! I would advise against making it any worse for yourself! Is that clear?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat stiffened and nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t hear you!\u201d<\/p>\n

The air between them was charged with energy, and slowly Pat raised his eyes and stared straight back it him.\u00a0 His grandfather\u2019s face looked like a thundercloud, his black brows knit together, the darkness of his eyes looking like flint, about to ignite with the fire burning within him.\u00a0 Pat tried \u2013 in vain \u2013 to conceal his resentment, as he ground out between his teeth, \u201cYes, sir!\u201d<\/p>\n

After a long, uncomfortable moment, Ben released him and strode into the house. Pat glared at his grandfather\u2019s back for a moment, then turned and pulled Buck, harder than he should have, into the barn.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey! What\u2019re you doin\u2019 to that animal?!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat whirled, startled. Uncle Hoss was standing a few feet away, pitchfork in hand mucking out stalls, with a thunderous look on his face.<\/p>\n

With much greater care, Pat led the horse inside to his stall. \u201cI wasn\u2019t doin\u2019 nothin\u2019!\u201d snapped back Pat, over his shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t tell me you weren\u2019t doin\u2019 nothin\u2019!\u201d replied Hoss, his face angry as he strode toward his nephew. \u201cYou were yankin\u2019 on that horse\u2019s bridle and draggin\u2019 him in here! You know better than that, Pat! You ever deliberately hurt an animal that way again and I\u2019ll tan your hide!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLeave me alone!\u201d shouted Pat, throwing Buck\u2019s reins to the barn floor, his fists balled in anger.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sick of everybody yellin\u2019 at me! It ain\u2019t my fault he\u2019s sick!\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss\u2019 eyes widened a bit as he stepped back a step and watched the birth of a full-blown temper tantrum. \u201cNow you just settle down – \u201c he started, quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t gonna settle down!\u201d yelled Pat, a wild kick sending a water bucket splashing. \u201cIt\u2019s all your damn fault! You brought him here! If it weren\u2019t for you none o\u2019 this woulda happened!\u201d Pat grabbed the first thing he could find, a currying brush, and hurled it at his uncle.<\/p>\n

Hoss dodged the brush easily. \u201cPatrick, calm down!\u201d said Hoss sternly, trying to latch onto an arm, but Pat was completely beside himself, finally letting go of all the terrors and fears, guilt and stress that had tormented him for days. As Hoss tried to hold him, the boy began fighting back, and Hoss yelped as he took a nasty, unexpected kick in the shins.<\/p>\n

\u201cLemme go! Leave me alone!\u201d shouted Pat, trying to dodge past his uncle<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick Cartwright, you just stop this foolishness right now, you hear me?\u201d shouted back Hoss, wincing as he rubbed his shin with one hand, the other blocking Pat\u2019s escape.<\/p>\n

\u201cCorrigan woulda never come here if it wasn\u2019t for you!\u201d the boy hollered. He was nearly in tears, totally out of control, and thrashing about blindly.<\/p>\n

Hoss was startled by the intensity of Pat\u2019s tantrum and helplessly did the only thing he could think of. Getting a solid grip on the boy\u2019s upper arms he pulled Patrick close to him, holding him tightly, giving him no room to move, effectively pinioning him the boy\u2019s back against his own broad chest. It worked on Little Joe when he got like this; maybe it\u2019d work as well on Pat?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNow, simmer down!\u201d he snapped, struggling with his nephew.<\/p>\n

Finally, though still very upset and breathing hard from the effort, \u00a0Patrick stopped fighting him.<\/p>\n

Resetting his grip on the boy, Hoss nodded to himself. \u201cNow, I don\u2019t know what\u2019s got into you, but you better cool off and get that temper o\u2019 yours back where it belongs! You ain\u2019t got no call makin\u2019 accusations, young\u2019un. You<\/em><\/strong> got yerself into your mess with Corrigan, and well you know it!\u201d<\/p>\n

His uncle\u2019s words relit the fire, and Pat tried to shrug free.\u00a0 But Uncle Hoss was having none of it. Finding himself totally overpowered, the youngster\u2019s \u00a0blue eyes shone with angry, frustrated tears. \u201cLemme go!\u201d he cried, brokenly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot until you settle down!\u201d insisted Hoss, making sure his grip on the boy was firm enough to hold him, but not hard enough to hurt him. \u201cNow what\u2019s all this foolishness about your pa\u2019s sickness bein\u2019 your fault?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat screwed shut his eyes angrily and fought once again to get free. Hoss just bided his time and let him fight; eventually he\u2019d tire out and then maybe he could get somewhere with him. Sure enough, after several minutes of tussling, Pat finally stopped fighting, panting and weary.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, you calmed down enough to talk?\u201d asked Hoss quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t wanna talk about nothin\u2019,\u201d he choked out, shaking his head, trying hard for defiance.<\/p>\n

Hoss sighed and hugged him close, \u201cWell, young\u2019un, you ain\u2019t goin\u2019 nowhere until I get a straight answer outta you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat struggled to keep his composure, and to do that he couldn\u2019t afford to lose his \u201cmad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, c\u2019mon,\u201d said Hoss gently. \u201cIt\u2019s your ol\u2019 Uncle Hoss, here. What\u2019s troublin\u2019 you?\u201d<\/p>\n

As it always did, his uncle\u2019s gentle tone did Patrick in. After a few deep breaths, he shuddered and gave in.<\/p>\n

\u201cUncle Hoss, what\u2019m I gonna do?\u201d he groaned. \u201cGranddad\u2019s so mad at me, he could spit! He ain\u2019t never gonna forgive me for even thinkin\u2019<\/em> about takin\u2019 that money, even I did decide not to. He ain\u2019t talked to me \u2018cept to yell at me, since the other night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss sighed. He knew that Pa was usually the steady, always-there rock that helped Pat ride out them stormy times with Adam. But right now, Pa was so worried about Adam and so disappointed in Patrick\u2019s behavior that he and Joe both had noticed that Pa wasn\u2019t around, physically or mentally, to give the boy a shoulder to lean on. \u00a0And this sure was a time when the young\u2019un could use it! Hoss remembered how upset he used to be when Pa was angry with him.\u00a0 \u00a0Somehow, Adam had never seemed too shaken up when he was in trouble with Pa, and Joe\u2026heck, Joe\u2019d never let it bother him more\u2019n five minutes.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, yer Granddad\u2026well, he\u2019s just awful preoccupied right now. Yer pa\u2019s real sick, and Granddad\u2019s just worried about him. You\u2019ll see, once Adam starts gettin\u2019 better, Pa\u2019ll be back to normal again. And, yeah, I know he\u2019s mad at ya, but even you gotta admit he\u2019s got a pretty good reason to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat swallowed hard and nodded. \u201cI know,\u201d he admitted miserably. \u201cBut I feel like no one ain\u2019t ever gonna forget it. No matter what I say or what I do, Granddad\u2019ll never forgive me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust give it a little time, Pat, it\u2019ll all blow over. Yer Grandpa loves you an awful lot, he\u2019s just kinda disappointed in you right now,\u201d reassured Hoss, hugging the boy reassuringly. \u201cYou\u2019re just gonna have to work hard to show him he can trust ya again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat said nothing, staring at the barn floor. Hoss cocked his head to one side and then walked the boy over to the bench at the side of the largest of the stalls and sat him down beside him. \u201cMaybe it\u2019d help if you tried to tell me why\u2026 why ya done all these fool things?\u201d<\/p>\n

In halting sentences, the whole story finally tumbled out of Patrick; his reasons for his misbehavior, his guilty fear that his poor behavior in recent weeks was the cause of his father\u2019s illness, and then the biggest fear of them all.<\/p>\n

Pale-faced, wiping his nose with his sleeve and almost angrily dashing away unshed tears, Pat couldn\u2019t meet his uncle\u2019s eyes. \u00a0\u201cWhat… what if he dies, Uncle Hoss?\u201d he whispered, staring at the floor\u2019s planking. \u201cWhat am I gonna do? What if he dies like my Ma?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss\u2019 tender heart ached for his mixed-up nephew, and he sighed, releasing the boy and turning him around, resting his big, meaty hands on the youngster\u2019s shoulders, now slumped and defeated, the fight gone out of him. \u201cAw, Pat, yer Pa\u2019s gonna pull through this. Adam\u2019s too mule-stubborn to let a case o\u2019 measles git him. Doc said he\u2019s doin\u2019 all right so far, just we gotta watch him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere was folks watchin\u2019 Hank, and he died anyway,\u201d persisted Patrick looking up miserably at Hoss, desperate for someone to reassure him, to say, outright, \u201cYour father won\u2019t die. You won\u2019t be left alone.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Pat, I ain\u2019t gonna believe that Adam\u2019ll die. I just ain\u2019t gonna believe it!\u201d said Hoss firmly. Pat\u2019s lower lip quivered as he tried hard to believe his uncle. \u201cYou just gotta have some faith, young\u2019un.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sadly, Pat shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. \u201cI can\u2019t, Uncle Hoss. I don\u2019t got any left,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

Gently, Hoss tipped Pat\u2019s chin up and made him look at him. \u201cYer too young, short stuff, to have all your faith gone. I know you\u2019re scared, but as long as you got me, and yer Uncle Joe, and Grandpa… and<\/em> your pa,\u201d he said, raising an eyebrow at his nephew, \u201cyou gotta believe you ain\u2019t ever gonna be alone. We all love you, Pat and we\u2019re here for you when you need us. And sometimes, even when you think you don\u2019t,\u201d he smiled.<\/p>\n

Pat heaved a shuddering breath, and allowed himself to be drawn slowly, comfortingly into big, strong arms and just let \u2018ol\u2019 Uncle Hoss\u2019 make him feel safe.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER NINETEEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dawn streaked through the sky, morning sunbeams picking up the blue-black glints in Patrick\u2019s hair as he sweated over the wood pile. He\u2019d been at work for nearly half an hour already as the sun presented itself to the territory.<\/p>\n

It had been almost a week since this whole mess had come crashing down around the youngster\u2019s ears. Patrick was exhibiting the strain of worrying whether or not his father would be all right; and, if he did recover, how they\u2019d solve the awful problems Pat had gotten himself into. The boy hadn\u2019t slept a night through since the incident with Corrigan and the safe. Instead, his rest was broken with nightmares, followed by pacing the floors. He\u2019d sit down to eat and be unable to choke down more than half his food, his stomach in knots.<\/p>\n

And he worked like a fiend, desperate to show his family that he wasn\u2019t completely a lost cause, that there was something worthwhile to his existence.<\/p>\n

As he finished working at the wood pile, his litany of crimes pounded in on him again. Since his outburst in the barn with Uncle Hoss, he stopped having tantrums and instead was withdrawn. He honestly tried to be positive and upbeat, …but he found it was just too hard.<\/p>\n

He was surprised to realize how much he missed his father; far more than he\u2019d ever dreamed he would. With his grandfather so mad at him everything in his life was turned upside down, and his worries numbered in the thousands.<\/p>\n

He still suffered the awful, uncomfortable pinch of guilt and shame over his misdemeanors these past couple of weeks closing in on him. He wished his father would get well quickly; both so he\u2019d be okay, and so that Pat could finally put all of this behind him and start over. Miserably he sank the axe into the stump and closed his eyes, hoping hard that he\u2019d be permitted to.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Hoss and Little Joe sat at the breakfast table, wearily shoveling in food. The situation with Hank\u2019s death, Adam\u2019s illness, and Ben\u2019s close attendance in Adam\u2019s room was wearing on them, as well. Luckily, Patrick had begun to chip in and was doing a full day\u2019s work. Since school was closed due to the epidemic he\u2019d had nothing to do anyway. With the ranch so shorthanded, Hoss and Little Joe had asked their father if Pat could be allowed off restriction to help.<\/p>\n

Joe had watched the kid and saw the iron hard determination to work his butt off. He\u2019d put in a grown man\u2019s work these last three days. Joe knew he was trying hard to prove himself, and to lose himself in the work to get his mind off his troubles. But the pinched look of shame was always present, whether sawing wood, or clearing brush from drainage ditches. He struggled to meet Joe\u2019s eyes, though he was a bit more relaxed around Hoss.<\/p>\n

Hoss and Joe had talked about the unhappy scene in the barn the other day, and Joe felt bad for his nephew. While it was true Patrick had been way out of line, he was just a kid, and Corrigan had played him like a violin. Though Hoss hadn\u2019t said as much, Joe thought he knew enough about his young nephew to realize that another part of his misery had to do with him looking like a fool. Joe was young enough to know exactly what that sting felt like.<\/p>\n

The brothers talked quietly about their plans for the day, trying to figure out how to pack two days\u2019 worth of work into one, when they heard the dragging step of their father on the stairs.<\/p>\n

Ben looked hollow-eyed with exhaustion as he came toward the table and plunked himself down in his seat at the head of the table. He managed a quiet, \u201cGood morning,\u201d to his sons, and shook out his napkin, placing it on his lap, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He glanced to his left and saw the remains of Pat\u2019s breakfast. Quite a bit of remains, too. Ben sighed; that boy hadn\u2019t eaten enough to keep a bird alive these last couple of days.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Pat?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing said he was up early, ate, and he\u2019s out doing his chores,\u201d answered Joe, sipping his coffee.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only 5:30,\u201d frowned Ben. \u201cI guess he was<\/em> up early!\u201d He sighed and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. \u201cHe hasn\u2019t been sleeping. I\u2019ve heard him up and around in his room the last couple of nights.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss glanced at his father, started to say something, then frowned and put his head back down, eating thoughtfully.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s Adam, Pa?\u201d asked Joe, sipping his coffee.<\/p>\n

Ben shook his head. \u201cHis fever\u2019s still very high. Sleeping a lot; I suppose I should be happy. When he\u2019s awake he\u2019s restless and aches all over. But I sure wish that rash would come on and he could be on the mend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s an awful long time comin,’ ain\u2019t it?\u201d worried Hoss, as he forked himself some eggs<\/p>\n

\u201cPaul says anywhere from two to eight days,\u201d mused Ben, trying to remember how long Adam had been ill. He was too tired to think, and sighed, shaking his head. \u201cThe hard part is getting him to eat and drink. You know how stubborn your brother can be; short of sitting on him, holding his nose and pouring it down his throat, I don\u2019t know what else I can do to coax him into swallowing down broth or milk.\u201d He rubbed his eyes wearily. \u201cSurely it can\u2019t be much longer. This is rough on him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRough on Patrick, too,\u201d said Hoss quietly.<\/p>\n

Startled, Ben glanced up. \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI said, it\u2019s rough on Patrick, too,\u201d said Hoss, looking at his father. \u201cThat poor kid\u2019s been having nightmares, can\u2019t eat, can\u2019t sleep\u2026.he\u2019s \u2018most worried to death.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that young man has a lot to be worried about!\u201d snapped Ben. \u201cOf all the darn fool -\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss put down his napkin and looked at his father. \u201cHe\u2019s afraid Adam\u2019s gonna die and he\u2019ll have no ma or<\/em> pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben narrowed his eyes and looked at his middle son.<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t told ya \u2018cos I know you\u2019ve been worried about Adam, but \u2013”\u00a0 He hesitated and glanced at Joe, who nodded at him encouragingly. \u201cWell, Pa, he and I had a talk t\u2019other day, and he\u2019s feelin\u2019 real guilty and miserable \u2018bout this whole thing. And on top o\u2019 that, he\u2019s scared Adam\u2019s gonna die, like Hank.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNonsense!\u201d snapped Ben. \u201cAdam\u2019s just got the measles!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa,\u201d said Joe quietly.<\/p>\n

Ben swung his irritated eyes toward his youngest son. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s gaze was sorrowful. \u201cThat\u2019s all Hank had, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben glared at him and started to retort until he saw the looks of concern on both Hoss\u2019 and Joe\u2019s faces. Haggard anxiety etched worry onto his middle son\u2019s normally placid features and Joe\u2019s eyes looked years older, with lines etched around the corners. Ben\u2019s shoulders sagged. What\u2019s the point in hiding it?\u00a0 They can see right through me, anyway\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m worried, too, boys. Badly worried,\u201d he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with his hand.<\/p>\n

Hoss leaned forward, pouncing on his father\u2019s words. His blue eyes were lit with apprehension, and his voice was tight, unusually tense. \u00a0\u00a0“Jest imagine how worried Patrick is, then!\u201d he implored. \u201cThat poor kid is used to havin\u2019 you there as -as\u2026.. oh, I dunno, kinda like his anchor. When he and Adam have a go-round, who\u2019s the one he turns to? You!<\/em><\/strong> And not only are you busy nursin\u2019 Adam, you\u2019re so mad at the poor kid he ain\u2019t sure you care anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot care!\u201d glowered Ben, rearing back in outrage, slapping his hand on the table. Stung by the accusation, his outraged anger gave him an energy he hadn\u2019t had just a few moments earlier, making it seem as though static electricity was causing his thick, white hair to ruffle with energy. \u201cWhat makes him think I don\u2019t care?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe \u2026. \u2018cos you haven’t shown him you do lately,\u201d said Joe, gruffly, looking down at his plate, his jaw stubbornly set.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s winced; that look was so much like Adam that Ben\u2019s heart hurt a moment. Please, God\u2026 please tell me he\u2019ll be all right?\u00a0 That I\u2019ll get to see that stubborn, pain-in-the-rear-end expression on Adam\u2019s face again, across the table from me?\u00a0 Please?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI know I always hated to have you mad at me, Pa,\u201d continued Hoss, looking apologetic.\u00a0 But his desperate need to make his father understand how deeply this situation was affecting the youngest of the Cartwrights pushed him to a place of insistence he normally wouldn\u2019t go. For Pat\u2019s sake? Yes.\u00a0 Yes, he would.<\/em> \u201cHe feels like you ain\u2019t never gonna forgive him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd he\u2019s been workin\u2019 his tail off to prove to you that he\u2019s not all bad,\u201d nodded Joe, with a small smile. \u201cPa, you shoulda seen him yesterday. He put in a man\u2019s day yesterday, one that would have tuckered out Hoss or me. And he still had another nightmare last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe had been the one to reach him first, when he heard the muffled crying in the room next to his. When he entered the room, Pat was sitting up in bed, his knees drawn up and his head resting on his crossed arms, crying softly and trembling. He\u2019d dreamed his father had died and he was attending the funeral. No matter how hard Joe tried to comfort and console him, the haunted look of fear never left the boy\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n

Hoss had come in at that point, listening to Joe\u2019s gentle soothing, and remembered the nights that Adam had been the one to be the comforter.\u00a0 All those sad, lonely nights after Mama, Joe\u2019s mother Marie, had died, and the child either woke in his bed screaming, or had padded, frightened from a dream, into Adam\u2019s room.\u00a0 Pa had been too distraught himself; Joe felt the \u00a0pain pulsing off Pa in waves, and had no frame of reference, no way to understand.\u00a0 So, he went to the steady one, the one who always was calm, always ready with a good, solid explanation, and who always dried his tears, eased his hurts and hummed or sang to him to soothe and help him relax.\u00a0 The irony that Joe was now providing that same solace to Adam\u2019s son wasn\u2019t lost on Hoss.<\/p>\n

Disconcerted, Ben scowled into his coffee cup. It bothered him to realize that Adam had been ill now for six days and Ben really hadn\u2019t talked much with Pat in all that time. He\u2019d just been so worried\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, you used to make sure, when we\u2019d done something wrong, that justice was swift,\u201d said Hoss, quietly, stroking a finger nervously along the pattern of the checkered tablecloth. He peered up, nervously. \u00a0\u201cPat\u2019s been sufferin\u2019 for a week. Don\u2019t you think we could at least get that off his chest? It\u2019d be one less thing for him to be worryin\u2019 over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss,\u201d sighed Ben, leaning back in his chair.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m not his father.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut his father can\u2019t do nothin\u2019 at the moment!\u201d protested Hoss, upset, his arms spread wide, as though showing the breadth of his heart in this moment, filled with pain for his nephew. \u00a0\u201cIt just ain\u2019t fair on the kid, Pa!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you propose I<\/em> do about it, boys?\u201d he demanded wearily.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat would you do if it had been one of the three of us?\u201d asked Joe with a wry grin, totally aware of what his answer would have been. Ben fell silent, thinking, and Joe and Hoss decided to leave him to it, finishing their breakfast and getting on to work.<\/p>\n

Ben closed his eyes and shook his head. I\u2019m getting too old for this\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat wearily straightened up as he heard his grandfather\u2019s voice, wincing as his aching back muscles protested. Morosely, Pat sighed and set the pitchfork against the wall as he prepared to go out find out what he\u2019d done wrong this time. Lately, the only time Granddad wanted to talk to him was to yell at him. He walked out of the barn, squinting in the bright sunlight, and saw his grandfather over at the front porch.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you are,\u201d said Ben quietly, walking toward him. \u201cYou didn\u2019t come in for lunch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI, uh, I was too busy getting chores done,\u201d he answered studying the planking on the house just over his grandfather\u2019s right shoulder. Truth was, he felt too ashamed to sit at the table with Granddad.<\/p>\n

Ben felt a twinge of guilt as he saw the circled eyes, the pale face, and misery on the boy\u2019s face. Hoss and Joe were right. Setting his lips firmly, he decided that it was time to get some things straightened out and get this youngster back on track.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to talk to you inside, please. Go get washed and come on in.\u201d Ben turned abruptly and began to walk back toward the house.<\/p>\n

Alarmed, Pat hurried after him and insistently pulled on his grandfather\u2019s arm. Ben turned in surprise and was shocked at the terrified expression on the boy\u2019s face. \u201cIt ain\u2019t Dad? He ain\u2019t worse, is he? Should I get the doctor?\u201d he exclaimed.<\/p>\n

Ben put both hands on the boy\u2019s shoulders, giving the boy a reassuring smile. \u201cNo, Pat, easy, son, easy,\u201d he soothed. \u201cYour father\u2019s resting comfortably. He\u2019s asleep right now and Hop Sing\u2019s with him.\u201d Ben bit his lip as he saw his grandson sag in relief, closing his eyes. Steeling himself, Ben put out a hand and tipped up the boy\u2019s chin. \u201cNo, we need to talk about you, and what\u2019s been going on here these last couple of weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s eyes widened and he swallowed hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, go on and get cleaned up and meet me in your room in five minutes,\u201d said Ben sternly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d Pat whispered, watching his grandfather return to the house.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

About an hour later, Ben came down the hall and tapped lightly at Pat\u2019s door. When he received no response, he opened the door softly and peered into the room. Patrick was sprawled on his bed on his stomach, out cold. Ben came closer and smiled sadly; the boy had grimy tear streaks on his face. He\u2019d obviously cried himself into an exhausted sleep, but Ben had been listening closely while sitting with Adam; he must have done his sobbing quietly. Gently, Ben stroked back his dark hair \u2013 you look so much like your father!<\/em> – and reached down for the quilt at the end of the bed, covering him. Pat stirred and muttered, then snuggled deeper into his pillow and was quiet again, getting his best sleep in days.<\/p>\n

\u201cRest well, Pat,\u201d he said softly, tucking the boy in, and leaving again, quietly.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Patrick stirred a little and opened his eyes, blearily. Propping himself up on his elbows, he glanced over his shoulder at himself and saw the quilt on him and was a little confused. He couldn\u2019t even remember falling asleep, much less pulling up that quilt. He quickly glanced toward the window and saw that the sun was low in the sky. Jeez, it must be nearly supper time!<\/em> He yawned, and then his stomach growled a little as he rolled over, sleepily.<\/p>\n

Yelping in surprised pain, he rolled quickly back onto his stomach, suddenly very <\/em>wide awake! Pat squeezed shut his eyes and painfully sucked in air between his teeth as he waited for the ache to subside; well, that<\/strong> sure wasn\u2019t a real bright idea, was it?!<\/em><\/p>\n

He carefully stretched out on his side, and rested his head on the pillow again, thinking. He remembered standing miserably through a very stiff lecture, having to recount his laundry list of sins, from forgery to hooky-playing and everything in between.\u00a0 He remembered Granddad finally re-buckling his belt and then squeezing his shoulder in comfort. He remembered his eyes welling up as his grandfather tenderly smiled at him and lightly squeezed the back of his neck in comfort, telling him he\u2019d been forgiven, then left the room. Pat recalled trying not to cry at first, then burying his face in his pillow \u2026 he must\u2019ve fallen asleep then, he sighed.<\/p>\n

He winced as he thought over that session and rubbed his aching backside. All this time he\u2019d figured his Granddad was pretty much a pushover. He knew Granddad could get mad, but brother!<\/em><\/p>\n

There was a soft knock on the door, and it opened, admitting his grandfather. Pat blushed a little, feeling disconcerted. He didn\u2019t know whether to stand up or stay lying down, but he sure as heck wasn\u2019t gonna sit!<\/p>\n

Granddad solved the problem by smiling warmly and coming in to sit beside him on the bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was a good, long nap you had, young fella. You feeling a little better?\u201d he asked gently, reaching around and rubbing his grandson\u2019s back. He remembered that when Joseph was younger and upset, a backrub usually calmed and soothed him enough to be able to talk about whatever was troubling him. Adam had been so much older by the time Ben figured this out that he hadn\u2019t been able to use this tactic with him. He remembered regretting it at the time, since it probably would have helped in dealing with his high-strung oldest son, too.<\/p>\n

Pat was unable to meet his grandfather\u2019s eyes, still embarrassed. Even though his butt still felt hot enough to fry eggs, he was surprised to realize he really did<\/em> feel better; inside. Kind of like the weight of the world was off his shoulders. Sighing, he nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Because you and I need to have a little talk,\u201d said Ben, quietly. \u201cFirst of all, I want to make sure you understand why you were punished.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat squirmed a little. I already got <\/strong>the lecture, didn\u2019t I? <\/em>\u201cYes, sir, I do,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, then?\u201d Ben encouraged, with a prompting nod.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, Granddad,\u201d he sighed unhappily, \u201cthere\u2019s too many things to count.\u201d<\/p>\n

The older man tried not to chuckle. \u201cOne major thing,\u201d said Ben seriously. \u201cPat, I think I can speak for your father when I say the biggest mistake you made was several instances of dishonesty, wouldn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d nodded Pat, fiddling with the stitching on his quilt.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think you\u2019ve learned your lesson? Are you going to do your best to be honest and truthful in the future?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded again, blushing uncomfortably.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou made a good start earlier by admitting everything and saying you were sorry. I would imagine your father will want to talk with you a bit, but for now it\u2019s over and done with,\u201d said Ben gently.<\/p>\n

Patrick sighed with relief and Ben smiled and tousled his hair. \u201cNow, you\u2019ve been pretty unhappy the last couple of weeks, and I just want to make sure you\u2019ve got it all out of your system.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat drew in a deep breath and looked up. His grandfather\u2019s eyes had gone from smoldering hot all this week, to warm this afternoon; if he\u2019d had his druthers, he would much prefer them this way. \u201cYeah, I guess so,\u201d he sighed. He thought about the unresolved feelings of not knowing which side of him \u2013 the Riordan or the Cartwright \u2013 was stronger and wishing he knew more about himself and his own history but uneasily kept them to himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d mused Ben, continuing to rub his back gently. \u201cYou still seem to be pretty preoccupied. So, what\u2019s still on your mind?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothin\u2019 really,\u201d said Pat softly. \u201cI\u2019m just real sorry, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry about which?\u201d smiled Ben, an eyebrow cocked. \u201cAs you just said, you had several things to be sorry for.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben was pleased to see that Pat was able to see the humor and even managed a little smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything, I guess. Sorry about Corrigan, and the money\u2026 sorry about lyin\u2019 to Dad\u2026 sorry about everything,\u201d he sighed. The youngster hung his head a little, and said very softly, \u201cI bet he wishes he had a different kind o\u2019son.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI doubt that very much,\u201d said Ben, smiling tenderly. \u201cHe loves you just the way you are. We all do. If you were different, you wouldn\u2019t be Patrick, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat frowned and shrugged. \u201cYeah, but I bet he <\/em>never gave you this much trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben couldn\u2019t help it. At first he thought he could hold it in, but he supposed the effort to control his emotions over these last days had just taken too much of a toll. \u00a0He covered his face with a hand, his shoulders shaking with so much laughter that tears winked at the corners of his eyes.<\/p>\n

Pat was so startled that he first thought he\u2019d really upset his grandfather.\u00a0 When he realized the old man was laughing, he wasn\u2019t sure whether or not to be insulted. \u201cWhat\u2019s so funny?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour image of your father!\u201d Finally able to control himself once more, Ben merely wiped his eyes and shook his head, chuckling. Then he sat back, his arms crossed over his chest. \u201cLet me give you a clue, young man\u2026 You, sir, are a chip off the old block, that\u2019s for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat cocked an eyebrow and looked at his grandfather quizzically.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, let me tell you about a few of your father\u2019s escapades when he was about your age, shall I? That ought to dispel any illusions\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

By the time Ben was finished Pat was roaring with laughter himself, carefully avoiding slipping onto his back, but tickled, nonetheless.<\/p>\n

Pat then grew thoughtful.\u00a0 He realized that he\u2019d been wrong about so many parts of the man who was his dad. While it was a bit disconcerting to have to shift and change his mind about him \u2013 again! \u2013<\/em> he found himself curious to learn who his dad really was.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you see, young fella, I\u2019d say you come by your temperament pretty honestly,\u201d grinned Ben. \u00a0The man sobered then, and reached out, lightly brushing a lock of black hair off the boy\u2019s forehead. \u201cHe made mistakes, too. And I guess he turned out okay. So will you,\u201d said Granddad, gently, patting his shoulder.<\/p>\n

They had a serious, gentle talk about how the youngster would try to make right the messes he\u2019d gotten into this past week. It was an embarrassing conversation for Pat, but it sure felt good to have his Granddad back the way he was used to him. Ben was touched by the earnest, frank remorse Pat was exhibiting and made sure to encourage and reassure him as he made suggestions on Pat\u2019s future behavior.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, then, young man, I think we can start fresh now, don\u2019t you?\u201d smiled Ben, warmly.<\/p>\n

Pat nodded with relief. \u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Now, are you hungry?\u201d<\/p>\n

To Pat\u2019s surprise, for the first time in several days, he found he was. \u201cI could eat a horse!\u201d he admitted with a sheepish smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood! Let\u2019s get downstairs to supper before your uncle Hoss eats everything in sight!\u201d teased Granddad, tickling his ribs and making him laugh again. Pat carefully pushed himself to his feet; Ben had to stifle a smile as he watched Patrick absently wince and rub his sore backside.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo I have to sit at the table?\u201d asked Pat, looking up unhappily at his grandfather.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you do,\u201d said Granddad firmly, then he winked. \u201cBut I wouldn\u2019t be surprised if your uncles haven\u2019t found a big feather pillow to cushion your seat a bit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flushing in embarrassment, Pat swallowed hard, started to protest, then sighed, resigned to his fate, and nodded. Ben smiled and tousled his black hair in encouragement and approval.<\/p>\n

Grandfather and grandson walked down to supper, with Ben\u2019s arm fondly around Pat\u2019s shoulders as they went.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

His head throbbed, his ears hurt, his throat felt raw and sore, and it seemed as though every muscle in his body ached. He alternated between shivering with chills and fussily pushing the covers off himself as he became unbearably hot.\u00a0 The worst times were when he was totally aware of how ill he felt and how bored he was; it was a lot easier to get through this when his fever was so high that he slept very hard, almost in a stupor. The days had begun to run together. Hours became one long minute of suffering, all strung together. If asked, Adam couldn\u2019t have said how long he\u2019d been ill.<\/p>\n

Ben gently wiped the perspiration off Adam\u2019s forehead and neck, trying to help him get comfortable. As had been true for several days Ben wasn\u2019t able to coax much food into him; but he did recall Paul saying that Adam had to have a lot to drink – \u00a0to sit on him and force it down his throat if he had to. So, while he didn\u2019t press the issue on the food, he was very firm that Adam drink down Hop Sing\u2019s broth.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, son?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Pat?\u201d he asked, weakly. \u201cI haven\u2019t seen him\u2026in days\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt just feels like days,\u201d reassured Ben. \u201cHe was in just this morning, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s forehead creased as he made the effort to put images and feelings together into a normal timeline. \u201c\u2026 He\u2019s unhappy\u2026\u201d he fretted.<\/p>\n

\u201cShhhh, it\u2019s all right, he\u2019s fine,\u201d soothed his father, placing a cold compress on Adam\u2019s forehead to cool his fever, and gently patting his hot hand. \u201cHe\u2019s finishing up his chores. When he\u2019s through I\u2019ll have him come to visit, all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam began to cough, quickly getting overheated, and restlessly pushed his covers down again, his breathing ragged.<\/p>\n

Ben sighed and pulled the covers back up, earning him a muttered \u201c.. too hot\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, you have to stay warm. Just try to relax and rest,\u201d said his father firmly.<\/p>\n

For a little while, the cold compress seemed to feel good and Adam lay back quietly. He felt awareness trickle back into his body and didn\u2019t particularly welcome it. Awareness hurt<\/em>. He grew fidgety again and opened his sore, reddened eyes and sought out his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s worried, Pa\u201d croaked Adam, attempting to fight through the feverish haze and focus his mind back on his son again, and wincing as the effort to speak hurt his throat. \u201cI\u2019ve seen him moping around the hallway, and when he\u2019s in here\u2026\u201d he stopped speaking as he broke into a severe coughing fit. Finally, wheezing, he lay back on his pillows\u2026 \u201cWhen he\u2019s in here\u2026 he looks miserable.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s feeling a lot better, now,\u201d smiled Ben. \u201cHe\u2019s worried about you<\/em>, but once your fever breaks, you\u2019ll both be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf it ever does,\u201d Adam grumped, shifting restlessly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like me to read to you? Think that\u2019d help you relax?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess so\u2026\u201d Adam sighed, closing his eyes tiredly.<\/p>\n

Ben smiled tenderly. His eldest\u2019s normally self-possessed and disciplined expression was replaced by a slight frowning pout, his usually meticulous appearance marred by damp hair, curling at the ends and mussed. Laying back on his pillows, shifting uncomfortably, Adam looked more like a very small boy than he had in many years.<\/p>\n

Choosing a volume of poetry from Adam\u2019s bookshelf, Ben settled back into the bedside chair and began to read. Adam\u2018s forehead started out creased in discomfort, but as his father\u2019s voice soothed and calmed him, the pain lines eased and Adam dozed off to sleep.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

With his other morning chores finished, Pat tackled the job of splitting kindling for the house\u2019s fireplaces.\u00a0 As he carefully aimed the hatchet and splintered off pieces, tossing them into the kindling bucket, Patrick thought about his visit to his father last night. Dad had been so feverish he wasn\u2019t really sure his father knew he was there. He sure didn\u2019t seem to be getting better, Pat sighed. He knew Granddad and his uncles were awful worried, Hop Sing, too. He just couldn\u2019t understand why this fever wouldn\u2019t break the way Dr. Martin said it would.<\/p>\n

Pat slammed the ax into the stump, then raised his head in curiosity as he heard horses and a wagon or buggy coming into the front yard. Buttoning his coat closer around himself, he trotted the kindling bucket to the kitchen door, then hurried around to the front of the house to see who had arrived.<\/p>\n

Doc Martin was stepping down out of his buggy as he turned the corner of the house. Suddenly alarmed and with his eyes wide, Pat hurried to him. Was Dad worse? Did they send for Doc while I was doin\u2019 my chores!?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter? Is he worse?\u201d Pat blanched, gripping tightly the side of the buggy.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no,\u201d soothed Paul, smiling and putting his hand reassuring on Patrick\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI\u2019m just stopping in to see how your father\u2019s feeling, that\u2019s all.\u201d Paul eyed the boy, in concern. \u00a0Instead of the usually healthy, robust fourteen-year-old, Martin saw a pale, seemingly exhausted kid with darkly-circled eyes, and a very frightened look on his face. \u201cYou look done in, son. Are you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019m fine,\u201d muttered Pat, looking away and heading toward the house, anxiously glancing back to make sure Paul was following him.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Adam, still having a hard time, eh?\u201d said Paul, quietly, as listened to Adam\u2019s chest, and noting the heat emanating from the young man. Adam had lost weight, his face was terribly pale under his stubble and his eyes were red and sunken. But Paul was pleased to note that his skin wasn\u2019t showing signs of dehydration.<\/p>\n

Adam was in a semi-stupor from his fever and wasn\u2019t really alert to what was going on. He shifted restlessly in bed, not responding to the doctor, and trembling, hard. On the other side of his bed, Ben helplessly glanced at the doctor. \u201cPaul?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just the fever, Ben,\u201d assured Paul, though his face was concerned.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, for heaven\u2019s sake, Paul!\u201d hissed Ben, planting his hands on his hips in worry and irritation. \u201cHow long before the fever breaks? He\u2019s been like this for four days!\u201d He worked hard to keep his voice quiet, so as to not disturb Adam.<\/p>\n

But doing so made it awful hard for Patrick, standing outside the door eavesdropping anxiously, to hear.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor heaven\u2019s sake, I\u2019m a doctor, not a fortune-teller!\u201d\u00a0 Pat heard the answering irritation in Doc\u2019s voice, and for some odd reason that made him even more anxious.\u00a0 Doc was almost always calm.\u00a0 He heard both men draw in breaths as though to get their tempers back under control and two muttered apologies.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, while it isn\u2019t often the prodromal phase of measles lasts six or seven days, it isn\u2019t unheard of. I\u2019ve read about some patients going as long as eight days before the rash begins. Adam\u2019s just having a harder time than usual, that\u2019s all. I don\u2019t like the sound of that cough, though. Here, fluff up his pillows, I want him sitting up as much as he can to ease his breathing,\u201d said Paul, easing Adam up gently to a sitting position. Ben did as he asked, and they were able to get him comfortable again.<\/p>\n

Paul stood studying the sick man in front of him, rubbing his lips, and sighed, making a decision. \u201cBen, would you go down and ask Hop Sing for some ice?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben blanched and looked at Paul, stricken.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make more of this than is necessary,\u201d said Paul firmly. \u201cI want to cool him down, that\u2019s all. Bring both a small block, and some chipped. And a spoon.\u201d<\/p>\n

Without another word, Ben nodded and left the room, nearly running into his grandson, out in the hallway. He tried to reassure him with his eyes but was unable to speak as he hurried downstairs.<\/p>\n

Pat sidled into the room his eyes wide.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he gonna be all right?\u201d he asked in a quiet, quaking voice. This was reminding him way too much of his mother\u2019s death six months earlier.<\/p>\n

Paul glanced up and beckoned the boy closer. \u201cWant to help?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silently, and in relief of finally being given something to do, Pat nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d said Paul. \u201cI want you to just talk to him, quietly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded again, then squatted down at his father\u2019s side. He winced and hissed in air between his teeth when the skin of his haunches was pulled painfully tight, but ignored it to focus on the task given him. \u201cHey, Dad? Dad? It\u2019s me, Pat. You\u2019re gonna be okay.\u201d It felt awkward at first, but Patrick steeled himself to reach out and take his father\u2019s hot hand in his, and continued talking softly, his deep voice soothing. \u201cDad, you gotta wake up and see the weather. It\u2019s just beautiful out there. I think spring\u2019s gonna be here soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood, Pat,\u201d approved Paul, softly.<\/p>\n

Pat glanced back at him, worriedly, and drawing in a deep breath, nodded and continued his monologue.<\/p>\n

Paul sighed as he watched. It was obvious the boy was scared; if Adam didn\u2019t get better soon, he\u2019d have two patients to worry about, not to mention Ben.<\/p>\n

Ben returned to the room with a block of ice in a bowl, and the chipped ice in a cup. Paul smiled at<\/p>\n

Ben and took the bowl. \u201cPat, carefully set that block into the bowl of water to cool it off. Keep applying the compresses to his forehead, and wipe down his face, neck, and wrists.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded, immediately doing as he was asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, I want you to try to spoon some of those ice chips into him, a very tiny amount at a time. Let\u2019s see if we can\u2019t cool him from both inside and out. All right? Only a small amount at a time, though, or it could upset his stomach.\u201d<\/p>\n

The three worked for nearly an hour; gradually, the treatment began to have an effect. Adam\u2019s breathing became less ragged, and he seemed to be resting better, and eventually began to wake.<\/p>\n

Adam stirred uncomfortably and shivered from the chill of the icy compresses, trying to take in what was going on around him.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all right, Adam, your fever just got a bit too high,\u201d said Paul quietly. \u201cHow do you feel?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTired,\u201d Adam whispered weakly, closing his eyes and laying back quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not surprised,\u201d smiled Paul. \u201cGentlemen, I think we\u2019ve got things under control here. Why don\u2019t you two go downstairs and get yourselves something to drink. You both look as worn out as he does.\u201d\u00a0 Reluctantly, Ben herded Patrick out of the room, and they headed downstairs. Paul shook his head with a smile and turned back to his patient. \u201cSo, young man, how\u2019s the head? Still aching?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam nodded quietly, his forehead still creased. The ice was making him shiver violently.<\/p>\n

Paul and Adam talked quietly for several minutes, not hearing as quiet footsteps came back upstairs, and waited outside the door.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026 she\u2019s been stopping in once or twice a day, Adam, wanting to know how you are,\u201d Martin was saying quietly. \u201cI suppose you know they\u2019re leaving in a few days?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he heard his father sigh. \u201cShe told me about a job\u2026things didn\u2019t… work out as we\u2019d hoped, Doc.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019d like you to cooperate and break this fever, young man, so that that young woman and her daughter can leave for San Francisco in peace,\u201d said Paul, in gentle, friendly voice. \u201cShe doesn\u2019t want to leave until she knows you\u2019re going to be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick opened his eyes wide in shock and leaned against the wall, shaking his head as he realized who Doc and his dad must be talking about. Oh, no\u2026 Wendy was leaving?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cShe shared a bit with me about her husband, Adam. She was distraught and not sleeping well and came to me for something to help her at night. After a bit of discussion, she broke down and told me the whole story. I\u2019m awfully sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll of it?\u201d Patrick heard his father rasp.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean about her husband being committed? Yes. Do you have a message for her?\u201d Paul knew how difficult this was for Adam. Though he didn\u2019t say so, he could tell that Veronica Carter and Adam had fallen in love, and that this dreadful situation with her ill husband had hurt both of them terribly.<\/p>\n

Patrick closed his eyes and lowered his head, listening intently outside the door. A week ago, he\u2019d probably have been stubbornly glad to hear that this relationship with Mrs. Carter was going to end; after witnessing the passion they\u2019d shared at the lake, Pat had been angry, jealous and hurt. Now, he just felt sad, for his father and for himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah\u2026 tell her I said it was a pleasure to have known her,\u201d came his father\u2019s soft, sad voice. \u201cAnd that I wish her the very best.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Adam, I\u2019ll do that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick lifted his eyes, stubbornly determined that somehow, some way, he\u2019d get out and see Wendy before she left, restriction or not.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Paul left soon after, trying to sound reassuring, but making sure that Ben didn\u2019t leave Adam unattended. Pat stayed with him for a while, but when Adam dropped off into a relatively comfortable sleep, Ben forced Pat outside to get some fresh air.<\/p>\n

Close to midday, Ben asked Hop Sing to prepare a pot of coffee and took a walk outside to wait while Hoss sat upstairs with Adam.\u00a0 Stretching out his shoulders, he glanced onto the porch and saw Patrick leaning against the furthest porch upright, staring off into the distance. Sighing, he walked over to his grandson and stood beside him for a few moments. Then silently, he allowed an arm to drop down and drape comfortingly around the boy\u2019s taut shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Pat,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cHe\u2019ll be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, sure,\u201d grunted Patrick, still staring ahead blindly. \u201cSo okay that we gotta get ice from the ice house to bring his fever down. C\u2019mon, Granddad, I ain\u2019t stupid!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben sighed and started to reply, then looked up as he heard hoof beats pound into the yard and saw Roy Coffee riding in. What now?<\/em> he groaned to himself, reluctantly walking down to meet him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfternoon, Ben,\u201d smiled Roy, glancing up at the sullen boy on the porch. He hadn\u2019t moved, was still leaning against the post, sulking and staring down at the ground. \u201cI need to talk a bit with you and Patrick.\u201d\u00a0 He slapped his reins around the hitching rail.<\/p>\n

Ben eyed his old friend a little quizzically but got the reassurance of a bland expression in return.\u00a0 Good; nothing wrong then.\u00a0 Probably just routine.<\/em>\u00a0 \u201cSure, Roy, come on in,\u201d he invited, leading the way to the front door. \u00a0He smiled at his grandson, and the boy followed them in.<\/p>\n

Once inside, Pat leaned against the back of his grandfather\u2019s chair, his coat tossed carelessly on the table as Ben invited Roy to be seated. Hop Sing had just come out with the coffee service, widened his eyes in surprise when he saw the Sheriff. \u201cI get \u2018nother cup,\u201d he said, bowing to the lawman, then hurrying back toward the kitchen after pouring Ben\u2019s cup. Roy shook his head as Ben offered the cup and watched as the tired father filled it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you need to talk to us about?\u201d asked Ben, as he stirred a little cream into his coffee and sipped it.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust wanted to let you know that Corrigan and his sidekick are in custody, and the circuit judge\u2019ll be through later this month. It\u2019ll go to trial if you press charges, Ben. Is that what your plan is?\u201d<\/p>\n

Roy sat back waiting in mild amusement for the expected explosion.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t have long to wait.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course it is!\u201d snapped Ben, setting his cup down with a decided click!<\/em><\/strong> \u201cThe man held a gun on me and threatened my grandson!\u201d<\/p>\n

Coffee nodded. Purty much what I expected.<\/em> \u201cFrom what I hear, Pat had a role of his own to play in this,\u201d said Roy, eyeing the boy sternly.<\/p>\n

Pat straightened abruptly, then turned, staring into the hearth, his face growing as red as the flames.<\/p>\n

Ben merely looked intently back at Roy, one eyebrow cocked.<\/p>\n

Roy mirrored the raised eyebrow.<\/p>\n

Ben raised him two and then glowered.<\/p>\n

Roy gazed back blandly.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s expression lost none of the glower, but his dark eyes began to twinkle.<\/p>\n

And Roy then knew that Ben had things with young Patrick under control.\u00a0 Lord knew, Roy\u2019d been out here to the ranch enough times over the last twenty years, dealing with one misbehaving son or another. An errant grandson wouldn\u2019t be nothin\u2019 Ben couldn\u2019t handle, the boy\u2019s father bein\u2019 sick or not.<\/em><\/p>\n

Roy nodded, pleased. Ben and Patrick must have gotten it all straightened out between them.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood, I just wanted to be sure,\u201d Roy said cryptically. \u201cI\u2019d appreciate it if you\u2019d stop by the jail real soon and swear out the complaint, so\u2019s everythin\u2019ll be all neat and pretty when Judge Larrabee gets here. By the way, you and Pat might both have to give evidence at the trial.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCertainly,\u201d nodded Ben, emphatically.<\/p>\n

Pat, too, nodded his assent, though his eyes remained on the crackling flames in the hearth, hands jammed in his pockets and his shoulders tight.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that about does it, then,\u201d smiled Roy, rising to his feet. Hop Sing came out from the kitchen with a cup in his hand, surprised to see the Sheriff preparing to leave.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thank you kindly, Hop Sing.\u00a0 Why don\u2019t\u2019cha hold onto that for next time,\u201d Coffee grinned.<\/p>\n

Shaking his head in annoyance, the Oriental man chattered angrily in Chinese and went on back to his domain.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, how\u2019s Adam doin\u2019?\u201d asked Roy and he and Ben walked out to the yard again, Patrick trailing behind them.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s having a rough time,\u201d said Ben softly, rubbing the back of his neck, wearily. \u201cStill has a pretty high fever.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, lots of people are awful sick. John MacDonald stopped by to let me know what was goin\u2019 on and that he was closin\u2019 the school,\u201d said Roy a little too blandly.\u00a0 He retrieved his horse\u2019s reins, then turned and looked straight at Patrick.<\/p>\n

Startled, Pat raised his eyes and for the first time really looked at the Sheriff. Oh, Jaysus\u2026he knows\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Ben worked to keep his lips steady, looking down at the dirt. Well, young man, your chickens are truly coming home to roost now\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Flushing again, Pat also studied the ground and thought of turning around and going back into the house, but Coffee\u2019s next words held him fast in place with morbid fascination.<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw a friend of yours today, Patrick. Micah Devlin,\u201d the Sheriff said, his eyes twinkling with humor as he glanced at Ben.<\/p>\n

Surprised by this non sequitur,<\/em> Ben\u2019s eyes narrowed and he glanced between Pat and his old friend.<\/p>\n

Roy\u2019s tilted head and gaze at him said there was more to this whole mess that he was unaware of.<\/p>\n

Slowly, Ben pivoted his whole body around to study his young grandson.<\/p>\n

Pat swallowed hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cYep,\u201d continued Roy in excessive innocence as he checked the girth strap on his saddle, made sure his rifle was secure, and patted the horse\u2019s neck.\u00a0 \u201cHim and his pa were out mending fence on the Virginia City side of their property. Don\u2019t know \u2018zactly what happened, but Mike sure wasn\u2019t lookin\u2019 too happy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat looked up at him, confused, his mouth slightly agape \u201cHuh? How come?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, he wasn\u2019t movin\u2019 too comfortable, walkin\u2019 kinda stiff, like.\u201d\u00a0 Roy, very meaningfully, looked straight at Pat, tipped his head and then made a show of his gaze dropping to the seat of the boy\u2019s pants, then back up straight into his eyes.<\/p>\n

Ben lost his battle of keeping a grin off his face as Roy finally allowed a smug smile to cross his own craggy face.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir-ee, he sure didn\u2019t much enjoy settin\u2019 on that horse o\u2019 his. I wonder if his, um, condition<\/em>, has anything to do with that little hooky-playin\u2019 escapade o\u2019 yours that John MacDonald was tellin\u2019 me about?\u201d grinned Roy as he swung into his saddle. \u201cSee ya, Ben!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou take care, Roy!\u201d chuckled Ben, in amusement, as he waved goodbye. When the man rode around the corner of the barn, he slowly turned back to his grandson, his legs planted apart and his arms crossed over his chest, and his head tilted to one side as he raised an eyebrow, looking intently at the boy.<\/p>\n

In horror, Pat closed his eyes and leaned unhappily against the hitching rail, shaking his head. Oh, for cripes\u2019 sake! Now Mike was gonna be mad at him, too!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER TWENTY<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cChickee! Chickee!\u201d<\/p>\n

Hop Sing smiled at the antics of the chickens as they darted for the feed he sprayed over them and shook his head. Chickens were so easy to understand. He glanced back at the house, his smile fading.<\/p>\n

Mister Adam was still terribly ill. Hop Sing had spent the early morning hours with him after sending a weary Mister Ben to bed for some badly needed rest. Mister Patlick had slept through the night; first time in a week, Hop Sing sighed. He offered prayers to the Celestial Being that Number One Son would recover soon; the whole family was becoming worn with worry.<\/p>\n

Hop Sing lifted his head as he heard hoof beats in the front yard and set his feed bowl down, hurrying to the front of the house. The Boss was still asleep inside and Hop Sing intended to let him stay that way.<\/p>\n

A man he didn\u2019t recognize, dressed in black with a clergyman\u2019s collar, was dismounting from his horse, a sorry looking animal. Hop Sing approached as the holy man slapped the horse\u2019s reins around one of the hitching rails.<\/p>\n

\u201cI help you?\u201d Hop Sing smiled as he wiped his hands on his apron.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood mornin\u2019 to ye,\u201d smiled the man. \u201cMe name is Father O\u2019Reilly. I\u2019m from Saint Mary\u2019s in Virginia City. \u2018Twas wonderin\u2019, I was, if I might be seein\u2019 Mr. Adam Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n

The cook frowned, glancing back toward the house. \u201cSo sorry,\u201d he said , slowly, and shook his head. \u201cMissa Adam very ill. He have measles. You come back another time?\u201d<\/p>\n

The priest frowned. \u201cOh, it\u2019s sorry I am t\u2019hear that. Poor man\u2026seems to be goin\u2019 through Virginia City like wildfire, that.\u201d He paused a moment to think, then his face brightened. \u201c Ah! Might Mr. Ben Cartwright be available, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe might,\u201d came a warm voice from the front door.<\/p>\n

Both Hop Sing and the priest turned to see Ben coming out on to the porch, rolling up the cuffs of his shirt. He still looked tired, but certainly better than he had four hours earlier before. \u201cGood morning, Father.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should still be sleep!\u201d scolded Hop Sing, hands on his hips. \u201cYou velly tihad!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben frowned and glanced at the priest, who stifled a grin. \u201cI\u2019m perfectly fine,\u201d he said sternly. \u201cNow, would you be good enough to bring some coffee to the breakfast table? Father O\u2019Reilly and I will have a cup, please.\u201d<\/p>\n

Muttering in Chinese, in which his displeasure at his boss\u2019 early rising was obvious, Hop Sing stomped back into the house. Ben chuckled and waved the priest in.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat brings you out to the Ponderosa so early, Father?\u201d he asked genially as he followed the priest through the front door.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I heard some mutterings in town, sor, that worried me a bit, and I wanted to be sure all was well with young Patrick,\u201d admitted the priest, honestly. He nodded his thanks as he accepted his coffee.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre the boys already up and out?\u201d asked Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cUp early, eat bleakfast, out doing chores,\u201d Hop Sing snapped in reply. Then, he demonstrated a huge contrast in his demeanor as he beamed at the priest.\u00a0 \u201cYou hungry, Fatha? I fix you bleakfast, lickety split.\u201d No mention was made of breakfast for Ben, however.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sor, I thank ye,\u201d smiled the priest, tickled at the interesting employer\/employee dynamic playing out before him.<\/p>\n

Glaring at his employer, Hop Sing stomped back into the kitchen.<\/p>\n

Amused, O\u2019Reilly watched the older man close his eyes and clear his throat in embarrassed irritation. Then Ben relaxed his shoulders and once more gave his full attention to the priest.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, then, you said something about some rumblings in town?\u201d asked Ben, leaning back in his chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d nodded O\u2019Reilly. He glanced at the older man before him, hesitating a little. \u201c\u2018Tis concerning your young grandson and the gentleman we\u2019d been talking about when we last met.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s face darkened, his eyes becoming colder. \u201cCorrigan.\u201d<\/p>\n

The priest\u2019s eyebrows rose at the change in demeanor, though he could understand it, given what he\u2019d been hearing in town. \u201cAye,\u201d he nodded gravely.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Irish community is abuzz with his arrest, sor. Now, mind ye, not all are thinkin\u2019 he\u2019s been falsely accused,\u201d he said, with a tiny, humorless smile. \u201cBut, on a more serious note, \u2018tis the involvement in the whole affair o\u2019 young Patrick that concerns me<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Concerned me, too!<\/em>\u00a0 thought Ben grimly. \u201cWhy\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWal, sor, I suppose I should have made the connection earlier, when we first met, but it seems, from what I\u2019ve heard, a good part of Patrick\u2019s foolish connection with Corrigan had to do with wantin\u2019 to be learnin\u2019 more about his Riordan family. Am I right, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben noticed an odd expression on the priest\u2019s face, and his eyes narrowed a little. \u201cYes,\u201d he nodded, sipping his coffee. \u201cPatrick told us that was his major reason for spending time with Corrigan.\u201d<\/p>\n

The priest inhaled through his nose and blew out a breath in consternation. \u201cAnd then Eamon managed to befuddle the lad into believin\u2019 he was a sainted liberator of the Irish people, did he not?\u201d asked O\u2019Reilly dryly.<\/p>\n

Ben, startled, stared at the priest.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, don\u2019t be lookin\u2019 so surprised, Mr. Cartwright. Sure, and young Patrick isn\u2019t the first lad to find himself embroiled in Eamon Corrigan\u2019s Fenian dreams.\u201d He drew a pattern on the tablecloth with his finger, frowning as he hesitated, brows knit in consternation.<\/p>\n

The older man could see the priest was struggling with his words and grew more curious by the moment. \u00a0Ben leaned a little forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom the sound of it,\u201d observed Ben, elbows on the table and his fingers laced, \u201cyou\u2026know<\/em><\/strong> Eamon Corrigan?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d nodded the priest, still studying the pattern he was drawing with his finger. \u00a0\u201cI do.\u00a0 And I knew Padhraic Riordan, Mr. Cartwright. Knew him well.\u201d<\/p>\n

At Cartwright\u2019s start of surprise, he finally looked up. \u201cHe was a good man, Mr. Cartwright, a fine man. Peaceful, believin\u2019 in the law. Not an insurrectionist by nature, believe me. \u2018Twas wonderin\u2019, I was, if I might be able to have a word with lad and let him know that? I can only imagine the tales of his grandda that Corrigan\u2019s filled his head with,\u201d he muttered, as though trying not to allow a bitter tone to enter his voice.\u00a0 He drew in a breath again, getting himself under control, compressed his lips and shook his head, then looked up. \u201cThen again, I could be wrong. They were the best of friends for many years, Eamon and Paddy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben continued to study the priest, as though waiting for the rest of the story before he reacted.<\/p>\n

O\u2019Reilly sighed and leaned back. \u201cAnd, as young Patrick\u2019s confessor, I\u2019d also like to offer what solace I can to the boy\u2019s soul, easing any guilt he might be sufferin\u2019\u2026hopin\u2019, o\u2019course, that the lad is feelin\u2019 at least a little<\/em> guilty for his sins,\u201d he added with a rueful, but amused grin.<\/p>\n

Ben smiled thinly in return and studied the priest. \u201cWell, he\u2019s admitted his crimes, and been punished for them, though he\u2019s still harboring some guilt, which I think will be a good deterrent to him repeating them in the future. But\u2026\u201d He mused a moment. \u201cYou know, I think your idea is a good one. It\u2019d do Patrick good to hear some positive things about his Riordan \u00a0grandfather. Hop Sing!\u201d<\/p>\n

The Chinese man poked his head around the corner, still glowering at Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Patrick?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn barn, doing chores,\u201d snapped back the man, pulling his head abruptly back into the kitchen.<\/p>\n

Sighing in exasperation, Ben started to reply, until he heard the suppressed giggle at his side.<\/p>\n

The Irishman rose to his feet. \u201cI\u2019ll go on out to the barn, then, with yer permission, sor?\u201d<\/p>\n

Shaking his head with an embarrassed smile, Ben walked the priest to the front door.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Patrick brushed his hands off on his pants, carefully avoiding his seat, as he finished laying the new straw in the stalls. He swiped a sleeve across his forehead and sighed. Almost finished. As he worked, he wrestled to think of a way to get to see Wendy without tipping off his grandfather. Planning disobedience didn\u2019t sit nearly as easily with him as it might have a week earlier. It wasn\u2019t the fear of another hiding if he was caught that bothered him, although he certainly didn\u2019t look forward to that possibility. It was more that knowing he\u2019d disappoint Granddad and Dad that concerned him. Frowning, he toyed in his mind with all his options.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick?\u201d<\/p>\n

At the unfamiliar voice, the boy jumped and turned. He gaped in surprise to see the priest from St. Mary\u2019s. \u00a0Holy Mother! Here he was planning disobedience and who\u2019s right behind him, but a priest!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cFather O\u2019Reilly!\u201d he blurted.\u00a0 \u201cWhat\u2019re you doin\u2019 here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, lad, I was in the neighborhood,\u201d the priest easily fibbed as he walked into the barn, \u201cand thought I\u2019d stop by to be seeing how ye were. Haven\u2019t seen ye at Mass lately.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d said Patrick, flushing uncomfortably. \u201cWell, there\u2019s been a lot going on, what with my dad sick and all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, so I\u2019ve been hearin\u2019.\u201d O\u2019Reilly glanced at Black Jack, the only horse in the barn at the moment, and beamed. He walked over the horse and, holding the halter, examined him with a trained eye, then ruffled his mane and patted his muzzle. \u201cA fine animal, this!\u201d he exclaimed, looking back at the boy in admiration.<\/p>\n

Pat smiled with pride and walked towards him. \u201cHe\u2019s mine; name\u2019s Black Jack,\u201d the boy grinned, patting the horse himself. \u201cMy Granddad gave him to me for my birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAn amazin\u2019 gift, this,\u201d said the priest. \u201cCares for ye a great deal, does this grandda of yours?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat blushed a little; yeah, he cared, more than Patrick had ever dreamed. <\/em>\u201cYes, sir, I guess he does,\u201d the youngster admitted softly, a look of gentleness and shy love falling over his face.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Tis good, that. The relationship of a lad and his grandda should be a very special one,\u201d agreed O\u2019Reilly softly. He glanced at the boy. \u201cI understand ye know very little of yer other grandda\u2026Paddy Riordan.\u201d<\/p>\n

At the name, Pat\u2019s head snapped up and he looked at the tall Irishman beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve heard about your troubles, Padhraic<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy winced to hear his name in the Irish.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2019Tis for him you\u2019re named, are ye not?\u00a0 Padhraic O\u2019Riorda?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Silent, the boy nodded, his eyes on the barn floor.\u00a0 That\u2019s the way Ma pronounced it\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cIn town, the Irish are all awash with the news of Corrigan and the attempted theft.\u201d<\/p>\n

Uneasily, Pat scuffed at the barn floor with his boot, eyes downcast. His shoulders were hunched in shame.\u00a0 This was awful; even his priest knew about his dreadful behavior!<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, then,\u201d O\u2019Reilly said, matter of factly, turning away from the horses and gazing at the boy in front of him.\u00a0 \u201cI was wonderin\u2019, lad, if ye\u2019d like to hear a bit about your grandda and grandmam\u2026yer uncles\u2026 and<\/em> \u2026yer mam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s head snapped back up and he looked at the priest in astonishment. \u201cYou \u2026 you<\/em><\/strong> knew \u2018em too?!\u201d he breathed, eyes wide and leaning forward eagerly.<\/p>\n

O\u2019Reilly smiled. \u201cAye, lad. I did.\u201d He walked over to the bench against the stall half-wall and seated himself.<\/p>\n

Drawn in, Patrick followed and unthinking, sat down beside him, then uncomfortably scrambled back to his feet, wincing. O\u2019Reilly said nothing, but stifled a smile as the boy instead lounged nonchalantly against a supporting post, his face bright red.<\/p>\n

O\u2019Reilly began to talk about his tall, handsome grandfather, a blacksmith in Bally Lynch originally, and his grandmother, the beautiful Maggie Leary. He told him the tales of Paddy Riordan\u2019s prowess as an arm wrestler, and drinker; of his gentleness with his own bairns, and that of all the others in the village. He told a tale of a fatherless youngster of the village he\u2019d caught skipping out on the National School by hiding in the bogs, and how he\u2019d soundly swatted the youngster\u2019s bottom and sent him back to school with a warning of worse if he disobeyed his sainted mother\u2019s wishes again; that boy had ended up a fine businessman in Dublin, ever grateful to Paddy for his sternness all those years before. He talked of how Paddy would make sure the widows of the town never wanted for repairs on their huts, or food on their tables. He spoke of Paddy\u2019s pride in his three sons, and in his daughter.<\/p>\n

And he talked of the horrible existence the village suffered when the Great Hunger struck. Of the potato crops blackening in the bins, the hope of food for the village gone in one disastrous night in 1846. How Paddy had led the village\u2019s men into finding other work, some eventually in England on the wharves, others in fishing boats on the northern Irish coast. Paddy Riordan had been the village spokesman with the English protectorate, his silver tongue always managing to soothe ruffled feathers on both sides of the bargaining table. But as the anger and fear brought on by the famine escalated, Paddy had been drawn into the Fenian movement despite himself, unable to fight his destiny.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was a peacemaker, Patrick,\u201d said O\u2019Reilly gently, as he studied the youngster\u2019s pale face while he listened to the horrors of Ireland in those troubled days. \u201cViolence was not yer grandfather\u2019s way, though he fought when he had to. He saw pain and suffering and tried hard to ease it.\u201d\u00a0 The priest winced, shaking his head in memory.\u00a0 Wiping his eyes, the priest drew in a deep breath, shaking his head with sadness.\u00a0 Then he sighed, and smiled at the boy, reaching out a hand and touching the boy\u2019s cheek.\u00a0 \u201cYe have his eyes.\u00a0 All his bairns did, and clearly\u2026 Siobhan passed them to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick drew in a shuddering breath and nodded, backing away uneasily. He didn\u2019t know what to think right now. \u00a0\u201cSo Ma said,\u201d he whispered, hoarsely, unable to break his eyes from those of the priest.<\/p>\n

Father O\u2019Reilly nodded, understanding. \u201cMediation, calmin\u2019 the hot tempers\u2026 sure, and that was his great strength, and he used it whenever possible. It was unfortunate, it \u2018twas, he was born at the time he was, because the inevitability of insurrection tore him apart.\u201d He drew himself up straight. \u201cHe was \u2026 a good man, Patrick.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick hung on every word, getting a much fuller picture of the grandfather he\u2019d sought to understand, and was touched by the priest\u2019s gentle admiration of Padhraic Riordan.<\/p>\n

Father O\u2019Reilly rubbed the back of his neck, pacing a bit, trying to figure out how to tell his tale in a way that would make sense to the youngster.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn 1855, Bally Lynch was a hotbed of rebellion, lad. It was only through Paddy Riordan\u2019s efforts that the English didn\u2019t come through and burn it to the ground years before. When the trouble of the election happened it was a horrible time. Paddy\u2019s hanging, and that of his sons and followers, broke the heart of the village. They never really recovered. I know. I was there,\u201d he sighed. \u201c\u2018Twas right after that I spent months alone, re-examining me faith, and me vocation. After those months of agonizing, \u2018twas Paddy\u2019s words and hopes that rang in me ears and renewed me love of God. Only a giving and caring God could have created such a man, lad. I\u2019ll never understand his reasoning in taking him from us. Neither could Eamon.\u201d<\/p>\n

At the sound of Corrigan\u2019s name, Patrick\u2019s face darkened in anger, and he stared resolutely at the ground, his jaw set in stubborn fury.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, lad\u2026\u201d chided Father O\u2019Reilly, seeing the boy\u2019s reaction. \u201cDo not hate Corrigan. He is what he is for the same reasons I am what I<\/em><\/strong> am. He reacted differently, but that which drove him to his way of life was the same pain.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat raised his head, his eyes bitter and angry. \u201cHe\u2019s a liar and a thief!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a haunted man, Patrick,\u201d O\u2019Reilly rebutted gently. \u201cYe must remember, his own darlin\u2019 son danced at the end of that hangman\u2019s rope alongside yer grandda and uncles. \u2018Tis a horrible thing to watch one\u2019s child die.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it excusin\u2019 him you are?!\u201d demanded Patrick hotly, flushing with indignation, unthinkingly falling back into the speech patterns of his childhood.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it condemnin\u2019 him you <\/em>are?\u201d asked O\u2019Reilly softly, the contrast stark in the quiet of the barn. \u201cYou, who\u2019ve never walked a step in his brogues?\u201d<\/p>\n

In frustration, Patrick pulled himself upright from leaning against the post and jammed his hands in his pockets, frowning as he turned away, thinking hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cLad, the things we experience are what drive us to do the things we do.\u201d O\u2019Reilly\u2019s voice was quiet, reasonable.\u00a0 He tilted his head to the side, searching for words to make the boy understand. \u201cWatchin\u2019 his friends and family tortured and killed\u2026himself whipped to within an inch of his life\u2026seeing his family\u2019s future end in the death of his son\u2026\u201d\u00a0 The priest sighed and shook his head, helplessly shrugging his shoulders and spreading out his hands. \u201cAll of these things contributed to make Eamon Corrigan who he is. He truly does work for the freedom of Ireland. I cannot sanction his methods any longer, but I can and do understand his desires. They\u2019re me own, even today. It\u2019s thankful, I am, never to have suffered as he did. As your mother did.\u201d<\/p>\n

At her mention, Pat winced and turned back to the priest, pain filling his eyes. Hesitantly, almost afraid to hear the answer, he sought the priest\u2019s eyes, almost pleading. \u201cYou\u2026 you knew her, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

Father O\u2019Reilly saw the ambivalence \u2013 do I want to know?\u00a0 Or would it be better not<\/strong> to know?! <\/em>\u2013 painted on the boy\u2019s face, and nodded. \u201cI knew of her, not well, but knew of her,\u201d he smiled, gently. \u201cA beautiful lass, Siobhan.\u00a0 Gentle and kind. In love with life.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Sean Corrigan,\u201d sighed Pat walking slowly back toward him.<\/p>\n

Startled, O\u2019Reilly looked at him, quizzically. \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was in love with Mr. Corrigan\u2019s son,\u201d answered Pat, frowning at him.<\/p>\n

O\u2019Reilly\u2019s eyebrow cocked. \u201cWas she? \u2018Tis news to me,\u201d his voice laced with wonder.<\/p>\n

Now, trying to understand this, \u00a0Pat stared at the priest.\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cBut\u2026 but Mr. Corrigan said they was gonna be married.\u201d<\/p>\n

Wheels turned and tumblers clicked into place in O\u2019Reilly\u2019s mind, and his anger at Corrigan renewed itself. He got to his feet, his mouth set and walked a bit away from the lad, getting himself under control.<\/p>\n

What wickedness!<\/em> he fumed. Truly, Eamon has fallen further than I thought!<\/em><\/p>\n

Staring at the black horse in order to wick away the rage at Corrigan, to give himself something to focus on and settle himself, O\u2019Reilly finally was able to speak \u00a0calmly. \u201cTo the best of me knowledge, lad, Sean Corrigan loved her, but not she him. They\u2019d known each other since they were small bairns, and she viewed him as a brother, not a lover.\u201d He turned \u00a0back at the boy. \u201c\u2018Twas Corrigan himself who told ye she and Sean were betrothed?\u201d<\/p>\n

Confused, Pat nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd, I suppose, he told ye if ye followed him, it\u2019d be as it should have been all along, that if all was right in God\u2019s heaven, you\u2019d have been his <\/em>grandson and not Ben Cartwright\u2019s?\u201d continued O\u2019Reilly inexorably.<\/p>\n

Patrick\u2019s quick mind worked overtime as he struggled with the implications of what O\u2019Reilly was saying.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoly mother\u2026\u201d he breathed, his face pale and leaning back against the post again, in shock and dismay.<\/p>\n

His heart plummeted.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen it was<\/em> all a lie! It was all a lie to get me to steal for \u2018im!\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s anger erupted then and he kicked at a feed bucket at his feet, furiously.<\/p>\n

O\u2019Reilly was at his side in a flash, and grasped his upper arms, giving him a shake. His expression was intent, fierce. \u00a0\u201cPatrick!\u201d he said harshly. \u201cDo not give in to this, lad!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he lied to me! The bastard used<\/em> me!\u201d yelled Pat, fighting back with tears of anger and hurt in his eyes. He wrenched himself from side to side, desperate to free himself, and was shocked by the strength of the priest\u2019s grip.\u00a0 Somehow, the idea that a parish priest could have this much physical power surprised him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, he did! \u2018Tis all true!\u201d O\u2019Reilly ground out. \u201cBut in the end, \u2018twas your own good conscience and the love ye have of the grandfather the good Lord did<\/em> give ye that made ye decide t\u2019take yer own path! Ye beat him, Patrick, d\u2019ye not see? Ye beat<\/em> him!\u201d<\/p>\n

Panting, Pat finally stopped struggling and locked eyes with the priest, eyes wide.\u00a0 Beat him?\u00a0 How on earth\u2026 the man had made a fool of him! How\u2026<\/p>\n

Seeing his had the youngster\u2019s attention, O\u2019Reilly nodded, easing his grip on the boy\u2019s arms and instead massaging his shoulders.\u00a0 \u201cPaddy Riordan would have been proud o\u2019 ye that night, lad. He\u2019d ha\u2019 been so, so proud o\u2019 ye,\u201d said O\u2019Reilly gently. \u201cHonesty. Truth. Honor. Ye showed ye had them all, even at that difficult moment. Paddy Riordan\u2019s blood, and Siobhan\u2019s, flows through ye, lad, just as sure as the sun rises.\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy winced, then swallowed hard, remembering his shame. The priest shook him gently. \u201cNay\u2026 when it counted, lad, ye made the right choice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s breath hitched as he felt his face begin to crumple.<\/p>\n

\u201cBe just as proud o\u2019 yer Cartwright blood, lad,\u201d said the priest gently, tipping his chin up.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m thinkin\u2019, maybe, for once orange and green worked together to help ye make that right choice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s welling blue eyes stared into the older priest\u2019s. He saw compassion and pity there, and understanding.<\/p>\n

And finally, gently, O\u2019Reilly drew the youngster into his strong arms and was grateful to feel the hug returned.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

After O\u2019Reilly left, Patrick retreated to the hayloft to think. Finally, some of his questions were answered:about his mother, about his Irish grandfather, and about himself. His Irish family, and his American one. The learning process had been a painful one, but necessary.<\/p>\n

Pat had always felt as though his life was like the jigsaw puzzles he\u2019d seen as a child, except that there were so many integral pieces missing, keeping the picture incomplete. Now, he realized the pieces available to him were where they should be. Though the image was still incomplete, it was only because those pieces still left out represented the parts of his life yet to come, the experiences of his future.<\/p>\n

Now, he\u2019d be able to fit together himself.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

It was a mentally exhausted Patrick that wandered back into the house near lunchtime, looking for his grandfather. The great room was deserted. Pat felt strange; he looked around the room with a new eye. The events and occurrences of this room had been the ones, among others, that had formed his father\u2019s way of looking at the world. Different ones had formed his grandfather\u2019s view. Pat sighed heavily and stretched. He felt like he\u2019d grown up a hundred years in one short morning.<\/p>\n

He dragged his heels upstairs, figuring he\u2019d find his grandfather in his dad\u2019s room. Sure enough, Granddad was seated at his father\u2019s bedside, reading while his father, very pale, slept. Ben looked up as Pat poked his head in the room quietly, and smiled, beckoning him in.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow is he?\u201d Pat whispered, looking down at his father. Adam seemed to be resting comfortably. His breathing seemed a little easier, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuiet. More so than I\u2019ve seen him in days,\u201d replied Ben, his voice equally as soft.<\/p>\n

Pat stood beside the bed and studied him. As he looked, his mind traveled to his mother and imagined them together; he knew the passion his mother was capable of, and after witnessing the kiss his father had shared that day with Mrs. Carter, knew the depth of his father\u2019s. His parents could have been so happy together, if it hadn\u2019t been for the things in both their pasts that had kept them apart. Sighing, he reached out his hand and lightly pushed a lock of damp hair off his father\u2019s forehead.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe don\u2019t feel as hot to me as he did before,\u201d he said very quietly, frowning, and glancing at his grandfather. He was startled to see the gentleness on his grandfather\u2019s face as he studied him.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you have a good talk with Father O\u2019Reilly?\u201d asked Ben, with understanding.<\/p>\n

Pat flushed a little and sighed, walking over to the window and looking out. \u201cYeah, I did,\u201d he murmured. \u201cLearned a lotta things I didn\u2019t know before. I guess – I guess it\u2019s easier to understand what happened between him,\u201d he said, glancing at Adam, \u201cand my Ma. A lot o\u2019 what Father O\u2019Reilly said made some good sense.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben nodded thoughtfully. \u201cUnderstanding what makes others do the things they do helps us understand ourselves, Pat. I\u2019m glad he came by.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, me too,\u201d said the boy quietly. He\u2019d made a difficult decision out in the hayloft after his talk with O\u2019Reilly; he hoped he\u2019d now be able to live with it, depending on his grandfather\u2019s answer. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned to Ben. \u201cGranddad, I know I\u2019m confined to the ranch and I ain\u2019t supposed to leave it, but -\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben eyed him, and kept his face impassive, letting the boy do this at his own pace.<\/p>\n

Swallowing hard, and praying to himself, Patrick looked at his grandfather. \u201cI\u2019d like to have your permission to go into town just to say g\u2019bye to Wendy Carter. She and her ma are leavin\u2019 soon. I guess her ma got some kind of a job in San Francisco. I promise I\u2019d just go there and come right back, honest. Can I go? Please?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben fought down showing the great pride he felt in the youngster. He knew Pat was scared he\u2019d say no and had a good feeling that if Ben said just that, the boy would unhappily abide by his decision. He decided that this would be a great opportunity to catch his grandson \u201cbeing good.\u201d He got to his feet and walked over to him, his head down and hands in his pockets, thoughtful.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me, Pat, what would you say if I told you that you couldn\u2019t go?\u201d asked Ben quietly. \u201cThat, considering your behavior and the fact that your father confined you to the ranch, I couldn\u2019t see my way clear to allow you do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick looked up into the dark brown eyes, and sighed, then stared down at the tips of his boots. \u201cI\u2019d obey you,\u201d he said softly. He raised his eyes once more. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t like it, but I\u2019d obey you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben beamed then and reached out a hand tenderly squeezing the boy\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI had a feeling you\u2019d say that. And since that\u2019s your answer, I think I can manage to give you my permission.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat breathed in relief and grinned at his grandfather.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo can I.\u201d<\/p>\n

Both Ben and Patrick jumped, turning in shock toward the bed. Adam, pale and weak, lay there with a small smile on his face. It contrasted oddly with the rough, red rash spreading over his forehead, the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam!\u201d crowed Ben, a big grin on his face as he approached his son\u2019s bedside, putting out a hand to his forehead. \u201cYour fever\u2019s broken!\u201d he said, pleased. \u201cHow do you feel?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA bit weak,\u201d admitted Adam, shifting uncomfortably in bed, \u201cbut a lot better.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat was embarrassed at the blinking he had to do to keep the tears that were stinging his eyes staying there. To cover his relief at his father\u2019s having passed the crisis of his fever, he started to laugh as he looked at the rash.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s so funny?\u201d asked Adam tiredly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow I know what you\u2019d\u2019a looked like with freckles!\u201d the boy chuckled. \u201cAll ya\u2019d need with them spots is red hair to be a real Irishman!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Patrick made it into Virginia City in record time, at a full gallop, and ignoring his own discomfort. He wryly realized he\u2019d had a lot of practice in the last week or two learning to ride while suffering from a \u00a0sore backside.<\/p>\n

With Pat having been confined to the ranch for so long, Jack hadn\u2019t gotten the exercise he\u2019d been needing, so the youngster gave him his head and let him fly. He once again slipped behind the houses near Wendy\u2019s but this time he didn\u2019t have to sneak into her yard. He didn\u2019t have to waste time climbing trees, either. Wendy was outside hanging out laundry on the clothesline.<\/p>\n

\u201cWendy!\u201d he called, running up. Startled, she whirled around looking for the source of the voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat!\u201d she said, in surprise, putting the sopping blouse she was holding back into \u00a0the basket.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, don\u2019t – \u201d he started, glancing at the house, worried he\u2019d get her into trouble.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Mama isn\u2019t home. She\u2019ll be gone until after supper,\u201d she reassured him. \u201cHow are you? I \u2026 well, I heard about what happened between you and that Irish fellow I met in the stagecoach. I\u2019m really sorry.\u201d Her green eyes were filled with sympathy.<\/p>\n

Pat blushed a little. \u201cYeah, me too,\u201d he said honestly, flushing. \u201cI made some pretty stupid mistakes these last few weeks.\u201d\u00a0 He hesitated a moment, then steeled himself and looked her straight in the eyes, respectfully. \u201cI wanted to apologize for making you lie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t,\u201d she said with a little grin. \u201cMama never asked about you, so I never had to lie to her. I really don\u2019t think I could have, anyway. I just can\u2019t lie to my mother. I hope that doesn\u2019t make you mad.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her voice was soft, but her experession was anxious.<\/p>\n

He smiled, shaking his head.\u00a0 \u201cNo. No, it doesn\u2019t. I\u2019m glad of it. I didn\u2019t have no right askin\u2019 you to do somethin\u2019 like that. I\u2019m glad it all worked out okay for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid it work out for you?\u201d she asked, gently. \u201cDid you get in trouble?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, yeah, I did,\u201d he admitted ruefully. \u201cBut it\u2019s all over now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAren\u2019t you in trouble for being here?\u201d she asked worriedly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I asked permission to come and my grandfather said I could.\u201d<\/p>\n

She giggled a little to see the amazement his expression exhibited at that realization.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Pat, I\u2019m glad!\u201d She exhaled in relief to learn he hadn\u2019t disobeyed yet again.\u00a0 Then she shrewdly studied his handsome face, looking for \u2026 what?<\/em> he wondered.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you\u2019re all right? Really all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

He relaxed, both surprised and pleased.\u00a0 She was so much more intuitive than he\u2019d ever given her credit for. He could see that \u00a0she\u2019d realized that this whole thing must have been hard on him, inside.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he grinned, then his smile faded. \u201cWell, not really. I\u2026 uh\u2026 I heard about you and your ma leavin.\u201d<\/p>\n

Wendy grew pale, her eyes welling up, and her composure threatening to become undone. She dropped her eyes, drew in a deep breath, then looked up at him, her chin high and nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I heard about your father,\u201d she replied. \u201cIs he still sick?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but the fever broke a little while ago, so he\u2019s gonna be alright,\u201d nodded Pat, scuffing at the ground with his boot. \u201cListen, can you get away for a while?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I think so. Let me just finish hanging out the wash.\u201d<\/p>\n

Within an hour, they had walked down the Geiger Grade Road.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026you\u2019re really leavin\u2019, huh?\u201d he asked quietly as they walked, glancing briefly into her pretty eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cMama got a good job in San Francisco,\u201d she explained softly. \u201cIt\u2019s a good chance for us, Pat. We have to go.\u201d Her eyes searched his face.<\/p>\n

He nodded, shrugging, his hands in his pockets. \u201cYeah, I guess. But I\u2019m really gonna miss you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to miss you, too,\u201d she agreed softly, her eyes welling with tears. \u201cI hope that this time I won\u2019t have to pick up and move again so soon. I never get to know my friends very well.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI really wanted to get to know you.\u201d His voice was gruff. \u201cReal well. I\u2026 I like you, Wendy. I like you an awful lot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you write to me?\u201d she asked, tremulously, almost fearing his answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure. You send me your address, an\u2019 I\u2019ll write to ya,\u201d he nodded, not looking at her as they walked along.<\/p>\n

She looked a bit disconcerted by his answer, making him wonder if it had been the right one. Helplessly, she looked around at where they were. He saw her look toward the battered, ramshackle house by the side of the road \u00a0that looked as though a strong wind could blow it over and was surprised to see her walk toward it.<\/p>\n

She gently eased herself down onto the dilapidated front steps of the falling-down structure. Frowning, Patrick sighed and followed her.\u00a0 He glanced around them, then gingerly sat down beside her. He shifted uncomfortably a little, sighed and decided to make the best of it. They sat quietly side by side for a moment, then Pat slowly put out his hand and covered her small one. He felt her tremble, then glanced up at her. \u201cI wish\u2026 I wish you could stay\u2026 or I could go,\u201d he said softly, allowing his fingers to run over her hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Pat, I do too!\u201d she whispered, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. \u201cYou\u2019re the only boy that\u2019s ever\u2026 I don\u2019t know, ever really understood. The minute I met you and talked to you, I felt like we\u2019d known each other forever!\u201d<\/p>\n

Silently, he pushed his gray hat back farther on his head and allowed his hand to gently rest on her soft cheek, lightly catching a teardrop on the tip of his finger, and studied the drop as it stayed on his fingertip. \u201cWish I could keep this,\u201d he said gruffly. \u201cNot \u2018cos I want to remember you cryin\u2019\u2026 just \u2018cos I want to remember you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He leaned forward slowly. She didn\u2019t move. As he drew closer, she closed her eyes and sighed, readying herself. He tipped his head slightly to the side, remembering the few times previously he\u2019d tried to kiss a girl and their noses got in the way, and slowly allowed his lips to lightly touch hers.<\/p>\n

It was a sweet, innocent kiss, and her young lips clung briefly to his. He pulled back and opened his eyes again, searching hers for permission. He saw her face, glistening with tears hanging on their long eyelashes, her pink mouth still budded with his kiss on her lips. She waited, not moving. Taking off his hat, he leaned forward again.<\/p>\n

This time, he pressed a little harder, and moved his arm around her, slowly, gently gathering her to him, as he\u2019d seen his father do with her mother. His mind whirled as the incredible sensations assaulted his brain, like the waves of the ocean pounding against his consciousness. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he brought his other arm around her and drew her tightly to him, kissing her lips, her face, her neck.<\/p>\n

For several minutes the youngsters clung to each other, Patrick stroking her hair and Wendy able to feel his strong, muscular back beneath his jacket.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Pat\u2026\u201d Wendy breathed, feeling as though her mind were spiraling downward into a rose-colored mine-shaft. She\u2019d had boys steal kisses before; never had she given of herself this way before. She was astounded by the feelings that washed over her again and again, making her breathe faster.<\/p>\n

As though an electric current passed between them, the two broke apart, shocked.\u00a0 Panting, staring at each other, shaken, the youngsters flushed scarlet in embarrassment.<\/p>\n

\u201cGod Almighty,\u201d Pat breathed, turning away, horribly embarrassed. \u201cWendy\u2026 I\u2026 God Almighty!\u201d<\/p>\n

Wendy misunderstood, and her face crumpled in tears as her face crumpled in confusion and shame, thinking he was rebuffing her. She jumped to her feet to run, blinded with tears. But he shot out his hand and pulled her around.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait a minute!\u201d he said harshly. \u201cThis wasn\u2019t your fault! Don\u2019t run off thinkin\u2019 this was your fault, Wendy! It was mine! I had no right\u2026 God, Wendy, I\u2019m so sorry!\u201d<\/p>\n

She searched his face as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She saw honesty there.<\/p>\n

\u201cJaysus, Wendy\u2026 I didn\u2019t know\u2026 I didn\u2019t know I\u2019d lose control like that,\u201d he said, pale and truly shaken. And he was shocked to realize he now understood how his father and Wendy\u2019s mother might have been feeling that day on the beach, as well.\u00a0 Once more, his whole world shifted and resettled itself with new awarenesses. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry. Please don\u2019t be mad.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shakily drew in a breath. \u201cI\u2019m not mad,\u201d she said softly, tentatively reaching up and touching his hard, lean cheek. \u201cAnd I\u2019m not sorry. I\u2019m glad we stopped, but I\u2019m not sorry you did it.\u201d She managed a tremulous smile. \u201cAt least I\u2019ll have something to remember,\u201d she said, with a little chuckle.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he breathed, nodding in amazement. \u201cMe, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

He glanced at the sun outside, falling slowly. \u201cWe\u2019d better be getting back. I promised granddad I\u2019d come straight home.\u201d He looked back at her, his throat closing a little. \u201cI just had to say good-bye.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m real glad you did,\u201d she said softly. \u201cI\u2019m going to miss you… very much.\u201d<\/p>\n

And after a few moments more of gentle, more innocent kisses, he took her hand and started walking her home.<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, I\u2019m warning you! You get out of that bed too soon and you\u2019re going to end up sicker than you were before!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoc, I feel FINE!\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

That last word was more of a growl than a reply, and Paul Martin was having none of it. \u201cWell, you\u2019re not<\/em> fine!\u201d he snapped, sternly shoving Adam back against his pillows as he had a bad coughing fit. \u201cAnd considering the grief and worry you\u2019ve just put your family through, either you lie back and behave yourself or I\u2019ll give you a sedative that\u2019ll make you sleep for a week!\u201d<\/p>\n

Sulking, Adam sat bolt upright, crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled in frustration, the tickle in his chest subsiding.<\/p>\n

Doc briskly shut his bag and glared at his patient in exasperation. Then he sighed, relenting.\u00a0 He shook his head with a smile. The debonair Adam Cartwright just looked so darned funny with his face \u2013 and darned near every inch of his body! – mottled up with the measles rash. \u201cTell you what. Now that the fever\u2019s broken, you can read again. Fair enough?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head, fighting the urge to scratch. He was irritable, uncomfortable, itchy…and bored! <\/em>\u201cYeah,\u201d muttered Adam. He managed to keep a smirk off his face: he didn\u2019t mention that he\u2019d sneaked a book or two already.<\/p>\n

Paul shook his head and grinned as he headed toward the door. \u201cRelax, Adam. Three or four days and you\u2019ll be out of that bed. A week and you\u2019ll be back to normal.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Downstairs, Ben was seated at his desk working on the accounts as Joe and Hoss played a game of checkers. Patrick sat at the dining room table surrounded by his McGuffey Reader, his history and arithmetic texts and his slate, doing some schoolwork. Dad might be ill in bed, but it didn\u2019t stop him from assigning lessons for Pat to work on, to make up for his days of hooky playing. All four glanced up as Paul came downstairs.<\/p>\n

Ben rose to his feet and came up to meet the doctor, a smile on his face. \u201cSo, how\u2019s the patient?\u201d he asked. Hop Sing set a coffee service on the sofa table and glanced at the doctor.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, thanks, Hop Sing,\u201d smiled Paul, accepting a cup. \u201cWell, he\u2019s grumpy as an old bear with a sore head, but physically he\u2019s coming along just fine. The fever\u2019s gone, rash is starting to fade. He just needs a little more time. Another three or four days and he\u2019ll be up and around.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that sure is good news!\u201d grinned Hoss.<\/p>\n

Pat looked up from his books, a happier expression on his face. \u201cHe\u2019s really gonna be okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s going to be fine, Pat,\u201d assured Paul with a smile, then turned back to Ben. \u201cAnd Dave is well enough to get back to work, too. Just have him take it easy for a few days.\u201d He glanced back at Patrick, gesturing at the table. \u201cAnd it\u2019s a good thing you\u2019ve got those schoolbooks out, young man. School goes back into session Monday morning. The epidemic seems to have eased.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat sighed and sagged back in his chair, a disappointed expression on his face. \u201cAw\u2026 I knew<\/em> it was too good ta last,\u201d he complained mournfully, much to the laughter of the adults in the room.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Adam stared into space, still laying back against his pillows. His mind was a million miles away\u2026 or rather, closer to roughly twenty miles away, thinking of Veronica and their afternoon at the lake. He closed his eyes and sighed.<\/p>\n

He heard footsteps along the hallway and a knock at his half-open door and swallowed the lump in his throat. Drawing in a deep breath he opened his eyes, a little surprised to see Joe, stick his head around the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, older brother,\u201d grinned Joe coming in and perching on the side of the bed. \u201cI hear the doc\u2019s gonna give you a clean bill of health pretty soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Adam nodded, swallowing hard.\u00a0 Firming his mouth, he reached once more for the book that had dropped to his lap and made a show of opening it and settling himself to read.<\/p>\n

Wall up; shutters closed.<\/em><\/p>\n

Unfortunately, Joseph didn\u2019t seem to take the hint, remaining there, perched quietly on the end of his bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam\u2026what\u2019s going on with you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam heaved in a shuddering breath and sighed.\u00a0 He hesitated, his book propped on his lap, and tugged on his ear.\u00a0 Then he looked over at his brother. \u201cI \u2026 I guess I\u2019m just kind of tired, Joe. Don\u2019t worry about it,\u201d he said, managing a small smile, tugging on the cuffs of his nightshirt.<\/p>\n

Gotcha!<\/em>\u00a0 Joe\u2019s eyes gleamed with triumph. His eldest brother only did that – tugging on his cuffs \u00a0– when he was trying to avoid something. \u201cAw, c\u2019mon, Adam,\u201d Joe murmured. \u201cYou\u2019ve been down in the dumps and snapping at everybody. It can\u2019t all<\/em> be because you\u2019re not feelin\u2019 well. What\u2019s really bothering you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Annoyed at being seen through, Adam rolled his eyes and glared. Either I\u2019m sicker than I thought or that little brat is getting better at reading me!\u00a0 <\/em>\u201cJust leave me alone, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe threw his hands out in defeat and got to his feet.\u00a0 \u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam guiltily glanced up. \u201cJoe, wait a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe turned back, an eyebrow cocked.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, I\u2019m sorry,\u201d Adam said quietly. \u201cI just \u2013 well, I\u2019ve got something on my mind, that\u2019s all. I\u2019m sorry I snapped at you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you can\u2019t talk about it, right?\u201d asked Joe dryly. \u201cThe great Adam Cartwright isn\u2019t allowed to be seen hurting, right? Sorry. I forgot.\u201d\u00a0 He closed the door quietly behind him.<\/p>\n

Out in the hallway, Joe exhaled and leaned dejectedly against the door jamb. He jumped suddenly when the doorframe beneath his shoulders shuddered as something slammed against it. He heard what had to be his brother\u2019s book splay open the floor, the pages riffling, and shook his head. There was definitely something bothering his older brother. Maybe he just wasn\u2019t the one to talk to him about it.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cDadburn it! Whaddya expect me<\/em> to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I<\/em><\/strong> don\u2019t know, do I?\u201d snapped Joe, pitching the soiled straw into the wheelbarrow with unusual energy. \u201cBut he\u2019s sure gotta talk to somebody!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, c\u2019mon, you know Adam as well as I do. If he don\u2019t wanna talk about something, there ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 that\u2019s gonna make him do it!\u201d declared Hoss, turning back to the harnesses he was sorting and hanging.<\/p>\n

Joe leaned on the fork, shaking his head in frustration, then wilted.\u00a0 None of this was Hoss\u2019 fault or his job to fix; the big man was right. \u00a0\u201cHe\u2019s miserable, Hoss,\u201d he muttered in worry. \u201cThere\u2019s something really wrong; I just know it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, and I think I know what it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Both Hoss and Joe turned toward the door as Patrick entered leading Black Jack. Pat had been sent out to check the drainage ditches to the south, near the Shaughnessy place. As he walked into the barn, he wore a thoughtful look\u2026 an expression both Hoss and Joe had often seen on their oldest brother\u2019s face.\u00a0 One of compassionate concern.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell? You gonna leave us in suspense?\u201d demanded Joe, irritably.<\/p>\n

\u201cYep,\u201d nodded Pat, uncinching his saddle.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick!\u201d warned Joe, dragging out the syllables ominously.<\/p>\n

But Hoss grinned. Yeah, that close-mouthed attitude was pure \u2018Adam\u2019, too.<\/em>\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cLeave \u2018im alone, Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, Joe!\u201d grinned Pat. \u201c\u2018Leave \u2018im alone!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe muttered to himself and continued his work.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Adam stood at his window, in slippers and dressing gown, and looked out over the darkening kitchen garden, scratching his itchy chest uncomfortably. He heard a knock at the door and turned. Pat came in with a tray, looked at the empty bed, then glanced around.<\/p>\n

\u201cAin\u2019t you supposed to be in there?\u201d asked Pat, an eyebrow raised as he tipped his head toward the bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t start,\u201d warned his father sternly.<\/p>\n

Pat shrugged and set the tray down the bedside table.<\/p>\n

Adam glanced back and saw his son patiently waiting. \u201cWell?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI been told \u2018don\u2019t come back down without an empty tray\u2019,\u201d he replied, as if reciting a lesson in school.<\/p>\n

Adam made a face.<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon, Dad, gimme a break. You don\u2019t have to answer to Granddad. I already done that once this week.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam stared at his son and shook his head at the impertinent grin on his son\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

Sighing, he trudged back towards the bed.\u00a0 He shrugged off his robe and slippers – with a sort of energy that intimated they\u2019d personally offended him somehow – before climbing back in the bed; again<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Patrick placed the tray on his father\u2019s lap and smiled with approval.<\/p>\n

Adam glared.<\/p>\n

Pat continued to smile benignly.<\/p>\n

Adam gave up.\u00a0 \u201cHave a seat,\u201d he grunted begrudgingly, nodding toward the easy chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, thanks,\u201d replied Pat, casually leaning against the wall.<\/p>\n

Adam glanced at him and remembered what he\u2019d said earlier.\u00a0 Nonchalantly, he gestured to the bed. \u201cThen why don\u2019t you stretch out and relax? I haven\u2019t seen you in \u2026 what, two hours?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sure enough, Patrick brightened at that idea and stretched himself out. On his side. Very<\/em> carefully, Adam noted.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026\u201d Adam took a swallow of cold milk and asked coolly, \u201cyour grandfather still have a strong right arm?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s jaw dropped, eyebrows crawling into his hairline. \u201cWhat?\u201d he sputtered.<\/p>\n

\u201cI asked if my father still has a strong right arm.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat shook his head, grinning. \u201cAin\u2019t there nothin\u2019 that gets past you?\u201d he demanded, in reluctant admiration.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot much. But then again, I\u2019ve been sick,\u201d said Adam apologetically, eyes twinkling.<\/p>\n

Pat laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, how about an answer?\u201d asked Adam, with a devilish grin.<\/p>\n

Pat squirmed a little. \u201cTo what?\u201d he said uneasily, still avoiding lying on his back and studying the pattern of his father\u2019s quilt with great focus and attention.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou two get everything straightened out?\u201d asked Adam quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d muttered Pat, giving up and shrugging. \u201cI guess so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExcept\u2026..?\u201d prompted Adam, as he picked up a sandwich from the tray.<\/p>\n

Pat sighed and rested his head on his fist. \u201cExcept to say\u2026 I\u2019m sorry. To you, I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve already taken care of that with your grandfather?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd, I take it, your grandfather \u2026 \u2018stood in\u2019 for me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat flushed uncomfortably. \u201cYes, sir,\u201d he repeated softly. Then he gave in and smiled wryly. \u201cAnd to answer your question, yes, he\u2019s still got a strong right arm. A real <\/em>strong right arm!\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam chuckled and nibbled on his sandwich..\u00a0 \u201cI figured as much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, until Granddad\u2026uh\u2026 well, y\u2019know\u2026\u201d he blushed furiously, \u201c\u2026 I figured that there wasn\u2019t nobody who had things as rough as me. I mean, I just couldn\u2019t believe Granddad could ever have been as hard on you<\/em><\/strong> as you are on me.\u00a0 I sure found out different,\u201d he sighed, shaking his head and still avoiding rolling onto his back.<\/p>\n

Adam chuckled, and eased back against his pillows, one hand behind his head as he remembered. \u201cPat, from the time I was about eleven until I left for college, I was sure that nobody in the world had as tough a father as I did. I used to get so mad at him whenever he punished me and so caught up in believing how unfair I thought he was.\u201d<\/p>\n

Interested now, Pat\u2019s expression was intent as he rested one cheek on his fist, listening.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was the oldest,\u201d continued his father, \u201cso I always had to \u2018set an example.\u2019 I always had one little brother or another tagging along or for whom I had to be responsible. I felt like I could never do anything I<\/em> wanted to do. I would have given anything –anything – <\/em>to just once<\/em><\/strong> do something without having to always be the responsible older brother!\u201d Adam sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. \u201cAnd any time I did<\/em> get the chance to do what I wanted, I ended up getting into trouble for it because Pa felt it was something I shouldn\u2019t have been doing in the first place. Unfortunately, he was usually right.\u201d Adam smiled to himself and shook his head as he recalled those difficult teenage adolescent <\/strong>years.<\/p>\n

He peered over at Patrick, who was studying him quietly. When he caught Pat\u2019s eye, the boy blushed and looked down uneasily. \u201cYou too, hm?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat shrugged, embarrassed. \u201cYeah\u2026 sometimes,\u201d he admitted, gruffly, picking at the stitching on his father\u2019s quilt.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I felt that way for most of my life, until you came along. Then, for the first time, I had a son of my own that I had to raise and be responsible for. Suddenly I was in the position of understanding exactly<\/em><\/strong> how my father felt, and, brother, was it an eye-opener. I realized that he never enjoyed having to punish me, any more than I enjoy having to discipline you. And that when he did come down hard on me, it was because he loved me, and that it was for my own good \u2026God, how I hated<\/em> that phrase when I was your age!\u201d Adam chuckled, shaking his head in rueful amusement.<\/p>\n

Pat nodded, and looked up, his expression serious. \u201cYeah, me too,\u201d he intoned sincerely.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Pat, all I can say is that someday you\u2019ll<\/em> have a child of your own and you\u2019ll have to go through the same feelings and worries. Then\u2026 you\u2019ll understand.\u201d Adam picked up the sandwich again and took another bite.<\/p>\n

For a few moments, they lay together in silence. Then, Pat sighed and took the plunge. \u201cLook, I been meanin\u2019 to tell you. I\u2019m really sorry about you and Mrs. Carter.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam nearly choked. He glanced over his son, wide-eyed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know how ya feel, sort of,\u201d Pat continued quietly, picking at a new section of stitching in his father\u2019s quilt.<\/p>\n

Adam glanced at him and made the connection. He was getting better at this. Keeping up with Patrick\u2019s train of thought is a little like juggling\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou and Wendy said your goodbyes?\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy nodded, sadly. \u201cI\u2019m really gonna miss her,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d sighed Adam, setting the half-sandwich back on the tray. He\u2019d lost what little appetite he had. \u201cPatrick\u2026how did you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat didn\u2019t look up. \u201cOne of the days I was playin\u2019 hooky, I needed some time to think. So, I went up to the lake.\u201d He slowly peeked up at his father, who reddened and dropped his own eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh. I see,\u201d said Adam, uncomfortably. \u201cPat, I\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u201cDad,\u201d said Pat, raising a hand to forestall him, \u201cdon\u2019t worry about it. It\u2019s none o\u2019 my business. I just had a little trouble dealin\u2019 with it that day\u2026 I\u2019m okay about it now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam cast his memory back and remembered the terrible argument they\u2019d had downstairs that evening, and the slap he\u2019d delivered and felt badly. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Pat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor not bein\u2019 the \u2026 \u2018Perfect Father\u2019?\u201d smiled Pat ruefully.<\/p>\n

Adam looked at his son. \u201cIs that what you thought?\u201d he asked, surprised. The last few weeks he\u2019d never felt less like a \u2018perfect father\u2019!<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, for a long time,\u201d nodded Pat, pursing his lips as he pondered how to explain his feelings. Finally, he shrugged helplessly and gazed into his father’s attentive eyes. \u201cI put ya on this pedestal, like some statue with a metal thing under it proclaimin\u2019 \u2018Here Stands Patrick\u2019s Perfect Father.\u2019 \u00a0I forgot that you was\u2026I dunno\u2026human, I guess.\u201d The boy blushed a bit and bit his lip, gazing down at the nine-block pattern of the quilt. Then he shook his head and shrugged, trying a small smile. \u201cIt scared me. I had to change my mind about ya\u2026again<\/em>.\u201d He peered up at his father\u2026 and tried not to chuckle at the odd persona his father exhibited while mottled with measles rash.<\/p>\n

Adam laced his fingers behind his head and glanced at him. \u201cAnd now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow\u2026 well, now I guess I realize that you can love somebody who ain\u2019t perfect,\u201d said Pat softly, thinking of his mother. He managed a weak, self-deprecating grin. \u201cAfter all, you love me<\/em>, don\u2019t ya?\u201d\u00a0 He looked away, not really wanting to see what his father\u2019s answer to that<\/em><\/strong> might really be.<\/p>\n

\u201cVery much,\u201d said Adam gently.<\/p>\n

Pat looked up, then, and was both grateful and disconcerted to see the very tender smile on his father\u2019s face that reached all the way to his dark hazel eyes.\u00a0 Flushing, feeling so unsure, he began fiddling again with the stitching of the quilt.<\/p>\n

Seeing he hadn\u2019t convinced the boy he was forgiven, Adam sat up.\u00a0 He carefully set his tray on the seat of the nearby easy chair and resettled himself. \u201cHey, you. C\u2019mere.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat looked up, and saw his father reaching out an arm, and swallowing hard he scooted himself closer and gave in to being hugged. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on his father\u2019s chest for a moment, listening to the strong heartbeat, thanking God it still was <\/em>beating.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was really scared, y\u2019know,\u201d he choked out, trying to control his very strong emotions. \u201cThere was times\u2026 times when I didn\u2019t think you was gonna make it.\u201d He was a little embarrassed to be able to hear the unshed tears in his own tremulous voice. He wanted so much to just bury himself in his father\u2019s arms like a terrified six-year-old,\u00a0giving in to the emotions that churned in him.\u00a0 Fear, relief, shame, guilt\u2026 and love.<\/p>\n

Adam silently hugged him close, then stroked his son\u2019s shoulder and arm. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I scared you. And I\u2019m sorry you didn\u2019t feel like you could come to me and tell me how you felt about wanting to talk to Corrigan.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat winced at the memory of that horrible choice and the domino effect of misery it had caused.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, geez, Dad, don\u2019t remind me\u201d groaned Pat in dismay, pushing away. \u201cThat was a big<\/em><\/strong> mistake\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it didn\u2019t seem like one at the time, did it?\u201d asked Adam with gentle understanding.<\/p>\n

A little disconcerted, Pat glanced at him, touched by the understanding he saw there.\u00a0 He shook his head, swallowing hard.\u00a0 \u201cNo,\u201d answered Pat, uncomfortably. \u201cI guess I got a lot to learn.\u201d He lay gingerly on his back, fidgeting a little to find a comfortable position. He blinked hard and struggled to steady his trembling lips, deeply annoyed that his feelings were so close to the surface.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re fourteen.\u00a0 Of course you have a lot to learn,\u201d said Adam, his voice gentle and understanding. \u201cBut you weren\u2019t the only one, son.\u201d<\/p>\n

Perplexed, the boy studied him.<\/p>\n

Sadly, Adam used his free arm to raise his hand in a helpless, humble gesture of acceptance.\u00a0 \u201cI should have listened, Pat.\u00a0 I should have listened to you when you were trying to tell me how you felt.\u00a0 About school.\u00a0 About Corrigan.\u00a0 About your own worries and fears.\u00a0 And I\u2019m sorry. I was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat considered him seriously, then simply nodded, his mouth firming up once more. He said nothing, but melted quietly against his dad, closing his eyes wearily in relief.<\/p>\n

Adam gazed at this boy\u2026 this young man trying so hard to grow, to become everything his potential was demanding he could be, right here in front of his eyes.\u00a0 He was humbled; and he thought of his own father, confronted by this reality not once but three times and smiled to himself in gentle, loving understanding.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor what it\u2019s worth,\u201d Adam said softly, tousling his son\u2019s hair then dropping a gentle kiss on the dark head, \u201cI think you\u2019ve come a very long way in the last couple of weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Saturday was a momentous day in the Cartwright household: Adam was finally allowed out of bed. He was a little shaky but made it downstairs under his own power.\u00a0 He closed his eyes and expanded his lungs fully, pulling in the familiar smells of leather and tobacco, Hop Sing\u2019s beeswax furniture polish, something amazing cooking in the kitchen, and the smell of freshly cut wood in the wood box. As he settled into the blue velvet chair, he felt so darned grateful to be free of the four walls of his bedroom!\u00a0 He might still be a little too weak to get out of the house, but just being able to walk around downstairs lifted his spirits tremendously.<\/p>\n

He and his father sat in the living room talking in front of a crackling fire enjoying the peace and quiet of the March afternoon, until sudden crashes and yelling from outside startled them both.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat in the world\u2026?\u201d bellowed Ben, scowling as he got to his feet and headed hastily toward the door. Adam rose a little more slowly, still a little lightheaded, and found he was grateful for it as the front door burst open. Patrick pelted into the room as if the devils in hell were chasing him, almost knocking his grandfather sprawling.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome back here, you miserable little varmint! I\u2019m gonna clobber you! Patrick! Patrick!!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss cannoned into the room followed more slowly by Joe, having to hang onto the walls, nearly out of breath from roaring with laughter. Pat nimbly jumped around the settee, keeping out of his uncle\u2019s reach.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, wait just a minute\u2014” began Ben sternly, turning this way and that as his son and grandson darted back and forth around him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ornery little whelp, I\u2019ll have your hide for bootlaces!\u201d roared Hoss trying desperately to grab around his father for the boy, who quickly sidestepped each attempt.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Uncle Hoss, you know I was just kiddin\u2019!\u201d protested Pat, barely able to keep a straight face.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, me, too, young feller!\u201d growled Hoss, an evil glint in his blue eyes. \u201cI\u2019m just kiddin\u2019 that I\u2019m gonna let you live!\u201d <\/em><\/strong>He made a desperate grab, but Pat evaded him again, eyes wary and dancing on the balls of his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust what exactly is going on here?\u201d demanded Adam, hands on his hips.<\/p>\n

Hoss made a fast lunge around the side of the sofa table and Pat just barely skidded out of his reach into the office area, chased by his uncle\u2026 and Ben and Adam were finally able to see just what happened.<\/p>\n

The seat of Hoss\u2019 pants were ripped out completely and his winter-weight red long johns hung out for all the world to see.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s eyes bugged out of his head. Adam just closed his. Joe was totally useless at this point, laughing hysterically.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what – \u00a0what\u2026 What did he do?\u201d<\/em><\/strong> demanded Ben, bewildered.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat\u2026.. HOO!!\u201d howled Joe, \u201c\u2026 Pat brushed\u2026.HAHA!!\u2026 brushed glue on Hoss\u2019 saddle!\u00a0 When he \u2026 HAAAAHOOOO!!! \u2026 tried to dismount\u2026..\u201d and he managed a pretty fair approximation of the sound of violently ripping fabric.<\/p>\n

Ben struggled to keep a straight face and had to turn away, covering his mouth with his hand.<\/p>\n

Adam didn\u2019t even bother to try.<\/p>\n

Hoss zigged when Pat thought he was zagging and suddenly the boy found himself tight in his uncle\u2019s hands. \u201cGotcha, you little rip!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle rip \u2026 BIG<\/em> rip!!\u201d howled Joe, weeping with laughter as he draped himself over the edge of the settee. Furiously, Hoss tucked the boy under his arm and marched over to the other end of the sofa.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, have I got you permission to give this young\u2019un what he\u2019s got comin\u2019?\u201d demanded his younger brother in fury, sitting down on the arm of the settee and sprawling the lanky fourteen-year-old unceremoniously across his lap, his right arm poised to wallop.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad! Help!\u201d protested Pat, desperately wriggling to free himself, but Uncle Hoss had his left arm tightly around his waist and he wasn\u2019t going anywhere.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Patrick,\u201d chuckled Adam, trying to compose himself, \u201cyou\u2019ve got to learn to face the consequences of your actions. Besides\u2026I\u2019m still so weak from my illness\u2026\u201d Adam feigned a swoon, making Joe and Ben laugh even harder.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Dad!\u201d<\/em> wailed Pat, really worried now, looking in frightened appeal to his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh\u2026 excuse me?\u201d came a small, tentative voice. All five heads turned at once toward the door.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth Masterson stood there, her eyes wide at the scene before her.<\/p>\n

Pat took advantage of the pause in the drama to dart out of his uncle\u2019s suddenly loosened grasp and skirt himself around the furniture to greet his teacher.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfternoon, Miss Masterson!\u201d he panted, glancing warily back at his uncle, who was desperately pointing his hind end away from the young lady and blushing furiously.<\/p>\n

Ben was having distinct trouble keeping a straight face now as Hoss backed slowly toward the stairs, all the while his face frozen in a panicked, forced smile. Joe struggled manfully to control his laughter and failed abysmally.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfternoon, Miz Elizabeth,\u201d stuttered Hoss, in acute embarrassment, carefully stepping backwards up the stairs. \u201cGood to see you, ma\u2019am\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Once at the top of the landing, he fled.<\/p>\n

Patrick closed his eyes and wheezed in relief.<\/p>\n

\u201cPatrick, this is not finished,\u201d came his father\u2019s stern voice.<\/p>\n

Pat opened his eyes nervously, then sighed, nodding. \u201cNo, sir,\u201d he said glumly, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking toward the hearth. He smiled to himself; well, it was fun while it lasted!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, Liz,\u201d grinned Joe, wiping his eyes and walking over to her. \u201cDid you need to see me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, actually I\u2019m here to see Pat,\u201d she said with a smile, arching an eyebrow at the youngster.<\/p>\n

He turned in surprise. \u201cMe?\u201d He looked between his teacher and father with worry.<\/p>\n

She nodded. \u201cMay we go outside and talk?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat looked at his father again in surprise. Adam shrugged and gestured toward the door.<\/p>\n

Nervously, Pat walked back to her and held the door open for her as she stepped through, grabbed his own jacket and followed.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, with school starting again, I wanted to be sure you and I had an understanding,\u201d she said firmly, her back straight, eyes direct.\u00a0 \u201cI want it understood that there is one authority in that schoolroom, and it is not<\/em><\/strong> you. Am I clear?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat scuffed the toe of his boot against the porch in embarrassment. \u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere will be no more practical jokes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded glumly.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay it, Patrick.\u201d<\/p>\n

He swallowed hard and looked into the face of a woman who would tolerate no further shenanigans from him.\u00a0 \u201cNo, ma\u2019am. No more practical jokes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou will<\/em><\/strong> put your best efforts into your schoolwork.\u201d She raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere will absolutely be no further unexcused absences.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, ma\u2019am,\u201d he said.\u00a0 He remembered the sheriff\u2019s visit and shifted uneasily. \u201cMr. MacDonald \u2026 uh, he knows about that, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded, eyeing him.<\/p>\n

Pat sighed, shoulders sagging. \u201cI guess I\u2019m in for it with him, again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s going to be by Monday morning to talk to you about it, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat swallowed hard and hung his head. Oh, Jaysus\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGood.\u201d She tipped her head to one side and her expression softened slightly.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019ve been doing excellent work, you know,\u201d she said quietly.\u00a0 \u201cOn that score, you should be very proud of yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

He managed a small smile at that, and pulled in a deep breath, nodding.<\/p>\n

They walked together back toward the front door and Joe met them there. \u201cAll through?\u201d he grinned.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think we understand each other,\u201d smiled Liz at her young student.<\/p>\n

Pat glumly nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, your uncle wants to talk to you,\u201d said Joe, his eyes wide as he nodded toward the house. Pat\u2019s own eyes widened a bit, and he turned to take off toward the barn, but Joe snatched a hand full of jacket collar and turned him around, marching him back toward the house.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Uncle Joe\u2014” protested Pat, a slight whine in his voice along with a charmingly pleading expression.\u00a0 But he was trying to con someone who\u2019d written the instruction book for this kind of manipulation.<\/p>\n

\u201cInside,\u201d intoned Joe, giving his nephew a firm push.<\/p>\n

Pat\u2019s eyes implored; Joe crossed his arms, shook his head and pointed inexorably toward the front door.<\/p>\n

Patrick\u2019s shoulders slumped and he walked to the door, his head down, and slowly pushing it open, peeked in. In resignation, he entered and carefully shut the door behind him.<\/p>\n

Chuckling, both Liz and Joe walked toward her buggy. \u201cWill I be seeing you tomorrow after church?\u201d she smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow about a spring picnic?\u201d he grinned. \u201cI know this great spot up at the lake with a little shack and a place for a cozy fire\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

Monday morning arrived faster than Patrick had hoped it would. Of course, spending the rest of the weekend stuck in the barn cleaning and <\/strong>polishing every saddle the Ponderosa owned while under the stern and watchful eye of his Uncle Hoss might have had something to do with it.\u00a0 But through it all, Patrick was able to glance over at his uncle occasionally and grin at the memory of the naughtiness that prompted this <\/em>little piece of poetic justice! Yeah, in this one instance, it had<\/strong> been worth it!<\/em><\/p>\n

But he was worried about returning to school. He was in trouble with his best friend – again!<\/em><\/strong> \u00a0The school board president wanted to talk to him about his elaborate hooky-playing. \u00a0And his ears still burned from the conversation with his teacher on Saturday.<\/p>\n

His family eyed him with sympathy, but also with barely concealed grins as he moped his way through breakfast, dragged his heels packing his saddlebags and finally mounted Black Jack to meet his Waterloo.<\/p>\n

= = = = =<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, I\u2019m gonna be late gettin\u2019 home for the rest of the week,\u201d sighed Patrick as he perched on his father\u2019s bed.<\/p>\n

Adam had gone out into the yard and done some work with the horses that morning, made it through until lunch time, then wearily gave in to a nap after lunch. It annoyed him to no end that he had to allow his body time to recover from his illness. Still, he was glad he was here for Patrick now. He sat in the easy chair by his window, his feet propped up on his desk chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou and Mike both?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d sighed the boy, wincing as he rubbed his right upper arm. \u201cHe don\u2019t have to write as many as me, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shook his head in amusement. Punishment sentences!<\/em> \u201cHonesty is the best policy,\u201d written 200 times on the blackboard every day for a week. Adam grinned to himself. He was willing to bet Patrick would have preferred a caning. He would have at that age. Old Mac had really used creativity for that one\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHow about you and Mike. Did you talk it out? Or is that bruise on your jaw all Mike was willing to \u2018say\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat sighed and gingerly fingered the purplish mark at the edge of his mouth. He grinned ruefully at his dad. \u201cYeah, his conversation was pretty blunt and to the point.\u201d He sighed and swung his long legs up on his father\u2019s bed.<\/p>\n

Adam eyed them balefully. \u201cYou mind getting your feet off my bed?\u201d asked Adam dryly.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d Pat said sheepishly, swinging his boots back to the floor.<\/p>\n

Adam chuckled.\u00a0 \u201cSo\u2026what\u2019s the rest? Did you make up with each other?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pat nodded. \u201cYeah. I tried to tell Old Mac it was all my fault, but I don\u2019t think I got very far with him. Except maybe to get Mike\u2019s sentence reduced. Mike yelled at me all through recess, then finally, around time to go home, we really talked.\u201d He squirmed a little as he remembered the tongue-lashing his friend gave him. \u201cI guess I\u2019m kinda on probation with him like everybody else. But I think it\u2019ll be okay. At least I\u2019m gonna try hard to make it okay. I got a lotta makin\u2019 up to do.\u201d He hooked his boots in the frame of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, head down.<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like you\u2019re getting your debts paid off, sonny boy,\u201d said his father quietly, getting to his feet and stretching. \u201cGive it some time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. I\u2019ll have to be good for awhile, then throw everybody off a little later,\u201d his son grinned devilishly. Adam reached over to good-naturedly cuff his ear and Pat ducked easily with a grin. \u201cYou feelin\u2019 better?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m sick and tired of being sick and tired, that\u2019s for sure,\u201d sighed Adam, sitting down on the bed beside his son and pulling on his boots. \u201cBut yeah, I think I\u2019m finally feeling better.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou miss\u2026 her?\u201d asked Pat softly, keeping his head down.<\/p>\n

His father didn\u2019t make believe he didn\u2019t understand.\u00a0 Adam leaned forward and rested his own elbows on his knees, somewhat matching Pat\u2019s position and sighed. \u201cYeah. I do. I don\u2019t know, Pat\u2026I had really hoped there was something possible for us. I\u2019m beginning to think it isn\u2019t meant to be for me to be married.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick glanced at his father. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Dad. I didn\u2019t mean to upset you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam drew in a deep breath and managed a smile. \u201cDon\u2019t worry about it. How about you? Miss Wendy today?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he sighed. \u201cLooking at her empty seat\u2026 well, it kind of hurt. I found myself working really hard just to keep my mind off her. Then, when Cassie and I – \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cCassie? Cassie Yates?\u201d asked Adam, surprised.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, we had lunch together,\u201d said Patrick nonchalantly, making Adam stifle a grin. \u201cWell, we talked about it, and she was really nice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam said nothing but draped an arm around his son\u2019s shoulders. His youthful heart must be more resilient than I thought, <\/em>Adam mused. He\u2019s recovered from one and on to the next already!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHey, you two!\u201d Joe poked his head around the door. \u201cIf you don\u2019t come on down Pa\u2019s gonna have kittens! He already called you both to dinner twice!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, we\u2019re coming,\u201d nodded Adam, hauling his young son to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s about time you two got down here!\u201d grumped Ben, as he rubbed his growling stomach, stalking to the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry we\u2019re late, Pa,\u201d said Adam with a surreptitious grin and a poke in the ribs to his son.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Sorry, Pa,\u2019\u201d grunted Ben irritably. \u201cFor twenty-five years, supper has always been at the same time in this household! I don\u2019t know why one or the other of you boys always tries to turn it into a moveable feast!\u201d He sat down and angrily snapped out his napkin, spreading it on his lap with a flourish. The four younger family members looked at each other in amusement but knew better than to either giggle or comment.<\/p>\n

The others sat down and grace was said. Patrick reached for his milk and had a sip as Hop Sing bustled into the room, first bringing a basket of biscuits, then returning with a big tureen filled to the brim with a rich, aromatic stew.<\/p>\n

Hoss\u2019 eyes widened and a wondrous smile lit up his round face, as he cast his memory back to a feisty Irish lass who could wield a skillet as deadly as his rifle. \u201cIs that what I think it is, Hop Sing?\u201d<\/p>\n

The cook, beaming.\u00a0 \u201cMulligan Stew!\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe and Adam glanced at each other, questioningly. But Ben smiled a little and looked at his grandson, whose face was wreathed with smiles.<\/p>\n

\u201cMulligan?\u201d Pat breathed, leaning toward the tureen set almost in front of him and pulling in a huge sniff. \u00a0He closed his eyes in bliss, then grinned excitedly at the houseman.\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cReal<\/em> Mulligan?!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust like Missy Annie teach Hop Sing,\u201d1<\/sup><\/strong> nodded the cook firmly.\u00a0 He smiled at the boy.\u00a0 \u201cShow honor to Missa Patlic otha family.\u201d\u00a0 He patted the boy on the shoulder, winked and headed back into the kitchen for other dishes.<\/p>\n

Adam leaned back in his chair and smiled indulgently as Pat happily told the family about the Mulligan Stew his mother and the ladies of Hell\u2019s Kitchen used to make, and other Irish dishes like colcannon and champ, potato bread and boxty.<\/p>\n

Ben, too, smiled to see Pat sharing about his life before Nevada more than he\u2019d done previously, as though finally tearing down the wall of \u201cbefore\u201d and \u201cafter.\u201d It allowed the boy to simply be himself, complete and whole.<\/p>\n

As laughter and chatter echoed at the dining table, Adam caught Hop Sing\u2019s eye, who smiled, knowingly, at him from the kitchen doorway.\u00a0 The older man smiled and nodded at him in approval then disappeared back into his domain while the Cartwrights wove a new, bright green Irish thread into their already rich family tapestry.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a01<\/sup> <\/em><\/strong>from “The Saga of Annie O’Toole,” Season One, Episode 7, written by Thomas Thompson<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

THE END<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

AUTHOR’S NOTES<\/strong><\/p>\n

I grew up with my own three “Adam, Hoss and Joe” big brothers, and the eldest, Jim, loved folk music.\u00a0 One of the groups that I learned to sing along to before I could talk (honestly!) were the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. On their album Live From Carnegie Hall, Liam Clancy sang this poignant and haunting song of Irish rebellion about an incident that occured during the Border Campaign in the 1950s.\u00a0 Though it’s definitely not of the same era as our Cartwrights and the Orange riots that kills Siobhan Riordan nor the period following the Great Famine that claimed the lives of Paddy Riordan and his sons, the lyrics below capture exactly the tone I sought when writing this story.\u00a0 \u00a0There is a wonderful modern rendition of this online, performed by the wonderful Irish singer Piaras \u00d3 Lorc\u00e1in.\u00a0 You may find it here:\u00a0 Bing Videos<\/a><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n
\n
\n
THE PATRIOT GAME<\/strong><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/header>\n<\/div>\n

Dominic Behan, 1958<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Come all you young rebels and list while I sing
\nFor the love of one’s country is a terrible thing.
\nIt banishes fear with the speed of a flame
\nAnd it makes us all part of the patriot game.<\/em><\/p>\n

My name is O’Hanlon and I’ve just gone sixteen.
\nMy home is in Monaghan where I was weaned.
\nI’ve learned all my life cruel England’s to blame
\nAnd so I’m a part of the patriot game.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em>It’s barely two years since I wandered away
\nWith the local battalion of the bold IRA
\nFor they’d read of our heroes and I wanted the same
\nTo play out my part in the patriot game.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em>This island of ours has for long been half-free.
\nSix counties are under John Bull’s tyranny.
\nSo, I gave up my boyhood to drill and to train
\nAnd play my own part in the patriot game.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em>And now as I lie here, my body all holes
\nI think of those traitors who bargained in souls.
\nI wish that my rifle had given the same
\nTo those Quislings who sold out the patriot game.<\/em><\/p>\n

~-oo0oo-~<\/p>\n

This story is for distribution, at no charge, to lovers of the characters of the Cartwrights of \u201cBonanza\u201d, and is in no way intended to infringe on the copyright of \u2018Bonanza\u2019.<\/p>\n

    \n
  • Original release date: November, 1997<\/li>\n
  • Edited, re-release date: April \u2013 September 2026, first in serialization on the Bonanza Brand Forum, the Virginia City Literary Society\/WIPs.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    SUMMARY: This is the second of my “Pat Cartwright” stories, building an AU involving the Cartwrights of the Ponderosa. The Cartwrights become swept up in adolescent emotions, adult romance, an epidemic and a spot of Irish rebellion.
    \nRATING: T\/PG for adult themes
    \nWORD COUNT: 132,367<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":12518,"featured_media":14328,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","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_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_members_access_role":[],"_members_access_error":""},"categories":[7,23,1008,1010,1012],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-69963","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-a-u","category-drama","category-family","category-hop-sing","category-roy-coffee","wpcat-7-id","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-1008-id","wpcat-1010-id","wpcat-1012-id"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/05\/AC.jpg?fit=274%2C358&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69963","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\/12518"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=69963"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69963\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":69965,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69963\/revisions\/69965"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/14328"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=69963"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=69963"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=69963"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}

The barn walls rang with a resounding\u00a0clang!<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0as Adam slammed his tools down on the workbench in a fit of petulant temper. As he\u2019d feared, examining the pump proved to be disappointing. He\u2019d have to replace the damned thing after all. There was just too much ice damage. That knowledge was even more irksome when he recalled that\u00a0he<\/em>\u00a0had been the one who was supposed to have pulled the stupid thing from the reservoir. With everything going on with Pat last fall he\u2019d simply forgotten.\u00a0[1]<\/a><\/p>\n