{"id":7427,"date":"2010-11-12T10:57:55","date_gmt":"2010-11-12T15:57:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=7427"},"modified":"2025-02-27T12:23:38","modified_gmt":"2025-02-27T17:23:38","slug":"devotion","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=7427","title":{"rendered":"Devotion (by southplains)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary:<\/strong> Did Amy Bishop know of Joe’s love affair with Julia Bulette? If she did, what did she think of it? How did she come to terms with it once she herself was in a relationship with him?\u00a0 Written in response to the ‘Missing Scenes’ challenge here on BB, and inspired by a question posed on another site.<\/p>\n

Key words: Truckee Strip, Julia Bulette, love, romance, prostitute, WHI, WHN, WHB, ESJ, prequel<\/p>\n

Rated: K+ WC 7900<\/p>\n

Devotion<\/strong><\/p>\n

When she had awakened this morning, the world had shifted.<\/p>\n

How could it not? For yesterday, she had met Little Joe Cartwright.<\/p>\n

Oh, she had known who he was for years, and it wasn\u2019t the first time she\u2019d laid eyes on him, but it was<\/em> the first time she\u2019d ever spoken to him. It was not, however, the first time she had realized she loved him.<\/p>\n

The first time Amy knew she loved him, she had been all of eight years old.<\/p>\n

Even then, their families had their differences; the Bishops and the Cartwrights always made a point of avoiding each other. Naturally,\u00a0their paths occasionally crossed anyway, such as what happened on the warm spring day when both families ended up attending the same church picnic.<\/p>\n

Amy\u2019s eyes followed Joe Cartwright everywhere that warm afternoon. She watched the way he ran in and out of the pines as he played tag with the other boys. They bounded through patches of shadow and sunlight like deer. She saw the way he wasn\u2019t afraid of anything at all, how his courage pressed the boundaries of good sense at times, making his older brothers shout warnings after him.<\/p>\n

She watched how he laughed. How he smiled, quickly and often, with a blinding flash of enthusiastic joy.<\/p>\n

He held her spellbound. She was immediately aware that there was something different about him, a way of making people stop and stare and smile back at him. Whatever that something was, it had her thoroughly ensnared that first time she saw him. The very mountainsides were reflected in his eyes in a hundred shades of green; it was like looking into a limitless pine forest. And that brilliant flashing grin . . . it seemed to light up everything around him, and women would break off conversation to watch him run by.<\/p>\n

\u201cSuch a beautiful child,\u201d they\u2019d murmur, and Amy knew it to be true. Joe Cartwright was a thing of beauty.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, he was also bad. All the Cartwrights were. Pa said so. And her pa never lied. They were bad mainly because they wanted land that rightly belonged to the Bishops, land that was part of the Concho. She was never, under any circumstances, to have anything to do with the Cartwright boys.<\/p>\n

So when Little Joe turned that astounding smile fully on her that day at the church picnic, she was horrified to find that her heart didn\u2019t care one bit if he was bad or not, or what his last name was. Her heart, her stupid, thoughtless heart, flooded with warmth and beat much too fast, and she knew in that instant she was lost. She wanted nothing so much as to go to his side and stay there, with her small hand tucked into his. Even if he was a Cartwright.<\/p>\n

It was a good thing their families didn\u2019t much travel in the same circles, or her traitorous heart would no doubt have conspired to make her a very disloyal daughter. It was also fortunate that she was schooled at home, while Joe and Hoss, so she heard, rode into Virginia City a couple of days a week during the warmer months to receive tutelage from Miss Abigail Jones in her front sitting room, along with a fair-sized group of area youngsters.<\/p>\n

And it was a very,\u00a0very<\/em> good thing she didn\u2019t see Joe again after that afternoon during the picnic. When he was out of sight, it was easier to remember that she was a Bishop, and that she must abide by Pa\u2019s rules. It was easier to remember that the Cartwrights were a high and mighty lot who were so busy grabbing up land that they didn\u2019t care who they ran over.<\/p>\n

She told herself that, over and over, while she spent the next several months trying\u00a0to put the boy with the pines in his eyes out of her mind.<\/p>\n

By the time she was nine, the friction between the Cartwrights and the Bishops had worsened, moving from stiffly ignoring each other to physical confrontations. As always, the bad feelings were borne of that small strip of land near the Truckee that the Cartwrights wanted, but which really belonged to her Pa. Finally, the year she turned ten, violence erupted over that land. Men from the Concho died. So, she heard, did men from the Ponderosa.<\/p>\n

The courts stepped in at that point. A judge ruled, as judges so often do, on the side of money. The judge said the land belonged to the Cartwrights. Her pa didn\u2019t accept the decision, but he hated killing as much as anyone; to avoid more of it and to keep the peace, he stopped short of harvesting timber or anything else from the land in question. Still, he considered it his and would always do so. After the court ruling, he took even greater care that his family avoid any functions where the Cartwrights were expected to show up. \u201cLying down with dogs will get you nothing but fleas,\u201d he\u2019d say.<\/p>\n

Little Joe\u2019s entrancing smile became a vague memory. He was just part of a family who had done the Bishops wrong and that she was never to speak to. Nothing more.<\/p>\n

Life went on, and while it was a quiet life for Amy, it was also a happy and content one.\u00a0She didn’t have many social peers, but she had her pa, and her beloved books. Her favorite place in the world was the bend in the creek where the grass grew thick on the banks and the willows bent slender waists to peer into the water. She spent hours there dreaming and reading, and playing with the frogs that made their home in the rushes.<\/p>\n

During her eleventh year, she was playing at the creek one day, and found a frog missing a front leg. It didn\u2019t seem to slow him down much. In fact it didn\u2019t even seem to really bother him, but she couldn\u2019t help but feel sorry for the creature.<\/p>\n

She promptly named him \u2018Prince\u2019 and carried him home, and made him a bed in the kitchen from one of Pa\u2019s old cigar boxes.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe can\u2019t stay here, you know,\u201d Pa said. \u201cHe\u2019ll be unhappy. He\u2019ll pine for his home on the creek.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it\u2019s warm and dry and more comfortable here,\u201d she pointed out. \u201cAnd he\u2019s a poor invalid.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa smiled and stroked the frog with a finger. \u201cI admit he\u2019s no longer the frog he once was. But he lost that leg a good while back; see how it\u2019s completely healed over? He\u2019s a survivor. He knows how to keep trudging along, even if there was likely a time when he didn\u2019t much feel like it.\u201d He looked up at her. \u201cHis world is a different one from ours. He won\u2019t be happy here anymore than you\u2019d be happy living in that creek. Though, truth be told, you do spend a goodly amount of time in it.\u201d He winked.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, Pa, I could help him\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa shook his head. \u201cNot all princes can be saved, you know. The best you can do for your Royal Highness there is to treat him gently, because a prince who\u2019s been injured is likely a bit skittish, since sometimes there\u2019s more hurt on the inside than what shows on the outside. Now carry him back home and wish him well, child. Let him stay with his own kind; they know better than we do how to make him happy. If you\u2019re lucky, you\u2019ll see him from time to time.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sighed, but did as Pa asked. Sure enough, there were afternoons when she lay sunning herself on the grassy bank when Prince would hop by in his funny, lurching way and give her what she swore was a froggy wink, and she knew she\u2019d done right by letting him go. And when the day came when she no longer caught sight of him, she still knew that Pa had been right; setting Prince free had been the right thing to do.
\nThe years passed, and as she got older, Amy didn\u2019t lose her love of whiling away the hours at the creek. She spent less and less time playing with frogs, however, and more time reading and dreaming. Those dreams often consisted of castles and balls and princes\u2014human ones, now\u2014and if those princes always had dancing green eyes and blinding smiles, she refused to give much importance to that coincidence.<\/p>\n

And then, during her sixteenth year, disaster struck.<\/p>\n

She was walking down Main Street in Virginia City when she ran almost headlong into the enemy, right there on the boardwalk in front of Burton\u2019s Millinery. Him. Little Joe Cartwright.<\/p>\n

He flashed that grin and tipped his hat. And just like that, her poor pathetic heart melted, just as if years hadn\u2019t gone by without her seeing his face. He may have said something like \u201cexcuse me,\u201d but she couldn\u2019t be sure with her heart thumping so loud. Oh! It was beyond irritating to find that her silly, deceitful heart was so foolish that it still held onto those same feelings it had burst with when she was only eight.<\/p>\n

Not that Joe even gave her much notice. He smiled and touched the brim of his hat out of what she suspected was pure reflex, but the fact that a pretty girl walked on both sides of him prevented him from doing more than giving Amy much more than a cursory glance. Either he had no idea who she was, or he did know and didn\u2019t care to acknowledge her. She wasn\u2019t sure which, but somehow neither option set well.<\/p>\n

She knew better than to do it; she knew she should simply continue on into the millinery the way she had intended and push him right back out of her mind. But she couldn\u2019t help herself\u2014she turned and stood still, right there on the boardwalk, and watched him go, listening to the sound of his laughter as he joked with the ladies. From beneath the protection of her bonnet brim, she took careful note of things she knew she shouldn\u2019t be studying. The way his curls showed too long beneath his hat and licked at the sun-faded collar of his shirt. The way sinewy muscle pushed at the fabric stretched across his back even as he held out an elbow for each of his lady friends to hold onto.<\/p>\n

The way his gunbelt rode narrow hips encased by trousers she knew were just this side of being indecent in their snug fit.<\/p>\n

Dear Lord. He\u2019d been beautiful as a young boy, but that same kind of beauty on a grown man was entirely unfair. Unlike her poor frog Prince with the missing leg, Joe Cartwright was absolutely perfect.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In order to control the stupid beating of her\u00a0contrary heart, she finally forced herself to turn away<\/p>\n

\u201cJust one wart, Lord,\u201d she grumbled as she shoved at the door to the millinery. \u201cWould it have hurt to have given him just one wart?\u201d Sighing, she tried to turn her attention to the new hats Mrs. Burton had on display, but the vision of Joe strolling down the sidewalk with two women refused to give way.<\/p>\n

Two <\/em>women, she silently fumed. It seemed the Cartwright avarice knew no bounds. Land, money, women\u2014they were greedy for all of it.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d heard the stories about that youngest Cartwright, of course. How women moved to him like bees to honey. Her friends gossiped about it often enough. She\u2019d heard other things, too, forbidden things that shocked her even as the thought of them sent a disturbing tingle up her spine. But she\u2019d told herself all these years that Joseph Cartwright\u2019s dissolute love life was of no importance to her. Why should it be? She hadn\u2019t laid eyes on him since that picnic all those years ago, and what she knew of the Cartwrights was all bad. She shouldn\u2019t be surprised to find out that Joe\u2019s personal life was debauched and wicked.<\/p>\n

She firmly reminded herself Joe Cartwright was the enemy. He was beneath her, and it was complete nonsense to let herself become so rattled by him.<\/p>\n

She actually managed to put him out of her mind after that, or so she told herself. It wasn\u2019t her fault his name was brought up at the Bishop supper table one night soon after; no, the fault was his<\/em>. His tendency toward womanizing had brought him to the attention of Jessup, their foreman\u2014and therefore to that of her pa.<\/p>\n

\u201cTalk around town is that Joe Cartwright\u2019s courtin\u2019 Lucy Cameron,\u201d Jessup said between bites of roast beef.<\/p>\n

Pa looked sideways at him. The Cartwright name wasn\u2019t considered appropriate mealtime conversation, and Jessup knew it. \u201cIsn\u2019t any of our concern what a Cartwright does,\u201d Pa said brusquely.<\/p>\n

Jessup wiped his mouth. \u201cI only brought it up because with the Cameron land lying on our northwest border, I thought Cartwright might try to sneak across here when he goes sparkin\u2019. Otherwise he\u2019ll have to ride around an extra ten miles.\u201d He eyed Pa. \u201cI thought you might want to know, seein\u2019 as you don\u2019t cotton to no Cartwrights sashaying across the Concho.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa nodded, seeming to consider. \u201cAll right. Keep an eye out for him, and if he\u2019s dumb enough to try it, run him off.\u201d He took a swig of milk. \u201cI doubt we need to worry, though. From what I know of Joe Cartwright, he\u2019ll most likely be courtin\u2019 someone else before the week is out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jessup snorted. \u201cYou\u2019re right there, Mr. Bishop. Uses women and tosses \u2018em to the side like yesterday\u2019s pig slop. It\u2019s a cryin\u2019 shame somebody don\u2019t do somethin\u2019\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not true! He isn\u2019t like that! He isn\u2019t like that at all!\u201d Her voice rang with so much vehemence that both Jessup and Pa gaped at her. She could have slapped my hand over her mouth for having blurted that out. Really, what did she care about Joe Cartwright\u2019s reputation?<\/p>\n

She shouldn\u2019t <\/em>have cared. Joe was<\/em> a womanizer. Didn\u2019t his actions constantly keep the town gossips\u2019 tongues wagging? Still, something inside her ached to hear him portrayed in that manner. She stood her ground.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not like that,\u201d she said again, her voice softer now.<\/p>\n

\u201cAmy, you don\u2019t even know the boy. You have no idea what he\u2019s like,\u201d Pa said. His eyes were troubled as they stared at her. \u201cHe\u2019s a wild boy. Gets into saloon brawls, plays poker . . .\u201d He shook his head. \u201cHe\u2019s a Cartwright. You don\u2019t know him,\u201d he said again, \u201cand that\u2019s as it should be.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you do, Pa? You know Joe Cartwright as something other than just the youngest member of a family you hate?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa\u2019s face reddened. \u201cWatch your tongue, daughter. I know enough,\u201d he said, his tone clipped and hard. \u201cNow, hush. I\u2019ll hear no more talk about Joe or any other Cartwright at my table. How any man does or does not treat women isn\u2019t suitable conversation for your ears, anyway.\u201d He shot Jessup a hard look, which Jessup was smart enough to take as warning not to bring up such a subject in the future.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, I don\u2019t think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s enough!\u201d Pa\u2019s voice didn\u2019t often get raised to her, and he flinched as much as she did at the sound of it. He made a visible effort to soften his tone. \u201cYou don\u2019t need to concern yourself with him. Even if he wasn\u2019t a Cartwright, which he is\u2014\u201d Pa shook his head. \u201cAs I said, he\u2019s wild. You mark my words\u2014that boy is going to be Ben Cartwright\u2019s comeuppance one day if he doesn\u2019t shorten the reins on him. What goes around comes around, and something tells me Ben\u2019s sins will come around on the heels of that youngster.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amy swallowed and nodded, and nothing more was said. And that might have been that, had Joe Cartwright not gone and made her pa\u2019s \u201cmark my words\u201d a true prophecy.<\/p>\n

This time, Jessup didn\u2019t need to make any comments over the supper table for her to find out. The talk was everywhere, as fast and furious as wildfire.<\/p>\n

It seemed that Little Joe had bucked hard against his pa\u2019s stern hand. Hard enough to shake Ben Cartwright, hard enough to test the very stability of the Cartwright family.<\/p>\n

\u201cTook up with that whore<\/em>,\u201d was the loudly whispered comment from Mrs. Ledbetter to Mrs. Dewbrey in Ledbetter\u2019s General Store as Amy stood looking at a bolt of blue gingham. \u201cCan you believe<\/em> it? It\u2019s not like he just had a wild night on the town\u2014he\u2019s actually moved in<\/em> with her. Left home and moved into Julia Bulette\u2019s rooms. I hear Ben Cartwright is fit to be tied. Wants him back home, of course, but the young buck won\u2019t have it. If you ask me, they should just tie him hand and foot and cart him back to the Ponderosa if that\u2019s what it takes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Dewbrey tsked. \u201cWell, it\u2019s not like Ben shouldn\u2019t have seen it coming, after all. That youngest son isn\u2019t like the two older boys. He\u2019s always been wild as a March hare. His pa should have taken him in hand long ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Ledbetter nodded. \u201cAmen to that, Georgina. Even if he had, though, it might not have made a difference. Blood will out, I always say. You know, Joseph\u2019s mother was\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

She broke off when Mrs. Dewbrey nudged her and glanced meaningfully toward Amy.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, dear, Amy, you must forgive me for prattling on so,\u201d Mrs. Ledbetter said. \u201cThis is certainly not suitable conversation for a young lady to be privy to. Can I help you with anything?\u201d she asked, but it was obvious that she hoped the answer would be no; she no doubt wanted Amy to leave so that she and Mrs. Ledbetter could continue with their gossip.<\/p>\n

Amy didn\u2019t care. She didn\u2019t want to hear any more. She had no reason to be bothered by what Joe Cartwright did, but somehow she was. She shook her head, mumbled her thanks to Mrs. Ledbetter, and fled.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t help that the stories didn\u2019t die down with time. It was the topic of conversation everywhere, even among the hands on the Concho. At one point she was unwillingly subjected to one of those conversations as she scattered feed to the chickens at the side of the barn. Three of the hands rode up and dismounted at the barn door, around the corner from where she stood. Situated as she was, her presence remained unknown to the hands. As they unsaddled their mounts, they had a ribald time joking and laughing about Joe Cartwright attending \u201ca special finishing school\u201d with the teacher being none other, of course, than Julia Bulette.<\/p>\n

Mortified at the crude words and the images they brought forth, Amy pressed herself against the barn wall, her face hot. She squeezed her eyes shut. She even clapped her hands over her ears, but she could still hear the men hooting loudly and speculating about the things Joe was learning at his new \u201cschool,\u201d and wondering if they might be able to attend when the \u201cteacher\u201d was done with him.<\/p>\n

Her own education was greatly advanced that day due to her unwilling eavesdropping, and she wished to God she\u2019d never heard any of it. Certainly the cowhands would never have said such things had they known she was within earshot, but the damage had been done, though she\u2019d never in her life tell anyone what she\u2019d overheard.<\/p>\n

The shock of the things the hands had laughed about was almost overwhelming\u2014but it was nothing compared to the chill that seized her heart every time she pictured Joe lying with Julia Bulette.<\/p>\n

Julia Bulette. Owner of The Palace, a saloon and gambling hall and place of ill repute so legendary that ladies averted their eyes whenever they rode or walked by.<\/p>\n

Julia Bulette. A prostitute.<\/p>\n

Despite telling herself it didn\u2019t matter, despondency grew dark and heavy upon Amy. It wasn\u2019t right that he was with someone like Miss Bulette. She would\u2026dirty him. Stain him so that he\u2019d never be the same again. Amy felt anger grow within her. Julia was an older, dissolute woman using a beautiful boy\u2014she stopped herself. Joe Cartwright was young, but he was no boy. He was a man who knew what he wanted.<\/p>\n

She began to drag about the house so wearily that her pa finally asked if she was feeling well.<\/p>\n

“I’m just tired, Pa.” She tried to turn her mind to other things. But her head was full of thoughts of the boy with the fast legs and blinding smile dissolving\u00a0into a debauched, corrupt ghost of himself, turning to more and more gambling and drink and loose women.<\/p>\n

Then, one day out of the blue, came the shocking news of Miss Bulette\u2019s murder. Gossip was full of not only the details of what had happened, but also how young Joe Cartwright was completely devastated. The talk was that he had loved Julia enough to ask her to be his wife shortly before she was killed.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe actually asked her to marry him!\u201d the gossips exclaimed in fascinated horror. \u201cCan you believe it? And to add insult to injury, he did it in public! The entire saloon was witness to it. The young fool . . . Can you imagine how Ben must feel? To drag that kind of dirt onto the Cartwright name . . . Oh, but Joseph is his father\u2019s son. Don\u2019t forget what Ben did all those years ago . . . It was inevitable, really. Young Cartwright . . .he\u2019s bad blood, that one . . . Blood will out, I always say . . . Blood will out . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

All Amy could think about was the fact that Joe had loved\u2014loved<\/em>\u2014Julia Bulette. He\u2019d wanted to marry<\/em> her. For some reason that was the most painful blow of all. Suddenly, when she thought of Joe\u2019s face\u2014and the image of it was clear in her mind despite her best efforts\u2014it seemed as far away and untouchable as the very moon. And in that instant, it seemed useless to lie to herself any longer. She realized now that deep down she had wanted, somehow, insanely and against all odds, to make Joe Cartwright her own.<\/p>\n

Only it didn\u2019t matter. She\u2019d been saved from her own ridiculous folly. For Joe Cartwright had wanted\u2014he still <\/em>wanted\u2014Julia Bulette. A worldly woman. A woman who knew how to make a man like Joe, a man whose blood ran hot, very happy.<\/p>\n

A woman as different from Amy as night was from day.<\/p>\n

She stayed away from town to avoid hearing more talk, but it went on anyway. From her friends, from the neighbors, from the ranch hands\u2014none of whom had any reason to think the gossip would affect her in any way.<\/p>\n

\u201c . . . they say Little Joe won\u2019t leave the house . . .whole family\u2019s up in arms . . . worried sick . . . Ben\u2019s beside himself. Doc Martin says . . . Well, what did they think?\u00a0\u00a0 . . . should have stopped it before it got that far. Bad blood . . .blood will out. Doctor . . . worried over his state of mind. . . . medicine . . . melancholy . . .\u00a0\u00a0 Woman turned him upside down. Blood will out . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBlood will out.\u201d The sour\u00a0phrase kept popping up, condemning and reproachful. It had to do with Joe\u2019s mother, she knew, a woman who had died around the same time as her own. Amy knew nothing about her, but she still seemed to inspire plenty of gossip, just as her son did. She didn\u2019t dare ask anyone more details about Marie, though.<\/p>\n

For weeks the talk continued. A raging, ill-fated love affair between the youngest son of the most powerful and wealthy family in the Nevada Territory and the most infamous prostitute in Virginia City was a story too juicy to let go.<\/p>\n

Amy took to her bed, telling her worried pa that she thought she was coming down with something after all. He pampered her as he usually did when she was sick, even riding into Virginia City for no other reason than to borrow books from Miss Jones for her to read. She lay propped up on pillows with the books open on her lap; she stared at the pages but didn\u2019t see the words. She was too busy wondering how she\u2019d been foolish enough to waste all the years of her childhood pining over a boy she didn\u2019t even know, and who had been lost to her from the very beginning. If only she\u2019d listened to her pa . . . The Cartwrights were forbidden ground. Joe was forbidden. Oh, how she wished she had listened.<\/p>\n

In her mind\u2019s eye she could see him as he was now, across the Truckee, around the northern shores of the lake and several miles to the southeast, staring listlessly out his bedroom window as he tried to scrape together the shards of his broken heart. Amy lay beneath warm quilts with his wounded eyes in her thoughts, and she tried desperately to make her own bruised heart see reason.<\/p>\n

Eventually, she thought perhaps she\u2019d even succeeded, at least somewhat. Months went by, and at last talk of Julia Bulette began to dwindle away. People still talked about Joe, of course, but the Cartwrights would always be talked about. Because of that ongoing talk, she learned that Joe, though he was still sticking close to home most days, was more himself now. He was beginning to make occasional\u00a0forays into town to drink beer and play poker, so he must be recovering from his heartbreak. Still, if Amy\u2019s friends\u2019 opinions were to be believed, he was rather more subdued than he\u2019d been before \u2018the incident.\u2019<\/p>\n

That\u2019s what young ladies referred to the affair as\u2014\u2018the incident,\u2019 as if it was nothing more than an unfortunate and dismaying accident Joe had fallen into. As the reigning prince of Virginia City, the hopelessly charming and doted-upon son of the powerful Ben Cartwright, he was once more considered an extremely eligible bachelor.<\/p>\n

Not for her, though. On the day before her world changed forever, that was the thought in Amy\u2019s head as she lay sunning on the banks of the creek, her skin still damp from the water. Not for her. Never for her. She\u2019d loved a sunny boy with sparkling eyes, but the man who had wanted to give up everything to be with a well-known prostitute was a dark degenerate whom she knew nothing at all about. Her father had been right all along.<\/p>\n

Funny how thinking about it didn\u2019t even make her quite as sad anymore. The acceptance of it brought with it a numbness, but no real emotion. You have no place in my life, Joe Cartwright.<\/em> She repeated the words over and over. The boy she\u2019d loved was gone. If indeed he\u2019d ever really existed at all.<\/p>\n

It was the last thought that drifted through her sleepy mind there on the grassy creek bank.<\/p>\n

The abrupt hammer of distant hooves made her start. She snapped\u00a0to attention and\u00a0shot to her feet even as she grabbed for her clothing, scrambling into her chemise. Riders, this side of Jackson\u2019s Meadow? What on earth\u2014<\/p>\n

Panic shot through her as she realized how fast the horses were moving. She was about to be caught out here in the altogether, and how awful would that be? She stepped into her bloomers, yanking desperately as the thin fabric twisted and clung to her damp legs. Heavens, nobody ever rode up here; the soil was too poor to support decent pasture, so even the cattle rarely roamed close. But someone was certainly coming now.<\/p>\n

The pounding of the hoofbeats quickly grew more distinct. She could now hear that there were two riders. They were almost upon her. With one leg still caught up in the uncooperative bloomers, she hopped on one foot into the thick cover of stand of elderberry bushes\u00a0that stood\u00a0guard at the edge of the creek, snatching up her dress as she went. Crouching slightly, she held her breath as one rider shot past and crashed through the creek and across the meadow beyond, the hoofbeats of his horse dwindling away to nothing even as the second rider approached.<\/p>\n

Her heart stopped, and she thought there was a good possibility she might faint. On the back of that black-and-white paint pony rode Little Joe Cartwright.<\/p>\n

And just like that, she fell to pieces. Her knees threatened to buckle; she staggered, and when she did, she stepped on a dry branch. The loud snap from the breaking wood immediately gave away her position amid the elderberry bushes. She shut her eyes in prayer.<\/p>\n

Please don\u2019t let him see me.<\/em><\/p>\n

But of course it was too late for prayer. She opened her eyes to see Joe pull his horse to a stop. He scanned her hiding place for two brief seconds before yanking his gun from his holster. The click of the hammer echoed across the water at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, come on outta there,\u201d he called quickly.<\/p>\n

Oh, God, she didn\u2019t want to see him . . .<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNow, look, I\u2019m gonna count to three.\u201d His voice came clipped and fast. \u201cYou don\u2019t come out, I\u2019m gonna start shootin\u2019. One.\u201d He was nervous, she could tell. He had no idea who was hiding in the bushes, and she knew he meant what he said.<\/p>\n

Her heart sank as she realized she had no choice.<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t shoot!\u201d She pulled in a bracing breath and fought her way out of the bushes, her dress still clutched in front of her. \u201cPlease,\u201d she said. \u201cI didn\u2019t do anything wrong.\u201d The words burst out nervously with a small laugh as her mind scampered about in search of escape. Maybe now that he saw she wasn\u2019t the one he\u2019d been chasing after, that she was nobody to fear, he\u2019d simply ride on. Move quickly out of her sight and back out of her life, just the way he\u2019d always done.<\/p>\n

Please, please, please . . .<\/em><\/p>\n

But no. His lips turned up in a ghost of a smile and instead of riding on, he got down from his horse and sauntered slowly toward her. Curiosity flitted across his handsome features, as did an interest that warred with\u2026what? Arrogance?\u00a0\u00a0 Apparently satisfied that she was no threat, he put his gun back in its holster, stopping short of crossing the creek to her side.<\/p>\n

Well, of course he would show arrogance, she thought. He was Joe Cartwright. And that arrogance did something to her. It replaced her desperation with anger. It began to burn slowly within her even as he stopped moving and stood, staring at her from across the creek, his hands on his hips and his chin up.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you were trespassin\u2019,\u201d he said.\u00a0Gentle challenge was in the accusation and that, in addition to the widening of his grin, was enough to make her temper flare completely into life. How dare he? How dare he stomp on her heart without ever knowing who she was? How dare he ruin himself with the likes of Julia Bulette? How dare he come here, on Bishop land, and show his face?<\/p>\n

How dare he look like that, with a face an angel would envy?<\/p>\n

Righteous fury and hard resolve strengthened her spine. She threw her own chin up. \u201cTresspassin\u2019? You must be a Cartwright.\u201d She spat it out like it was an insult, and like it had only just occurred to her who he must be. He certainly didn\u2019t need to know that his face was burned into her brain, that she\u2019d recognize him anywhere. She wouldn\u2019t give him that power over her.<\/p>\n

But any insult in her response was lost on Joe. He nodded and his grin widened. \u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d There wasn\u2019t a hint of shame in his voice, and that fed her anger, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cThought so. One of those high and mighty Cartwrights who thinks he owns all the land in Nevada.\u201d Words she\u2019d heard all her life from her pa. Words she knew to be true because she\u2019d been raised on them. She might not have flung them with such force at another time, but right now\u00a0they were the only weapons she had at hand.<\/p>\n

Instead of taking offense, he tugged at the brim of his hat in apology, and his face turned serious. \u201cOh, we don\u2019t own all the land, ma\u2019am. Just a good piece of it,\u201d he said, as if in simple explanation to a newcomer. And then that grin, that infuriating grin, was back. \u201cIncludin\u2019 that piece you\u2019re standin\u2019 on right now,\u201d he said, pointing at her feet, and it was obvious that he was intentionally goading her.<\/p>\n

It enraged her that he thought he could get a rise out of her for his own entertainment. \u201cThis land belongs to my pa.\u201d She dared him to argue, wished<\/em> he would argue so that she could more easily dislike him.<\/p>\n

Realization and wonder lit his eyes. \u201cYou mean Luther Bishop?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d Take that, Joe Cartwright.<\/em><\/p>\n

But instead of frowning or turning away, he grinned even bigger, actually looking as though he was happy to be standing here with a Bishop. \u201cHey, you must be Amy!\u201d<\/p>\n

She was stunned. He knew her first name?<\/p>\n

Any softening she might have had toward him was cut short as he outwardly studied her. \u201cHey, you\u2019ve grown up some.\u201d There was a note of something new in his voice as he looked at her, something that caused her nerve endings to shout warnings at her. When his eyes roved boldly up and down her body, she knew what those warnings were for. Here<\/em> was the face of the man who had spent time in the company of women who bestowed their favors with abandon. Appreciation was in his stare now, the sort of appreciation a man had for a woman. Here <\/em>was a man with appetites that were quenched by the likes of Julia Bulette.<\/p>\n

And here she stood, she belatedly remembered, practically naked in front of him, covered with only bloomers and a chemise with her dress still clutched to her chest. He seemed to realize it at the same time she did. His eyes looked older, suddenly. Harder. Danger was not a word she had associated with Little Joe Cartwright until this minute, but now she wondered how she hadn\u2019t seen it before. She found herself glad that the creek lay between them, weak barrier though it might be.<\/p>\n

Cartwrights always thought they could take what they wanted. No doubt Joe Cartwright was thinking right now . . .<\/p>\n

Well, she<\/em> was no Julia Bulette. \u201cNow, if you don\u2019t mind gettin\u2019 out of here,\u201d she snapped, \u201cI\u2019d like to put my dress on.\u201d<\/p>\n

Instantly, the appreciative look was gone from his face, replaced by a studied sincerity that made her fairly sure she was being mocked. \u201cIf that\u2019s worrying you, Ma\u2019am, I won\u2019t look,\u201d he said, the hard glitter in his eyes gone, replaced by twinkling mischievousness. He turned his back, tipping his black hat forward to ride low over his eyes as if to give her increased security against him peeking at her.<\/p>\n

She started to shake out her dress, watching him the entire time to make sure he didn\u2019t try to watch her get dressed. Only he didn\u2019t try. Not even a little. Just stood there with his back turned as he had promised.<\/p>\n

She was absurdly insulted. She might not be as loose as the women Joe Cartwright preferred to share company with, but by golly, there was nothing wrong with her, was there? She was pretty enough, wasn\u2019t she? Pa said she was beautiful, and she\u2019d had her share of young men asking to call on her; she\u2019d even kissed one of them once. She wasn\u2019t a child.<\/p>\n

Only . . . only the things Joe had done with Julia went far beyond kissing. The truth was, Amy would have no idea how to entice him, how to bring back that hard glitter she\u2019d seen in his eyes a moment ago, a gleam she\u2019d instinctively known was desire.<\/p>\n

She stared at his back and then at the dress in her hands. What if she was to just drop it on the ground? Call Joe\u2019s name, smile at him, tell him to come across the creek and join her? It apparently took a real woman to hold Joe Cartwright, and she could be like that.<\/p>\n

But the thought was a fleeting one. She was not a loose woman. She was nothing like the kind of women who drew Joe Cartwright. Nothing like Miss Bulette.<\/p>\n

Sadness and desperation flooded through her. It was in that moment that she saw the frog sitting in the grass at her feet, and an idea came to her. And she did something she knew she would be slightly ashamed of for the rest of her days.<\/p>\n

She nudged the frog with her foot to make it jump, and then she screamed. Shrill, gasping screams that made Joe whirl around to find out what had attacked her. In seconds he was bounding across the creek, his boots flying lightly across rocks in the water to reach her. He grabbed her and pulled her to him, his arms going around her in instinctive protectiveness. She took in the seriousness of his expression even as she became aware of the heat of his hands through the thin fabric of her chemise.<\/p>\n

Embarrassment over the charade to which she\u2019d resorted made her look away from him. \u201cIt was just a little ol\u2019 frog,\u201d she said, and tried to laugh. Only she couldn\u2019t, because, after all, she was standing here in her undergarments with a man. No, not with just a man\u2014with Little Joe Cartwright.<\/p>\n

Oh, dear Lord, what was she thinking? This was a mistake. And then she looked into his face, and what she saw in his eyes caught at her soul. Awareness, and vulnerability. Suddenly he looked impossibly young, closer to the little boy she\u2019d first seen all those years ago than to the man who had fought his family and an entire community to be with the infamous Julia. For the first time, she felt stronger and more in control than he was.<\/p>\n

There was something else in his eyes, too. Pain. Pain? And . . . fear? Fear of what? Fear that he was about to do something he shouldn\u2019t? Somehow, she didn\u2019t think so. She had the uneasy feeling it was fear that he<\/em> would be hurt.
\nPa was right. She didn\u2019t know Little Joe Cartwright. She could see things going on behind his eyes\u2014dark things that she couldn\u2019t put a name to. And yet, she was sinking into those eyes as surely as she breathed air.<\/p>\n

He let her go then, and she felt the loss of his heat. \u201cYou better put your dress on.\u201d His voice was huskily soft, and he let his gaze travel down her length for only the briefest of moments before he turned his back once more.<\/p>\n

A crazy part of her wanted to pull him back to her, to lie down on the grass with him and spend the rest of the day, the rest of her life, learning how to please him. But of course she couldn\u2019t do that. It wasn\u2019t in her to do that. She wouldn\u2019t even know how to begin.<\/p>\n

She pulled her dress back on.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cYou can turn around.\u201d<\/p>\n

He did, and the darkness she\u2019d caught sight of was gone. He was smiling again as if nothing had happened.<\/p>\n

He immediately noticed her struggling to reach the buttons at her back. \u201cHere, let me help you,\u201d he said, and she gave him her back. She shouldn\u2019t have trusted a Cartwright to help her across the street, and here she was letting one button up her dress. She wanted to shake her head at the absurdity of it. His scent drifted over her shoulder, and she turned her head slightly to pull in more of it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m, uh\u2014I\u2019m sorry if I scared you before,\u201d he said softly. She could feel his fingers expertly maneuvering the buttons. She pushed away the images that tried to invade her thoughts of how he must have learned to do that. \u201cI really didn\u2019t mean to,\u201d he continued. Didn\u2019t mean to what? Her mind was foggy. He was turning her into a complete scatterbrain. Oh, he didn\u2019t mean to frighten her, that\u2019s what he meant. His voice sounded so, so young. How could a man sound that young and still be such an expert with ladies\u2019 clothing? He was such a contradiction.<\/p>\n

Oh, if only he did<\/em> frighten her. If he did, she\u2019d be in a much better position to protect herself, heaven knew. These were dangerous, dangerous waters she was treading. She needed to leave. Right now. She needed to save herself. She needed to get away from him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you are,\u201d he said, finishing with the buttons, and she turned to face him. He looked so boyishly innocent that she couldn\u2019t help but smile. Long seconds went by, seconds she should\u2019ve spent putting distance between them.<\/p>\n

Only she couldn\u2019t. She couldn\u2019t stop looking at him, couldn\u2019t stop drinking him in. No wonder women threw themselves at him. The pull he had was . . . was . . .<\/p>\n

She shook herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d better be goin\u2019,\u201d she stammered.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, me too. I\u2014I have a lotta calves I\u2019m supposed to bring in before dark.\u201d His voice was slightly unsteady, and she realized with shock that it was because of the way she<\/em> was affecting him<\/em>. A delightful surge of power moved through her.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cPa\u2019s gonna wonder what happened to me,\u201d he added, and again he sounded hopelessly, impossibly young.<\/p>\n

Murmurings of the gossip of the previous year came back to her. \u2026they say Little Joe won\u2019t leave the house . . . whole family\u2019s up in arms . . . worried sick . . . Ben\u2019s beside himself . . . doctor . . . worried over his state of mind . . . medicine . . . melancholy . . .<\/em><\/p>\n

Pa\u2019s gonna wonder what happened to me . . . <\/em>They watched him still, she realized suddenly. He\u2019d been badly injured by \u201cthe incident,\u201d and his family was still protective, still worrying about him after . . . after . . .<\/p>\n

An unbidden image of the long-ago frog with the missing leg came to her. . . . sometimes there\u2019s more hurt on the inside . . . a survivor. Wish him well, child. Let him stay with his own kind; they know better than we do how to make him happy.\u201d
\n<\/em>
\nNo, Pa, she thought. I\u2019m sorry, but I can\u2019t do what you say this time. Not this time.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou come here very often?\u201d Joe said suddenly, his face open and boyish and sincerely hopeful, the direct opposite of what she\u2019d imagined Julia Bulette\u2019s lover must look like. His hopefulness reached out and grabbed her up, making her heart swell with joy. Of course she would see him again. She couldn\u2019t imagine not doing so. She\u2019d die if she couldn\u2019t. She smiled and nodded. \u201cMost every day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a0\u2019bout this time?\u201d he asked, and she wanted to laugh, for he reminded her of a puppy begging to be scratched behind the ears.<\/p>\n

A Cartwright and a Bishop. Oh, she was a traitorous daughter. But she realized now that she\u2019d been fighting a losing battle all along.<\/p>\n

Joe nodded, and touched the brim of his hat. \u201cI\u2019ll see you then.\u201d And she knew he meant it as he turned away. He did plan to see her again, despite the sudden shyness in his demeanor.<\/p>\n

She watched him move toward his horse. The infamous Joe Cartwright she\u2019d heard all the gossip about wouldn\u2019t have been afraid to talk to her for a longer time. The Joe Cartwright the gossips spoke of would have seduced and ravished her right there beside the water, would have ruined her and turned her into a woman like Julia Bulette. She wondered which Joe was the real one. And then she realized she didn\u2019t even care, for she loved everything in him, the dark and the light.<\/p>\n

Suddenly desperate to hear his voice just once more before he rode away, she tried to think of something to say.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you the one they call Little Joe?\u201d she called, and could have bitten her lip over the silliness of the question. After they\u2019d had more time to talk, she\u2019d tell him the truth, about how she\u2019d known who he was all along. How she\u2019d always been in love with him, the boy from the family she was forbidden to associate with. How her heart had nursed a crush on him since she was eight years old. She\u2019d tell him everything. And maybe he\u2019d tell her some of those dark secrets he was holding inside. She didn\u2019t have to know, but if it would help him heal from what had happened with Julia, then she wanted to hear it.<\/p>\n

His shyness seemed to have evaporated as he answered her. \u201cYeah, I\u2019m the one.\u201d<\/p>\n

Yeah, I\u2019m the one. With all the good and bad that comes with it, I\u2019m the one.<\/em> Confident. Sure of himself. He offered no apology for being \u201cthe one they call Little Joe,\u201d and she knew he never would. Nor would she want him to.<\/p>\n

And once more he was the Joe Cartwright most people saw, the one she had expected to see in the first place. Arrogance again showed through the way he held himself, and she wanted to laugh. Her prince had managed to heal up fairly well indeed. She wondered if he had any idea how much of himself he\u2019d opened up to her view in these few short minutes. She would bargain that there weren\u2019t many people outside his family who would ever be allowed to see the scars he\u2019d received from his relationship with the infamous Julia Bulette.<\/p>\n

He presented himself as whole and strong and untouchable because that\u2019s what Cartwrights did. She wondered if he did it on his own, or if his pa had told him he had to put on a strong front. Someday she\u2019d ask him.<\/p>\n

He looked at her again, promise in the set of his jaw, and then he touched spurs to his horse and was soon out of sight. She shook her head, still reeling from what she had set in motion. What she now ran toward with arms opened wide.<\/p>\n

She went home. She slept. And when she had awoke in the morning and found that\u00a0her entire world had shifted, she knew it was all because of an injured prince.<\/p>\n

A Bishop and a Cartwright. She sighed, and shook her head. Even without Joe\u2019s past\u2026even without that, the odds against them were overwhelming. She still had no idea how it could possibly ever work, and she was frightened. She wasn\u2019t sure which scared her more\u2014trying to cross the lines that divided their families, or trying to follow in the footsteps of a woman who had known how to keep Little Joe captivated.<\/p>\n

Still, she knew she would try, and she knew she\u2019d need to lean on Joe\u2019s self-assurance to remind her that they\u2019d make<\/em> it work, despite a world that would surely try to keep them apart.<\/p>\n

Oh, yes, she was a traitorous daughter. But her heart . . . no, her heart wasn\u2019t treacherous at all, despite what she\u2019d always believed. It was devoted, intensely loyal, and had always been.<\/p>\n

After all, it had known to whom it belonged since Amy was eight years old.<\/p>\n

The End<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/g><\/svg><\/i> \"Loading\"<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: Did Amy Bishop know of Joe’s love affair with Julia Bulette? If she did, what did she think of it? How did she come to terms with it once she herself was in a relationship with him?\u00a0 Written in response to the ‘Missing Scenes’ challenge here on BB, and inspired by a question posed on another site.<\/p>\n

Rated: K+ WC 7900<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":65,"featured_media":4492,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[23,61,30,3,27,13],"tags":[16],"class_list":["post-7427","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-missing-scene","category-prequels","category-romance","category-whi","category-whn","tag-joe","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-61-id","wpcat-30-id","wpcat-3-id","wpcat-27-id","wpcat-13-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":2176,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/truckee60.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":3724,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=3724","url_meta":{"origin":7427,"position":0},"title":"Une Petite Mort (A Little Death) (by Sue)","author":"Sue","date":"April 26, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: A \u2018what happened in between and next' for one of my favourite episodes, Julia Bulette. What happened after Joe proposed and rode home and also after Julia's funeral. How was he with his father and his brothers? Rated:\u00a0 T \u00a0WC \u00a055,200","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":22972,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=22972","url_meta":{"origin":7427,"position":1},"title":"Reputation (by Patina)","author":"patina","date":"June 22, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: A What-Happened-In-Between for the Julia Bulette Story. Some wounds never heal. 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