Sacrificial Lamb
Part 1: Exodus
By Kathleen T. Berney

“I’m NEVER . . . never, never, EVER gonna try and out bluff my brother playing poker ever again!” Stacy Cartwright vowed silently, as she crossed the yard, between the house and barn with bucket and shovel in hand. It all started with a friendly, penny ante poker game after supper last night . . . .


“All right, OLDEST Brother of Mine,” Joe said, his face set like granite, void of any and all sign of emotion, “I’ll see your raise . . . . ” He dropped three toothpicks, one by one, on top of a large and still growing pile in the middle of the dining room table. “ . . . and I’LL raise it by FIVE more.” Again, one by one.

“Dadburn it, Li’l Brother, you’re gettin’ awful greedy!” Hoss groused in disgust.

“Not at all, Big Brother, not at all!” Joe retorted in a lofty tone. “I just figured that it’s time to start separating the adults from the children.”

“Adults from the children indeed!” Adam remarked sardonically, as he and Hoss each took five toothpicks from their respective piles and added them to the one in the middle of the table.

“Stacy?” Joe turned toward his younger sister expectantly.

“Darn! I used up the rest of what little toothpicks I had on ADAM’s last raise,” Stacy sighed dolefully. “You guys wouldn’t consider extending me a little credit . . . would you?”

“Not a chance,” Joe said firmly, “ ‘specially since you won’t be seeing your allowance again until sometime next month . . . . ”

That was part of her punishment for the barroom brawl she had unwittingly instigated at the Silver Dollar Saloon on the night of Matt Wilson’s bachelor party two and a half weeks ago now. She had no idea . . . no idea in the world that the fracas would escalate to the scale it finally did. Thankfully, she was able to pay for the damage done to the Silver Dollar, through a stroke of sheer luck. Had that not been the case, she, in all likelihood, wouldn’t be seeing her allowance ever again until certain nether regions known for unbearably hot temperatures experienced a sudden cold snap.

Pa HAD taken all those things into account . . . .

“ . . . along with the fact that I was trying to help out a friend,” she murmured softly.

Bless his heart, he HAD gone a lot easier on her than he might have otherwise. Although Stacy knew and appreciated that, it DID make times like this difficult. “Looks like I’m done for the night,” she sighed again.

“Well, now you just hold on right there, Little Sister,” Joe said. “You might be able to offer up something in trade.”

“Like what?” Stacy asked warily.

“Starting tomorrow morning, it’s MY turn to muck out the stalls for a week,” Joe said.

“So?”

“So . . . if YOU win, you collect the pot. If I win, you take MY turn mucking out the stalls.”

“Now you just hold on right there, Li’l Brother,” Hoss protested with a scowl. “What do Adam ‘n I git out of it?”

“Tell you what,” Joe said slowly, thoughtfully. “IF Stacy’s agreeable, the deal can include taking YOUR turn to muck out the stalls the week AFTER.”

Hoss smiled. “I can live with that,” he agreed.

“That’s just fine and dandy for the two of YOU, but what do I get out of it?” Adam demanded.

“What do you want out of it, Adam?” Joe asked.

“You was talkin’ the other night ‘bout how Benjy ‘n Dio ain’t had much chance at learnin’ to ride a horse,” Hoss said.

“Yeah,” Adam nodded his head. “So what?”

“So Stacy here’s ‘bout the best there is when it comes t’ teachin’ folks how t’ ride,” Hoss said, with a touch of pride. “Maybe we could sweeten the pot by havin’ HER teach Benjy ‘n Dio when they come in a couple o’ weeks.”

Adam looked over at his wife, Teresa, seated next to Ben on the settee with her nose firmly planted in the book cradled in her hands. “Teresa? How does that sound?”

No answer.

“Teresa . . . . ”

Ben reached over and gently touched her shoulder. “Teresa, I think y---”

His words were rudely cut off mid-sentence when his daughter-in-law gasped and started violently. The book seemed to leap from her hands, arcing high above her head, and landing with a dull thud on the coffee table.

“S-sorry I startled you,” Ben murmured a quick apology.

Teresa noted her father-in-law’s quick, rapid breath, and dark brown eyes round as saucers. “L-looks like I should apologize myself . . . for startling YOU,” she said sheepishly.

“I-I think Adam was trying to get your attention.”

Teresa nodded her thanks, then turned and looked over at her husband expectantly.

“We were discussing the possibility of Stacy teaching Benjy and Dio how to ride when they get here,” Adam said. “Is that alright with you?”

“Stacy IS very good at teaching other people how to ride,” Ben hastened to assure his daughter-in-law. “You couldn’t ask for a better teacher, even if she IS my daughter and I DO say so myself.”

Teresa smiled and nodded. “It’s alright with ME, Adam,” she consented, “IF Benjy and Dio WANT to learn.”

“That’s fair enough,” Adam agreed.

“OK, as dealer, I call,” Joe said. He fanned his cards and placed them down on the table. “We may as well declare me the winner here and now, Folks. I have a full house.”

“Don’t count your toothpicks yet, Baby Brother,” Adam said, grinning from ear to ear. “If memory serves, four of a kind beats a full house.” He spread his cards, four sevens, nine of hearts high down on the table for all to see.

Stacy exhaled the breath she had been holding. “Looks like I’M the big winner tonight,” she declared with a broad grin. “Read ‘em and weep!”

“Wouldja look at that?! Nine . . . ten . . . jack . . . queen . . . and king of clubs!” Joe’s hazel eyes nearly bulged right out of their sockets. “Little Sister here was sitting on a straight flush, and a real high one at that!”

“Looks like our baby sister speaks true,” Adam sighed. “Only one thing can beat THAT hand . . . . ” He started to push the large pile of toothpicks dominating the center of the table over toward Stacy.

“Now you jus’ hold on right there, Adam!” Hoss reached out, placed a restraining hand on Adam’s forearm. “Y’ ain’t seen MY hand yet!” He placed his cards down on the table, one by one, smiling victoriously. “Ten . . . jack . . . queen . . . king . . . an’ ace . . . of hearts!”

“I don’t believe this!” Joe squeaked, as he, Stacy, and Adam stared down at Hoss’ cards, their faces identical masks of shock and astonishment . . . .


“Just my luck! The first decent hand I had all night . . . and Big Brother gets dealt a ROYAL flush!”

Stacy paused momentarily, at the midway point of her trek between house and barn, to watch the sunrise. The murky, deep port wine, almost black sky faded into varying shades of maroon and blood red as the sun cleared the line of trees and mountains along the distant horizon. The deeper reds brightened to brilliant shades of crimson and scarlet, then to a luminous near orange.

The words of a rhyme Silver Moon, her Paiute foster mother, taught her as a child many years ago rose to the forefront of her thoughts, as she turned and resumed her trek to the barn:

“Grandfather Sun wakes from bed
to sky of red
fierce storms lie ahead.”

That reminded her of another rhyme, one she had learned from her father. He had obviously learned it long ago, when he made his living as a sailor back east:

“Red sky at night,
sailors’ delight.

Red sky in the morning,
sailors take warning.”

Upon reaching the barn door, Stacy relegated the weather rhymes and their dire portent to the back of her mind, and turned her thoughts to the chores at hand. She shifted the shovel from her right to left hand, then reached out to open the door. As her fingers loosely closed around the handle, she noticed that the door stood slightly ajar. Stacy frowned. She had been the last one to leave the barn last night, and knew full well that she had firmly closed the door behind her.

Stacy tightened her grip on the door handle and opened the barn door, slowly and quietly. She set the bucket just inside the door, then grasped the shovel in both hands. Allowing her eyes a moment to adjust from daylight outside to the dimness inside the barn, Stacy’s eyes moved slowly over every square inch lying within her field of vision. There was nothing amiss. She tightened her grip on the shovel, and stepped through the door, into the barn. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Her horse, Blaze Face responded with a soft whiney.

Stacy nickered back in response. “Good morning, Blaze Face,” she translated her “horse” greeting into human English. “I’ll be right with you.”

Keeping herself well within the deep shadows of the dimly illuminated barn, Stacy moved silently as Silver Moon had taught her, peering intently into all of the stalls, occupied or not. In the empty stall beside Sport II, the horse her oldest brother, Adam, had been using during his visit, Stacy spotted what appeared to be a large sack of potatoes, lying on a mound of straw, under a light, sky blue blanket.

Suddenly, the “sack” rolled over. Stacy found herself staring down into a pair of blue eyes, nearly the same shade of bright sky blue as her own.

“Hello,” the “sack” greeted her with a wan, tired smile. “My name’s Peggy van Slyke, though Uncle Ben, Adam, and the rest of the family probably remember me better as Peggy Dayton.”

“Pleased to meet you. My name’s Stacy Cartwright.”

Peggy slowly eased herself from a prone to a sitting position. “You some long lost relative of Uncle Ben’s?”

“Yes, I guess you might say that,” Stacy said wryly. “I’m his daughter.”

Peggy’s jaw dropped. She stared up at Stacy through eyes round with shock and amazement.

“Long story,” Stacy said, extending her hand.

Peggy reached up and grabbed hold of Stacy’s hand with a grip surprisingly strong. “Adopted?”

Stacy braced herself, then pulled, drawing Peggy to her feet. “Yes, I WAS legally adopted, though we found out later he’s . . . well, he’s ALSO my pa . . . by blood.”

“ . . . uh, l-let me get this straight! Uncle Ben adopted you . . . b-but, he’s ALSO . . . your natural father?!”

“I told you it’s a long story.”

“Thank you, I . . . . ” A sudden wave of dizziness sent Peggy’s senses reeling.

“Are you alright?” Stacy anxiously peered into Peggy’s wan face, while gently laying a steadying hand against her back, just below her shoulder.

“F-fine,” Peggy stammered, squeezing her eyes shut against her spiraling, churning environment. “I guess I’m a bit light headed . . . haven’t eaten much in the last couple o’ three days . . . . ”

Her cheeks and lips, stained with the fading remnants of cosmetics, stood out in stark contrast against her pallid skin. The dress she wore, custom made judging its precise fit, had been fashioned from silk, and dyed blue to compliment her eyes. It had a high empire waist, and square neckline, cut low to tastefully accentuate a pair of full, well rounded breasts. The hem of her skirt was torn and muddied, and a maze of deep wrinkles cris-crossed the garment in hopeless profusion. Golden tendrils of hair, escapees from what remained of an elaborate coiffure, encircled her face like writhing snakes, emphasizing a pair of enormous sapphire blue eyes and a square chin, set with stubborn determination.

Gazing into Peggy’s eyes, Stacy was reminded of a fairy tale she had read not so long ago in a book she stumbled across during the course of a rainy day foray through the ranch house attic.

Titled “The Handless Maiden,” it was the story of a young woman, whose father had inadvertently given her to the Devil to be his wife in exchange for wealth and prosperity. On the day appointed for the Devil to come and claim the daughter as his bride, she dutifully bathed, dressed herself in a white gown, and then sat down to wait. When the Devil came, he couldn’t approach her. An unseen force hurled him across the yard. He angrily promised to return again in a month. During that time, the girl was not to bathe.

A month later, the Devil returned. The girl and her parents wept for grief. The girl’s tears ran like rivers down her palms and forearms, cleansing them of all the accumulated dirt, grime, and filth. Once again, when the Devil tried to approach her, he was tossed across the yard by an unseen force. The Devil ordered the girl’s father to cut off her hands, on pain of death for all. The girl submitted to the amputation, but her continued weeping cleansed the stumps of her arms, barring the Devil from approaching her.

Ultimately, the Devil rejected her as wife. The girl subsequently set out on her own, and eventually met a king, who fell in love with her. They married, and she soon after became pregnant with their first child. The king went off to war just prior to the birth of the child, and through a series of miscommunications, the girl, now queen, believed her husband wanted to murder her and her unborn child. The young queen fled, giving birth to her son in the forest where she sought refuge. Her hands, amputated on order from the devil, were also restored. Eventually, the king, queen, and infant prince were reunited, and in the way of all fairy tales, lived happily ever after.

Six engravings, skillfully rendered, with very fine detail, illustrated the story. One showed the pregnant young queen fleeing through the woods, for her life. Surprisingly, the woman’s face showed not the slightest sign of fear. Instead, it radiated a tremendous depth of strength, power, and fierce determination. Stacy also saw in that engraved illustration, a beauty there, that rare, awe-inspiring beauty, born of strength and courage, that permeates such a person’s entire being.

Gazing into Peggy’s pale face and her enormous blue eyes now, Stacy saw the same courageous strength and obstinate determination. The face in that engraving had come to life, transforming paper and printer’s ink into flesh and blood. Then, in less than the wink of an eye, the image vanished, as if it had never been.

“Oh m-my God . . . I . . . I think I’m gonna be s-sick . . . . ” Peggy turned, grasping the sides of the empty stall in which she had slept the night before, as a violent spasm of dry heaves shook her entire body.

Stacy stepped over beside Peggy, placing her hands gently, yet firmly on her shoulders, hoping her touch might offer some measure of comfort and reassurance. She could not remember a time in her entire life when she had ever felt so dreadfully helpless. “I wonder if this is the way PA feels whenever Hoss, Joe, or I’ve come home sick or injured . . . and HE can’t do anything about it either,” she mused silently.

At length, the dry heaving lessened, leaving Peggy feeling exhausted.

Stacy silently noted, for the first time, the gently rounded belly protruding from under the flow and drape of garment. “Come on, Peggy, let’s get you into the house.”

“D-dizzy . . . not sure if I . . . . ” Peggy’s words faded into a soft, barely audible moan. Her eyes rolled up under her eyelids, and her entire body went limp.

Stacy, with heart in mouth, grabbed Peggy’s inert body as she pitched forward. Clinging to the unconscious woman for dear life for fear of dropping her, she managed to ease her back down onto the straw covered floor.



The sound of the front door opening, followed by the clattering staccato of booted feet against hard wood floor drew Adam Cartwright, still clad in nightshirt and robe, from the dining room and his early morning coffee like a shot. He found the front door standing wide open and his sister beating a straight path toward the stairs.

“Stacy, you left the front door— ”

“Adam, is Pa awake yet?” she rudely cut him off mid-sentence.

All reprimands died a sudden quick death, upon getting a good look at her pale face and bright blue eyes round with alarm. “No, I don’t think Pa’s awake yet,” Adam replied. “Is there something I can do?”

“There’s a woman out in the barn. Says her name’s Peggy van Slyke . . . . ”

Adam frowned.

“ . . . she told me you might remember her better as Peggy DAYTON.”

Adam could feel the blood suddenly draining from his face. “P-Peggy . . . d-did you say . . . Peggy Dayton?”

Stacy nodded. “She’s out in the barn, Adam. She’s in a real bad way.”

“Let’s go!”



Adam followed Stacy across the yard toward the barn, with chaotic thoughts churning through his head a mile a minute. Many years ago, Peggy had gone with her mother, Laura Dayton, to San Francisco to join Will Cartwright, his first cousin, who had gone on ahead to accept a job offer. The last he had heard of either Laura or Peggy was by way of a letter to his father from Will. In that piece of correspondence, dated a year, maybe a year and a half after the Daytons left Nevada, Will had told his uncle that he and Laura had agreed to call off their engagement. No reason given, other than the implied mutual consent.

Adam himself left the Ponderosa and Virginia City soon after, finally settling down in Sacramento, where he met and married Teresa di Cordova, and established for himself a fine career and reputation as an architect. Though he hadn’t thought of Laura in the years following, Adam did occasionally think of Peggy, wondering what ever became of the rambunctious, spunky little girl, who he had briefly come to cherish almost as much as he now cherished his own daughter, Dio.

Adam and Stacy found Peggy, where the latter had left her a scant few moments before, lying ominously still. With heart in mouth, he dropped down on his knees beside the unconscious young woman, and gently took her limp hand in his. It was alarmingly ice cold to the touch.

Stacy knelt down on the other side of Peggy, facing her oldest brother. “Adam, she’s not . . . . ?”

“She’s alive!” Adam exhaled a long sigh of relief. Still holding her hand, he gently patted her cheek and spoke her name in a quiet, firm tone. “Peggy? Peggy, can you hear me?”

Peggy moaned softly at the sound of her name.

“Stacy, g’won back in the house and wake Pa,” Adam ordered in a crisp tone, all-business. “Tell him I’m putting Peggy in the guest room downstairs.”

Stacy nodded. In the next instant, she was gone.

Adam rose to his feet, then leaned over and scooped Peggy’s limp, inert form in his arms. She moaned again as he lifted her, and stirred, though her eyes remained closed. As he walked back across the yard, he saw his father standing on the front porch, also clad in pajamas and robe. The anxious concern in Ben’s eyes mirrored all the dread Adam himself felt inside.

“Go ahead and take her on into the downstairs guest room, Son,” Ben said, when Adam reached the front steps with Peggy. “I’ve asked Stacy to wake up Joe. I’m sending HIM into town to fetch Paul.”

“We need to get her out of these wet, muddy clothes, Pa,” Adam said tersely, “the sooner the better. Her whole body’s like ice.”

“Not WE, Adam, ME!” Teresa, also garbed in nightgown and robe, stood just inside the house with one of her own nightgowns, the red and white striped flannel, draped over her arm.

“Mrs. Teresa, got towels, nice and hot!” Hop Sing announced as he marched into the great room from the kitchen, with a stack of steaming hot towels.

“Thank you, Hop Sing, I’ll take them,” Teresa said, holding out her arms. “Adam, you take Peggy on into the guestroom. I’ll be there directly.”

Adam nodded, and carried the still unconscious young woman toward the open door of the downstairs guestroom.

“Teresa, is there anything I can do?” Ben asked anxiously.

Teresa shook her head. “For now, I’m just going to get her out of those wet clothes and into something warm and dry,” she said quietly. “Apart from that, we’ll just have to wait and see what Doctor Martin says.”

“You’ll let Adam and me know when she wakes up?”

“I will,” Teresa promised.



Stacy, meanwhile, ran headlong down the upstairs corridor toward her brother’s bedroom. Within seconds, she skidded to an abrupt halt in front of the fast closed door. She balled her hand into a tight fist and pounded hard enough to rattle the door on its hinges.

“Go ‘way!” a groggy masculine voice groaned from within.

Stacy threw open the door, and bounded inside. Three running giant steps brought her to the side of his bed in less than a second. She placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him vigorously. “Wake up, Grandpa.”

Joe opened one eye and glared murderously at her. “If you think for one minute you’re gonna weasel out of our bet last night . . . . ”

“Pa needs you to ride into town and fetch Doc Martin. Now!”

Joe immediately sat up, wide awake, every last trace of grogginess gone. “What happened? Someone hurt?”

“You remember a woman named Peggy Dayton?”

“P-Peggy Dayton?!”

Stacy nodded. “I found her out in the barn a few minutes ago. She’s probably with Adam, Pa, and Teresa downstairs in the guest room . . . and from the looks of things she’s in a bad way. Pa wants you to ride into town and fetch Doctor Martin.”

Joe threw aside the bedcovers and whipped both legs over the side of the bed. “Tell Pa I’ll be right down, soon as I throw some clothes on.”

Stacy nodded. “I’ll get Cochise saddled, too, Grandpa.”

“Thanks, Stace . . . . ”



Doctor Paul Martin quietly stepped out of the downstairs guestroom, closing the door behind him. “You’ll be happy to know that Miss Dayt----no! MRS. VAN SLYKE is going to be just fine,” he wearily addressed the Cartwrights, Ben, Hoss, Joe, Stacy, Adam, and Hop Sing, all clustered together at the door. “All she needs is a few days bed rest and plenty of good, hot, nourishing food. And I DO mean PLENTY! That young lady’s eating for TWO.”

Hoss’ jaw dropped. “Y-you mean . . . . ”

Paul nodded. “She’s pregnant, five months along, maybe six.”

“I kinda thought so,” Stacy said quietly.

Joe frowned. “Y’ know . . . somehow, I can’t quite feature Laura Dayton being a GRANDMA,” he said slowly.

“Yes, as I recall, Laura had a certain . . . helpless, childlike quality about her,” Ben recalled thoughtfully. A lot of men, his eldest son and nephew among them, were charmed and captivated by that quality. As for himself, Ben had always liked Laura well enough as friend and neighbor, and would certainly have accepted her as a daughter-in-law, had she and Adam married. Given his own druthers, however, Ben preferred strong, passionate, independent women. In years past, he had married three and cherished one more: Elizabeth Stoddard, Inger Borgstrom, Marie di Marigny, and Paris McKenna. Now, his life was blessed with three more such women: Stacy, the daughter he had with Paris; Teresa, the woman his eldest son finally DID marry; and Dio, Adam’s daughter, his GRANDdaughter.

“Ben?”

“Yes, Paul?”

“I need to speak with you. Would you mind seeing me to my buggy?”

“Not at all.”



Ben and the doctor walked over toward the latter’s buggy in companionable silence. Paul carefully placed his black bag on the floor of the passengers’ side, then resolutely turned to face his old friend.

“Ben, I didn’t want to say this in front of the others, but someone’s been beating that young lady,” the physician stated grimly, “to literally within an inch of her life.”

“What!?” Ben favored the doctor with a bewildered frown. “Paul, are you sure?”

The physician nodded. “Whoever it was has obviously taken care not to leave marks where they would show, but under her clothing . . . . ” he sighed, and angrily shook his head. “She’s covered with welts, cuts, and bruises. Her entire back is scar tissue and open wounds.”

“O-open wounds?”

“Yes, Ben, open wounds, recently inflicted!”

“HOW recently inflicted?”

“As recently as four, maybe five days ago.”

Ben suddenly felt the wind being knocked out of him, as if he had just taken a hard physical blow to his solar plexus. “Y-you mean t-to tell me . . . someone’s been beating her . . . since . . . since---!?”

“Yes, someone has been beating her throughout her entire pregnancy.”

A murderous scowl deeply creased Ben’s brow. He unconsciously drew the fingers on each hand together, forming a pair of tightly balled, iron hard fists. “Whoever’s responsible ought to be taken out and SHOT,” he spat, “just like any other rabid animal.”

“I agree with you, Ben, one hundred percent.”

“Did she say who---?”

Paul nodded. “The man’s name is Brett van Slyke, Ben. He’s Peggy’s husband AND the father of her unborn child.”

“THINK, Laura . . . . ”

Laura Dayton, clad in a powder blue silk dressing gown, trimmed at the neck and sleeves with feathers dyed to match, relentlessly paced the floor of the hotel room she shared with her aunt, wringing her hands in despair. “Aunt Lil, please! I’ve spent the last three days thinking, and thinking, and thinking some more, trying to figure all this out, but I don’t know! I . . . just . . . don’t know!”

“Damn it, Laura, we’ve GOT to find her! Think HARDER! The two of you used to live on the other side of the lake, over in Nevada. Surely you had friends . . . . ”

“That was a long time ago, Aunt Lil,” Laura whined petulantly. “We left there when Peggy was a little girl.”

“Laura, will you for heaven’s sake STOP that damned pacing?” Lil Manfred snapped.

Laura immediately stopped mid-stride, and gingerly took a step backward, raising her arms, as if to ward off physical blows. Though she stood a good head taller, and outweighed her aunt by a good fifteen, maybe twenty pounds these days, Aunt Lil was still an imposing figure, especially with that look on her face.

“Sit down.”

Laura meekly obeyed, seating herself primly on the edge of the bed dominating the center of the hotel room.

“We’ve GOT to find that sorry, pathetic little bitch, and get her back with her husband, where she belongs.”

“But, Aunt Lil, Peggy’s been so UNHAPPY . . . especially since she married Brett,” Laura wailed.

“Have you forgotten which side of the bread OUR fortunes are buttered on?” Lil rounded on her niece furiously.

Laura hunched down in her satin wrapper, shrinking away from the intense baleful glare her aunt leveled in her direction.

“Laura, please. Get this through your head. I lost nearly every penny of that fortune, I inherited from my late husband, MANY. YEARS. AGO. The only reason WE have a nice place to live in San Francisco, with nice clothes, and nice things . . . is because PEGGY is the wife of Brett van Slyke. If she’s LEFT him, you and I are out on the street DESTITUTE!”

“No,” Laura vigorously shook her head.

“YES, Laura,” Lil addressed her niece in the insultingly condescending way an impatient adult might speak to an extraordinarily stupid child. “The ONLY reason Mister van Slyke provides so generously for US, for you and me, is because Peggy is married to his son. If that stupid little brat does anything to change that, he WILL cut us off.”

Laura looked over at her aunt, through eyes round with horror and dread. “Surely he realizes we have no place to go . . . . ”

“I’m sure he does, but if Peggy leaves his son, OUR situation’s no concern of HIS,” Lil shrugged. “Why SHOULD it be?”

“Aunt Lil, Peggy told me he . . . that Brett . . . BEATS her!” Laura whispered, horrified. “That he’s BEEN beating her all along.”

“Well, if Peggy’d grow up and stop acting like a spoiled brat, maybe he WOULDN’T beat her,” Lil argued vigorously. “All right! I knew Brett had a temper, AND a bit of a jealous streak, but all men do, Laura. They DO! It’s the natural way of things.”

“Adam didn’t,” Laura said in a small, sad voice.

“You’re right! Adam Cartwright’s one of those rare ones who didn’t,” Lil ranted. “Now if you’d married HIM, you, me, AND Peggy’d be sittin’ real pretty on top of all that nice Cartwright money. I had it all set up for ya, Laura. I had Adam Cartwright in the palm of your hand, all wrapped up like a Christmas present, but YOU let him slip right through your fingers.”

“I loved WILL,” Laura said defensively, her voice tinged with lonely regret.

“You weren’t SUPPOSED to!”

“I . . . I couldn’t help it, Aunt Lil.”

“I don’t understand you, Laura. Adam Cartwright in the palm of your hand, and you cheerfully toss him aside to follow Will Cartwright, the no good, no account first cousin without a penny to his name, to San Francisco . . . only to have HIM dump ya a year and a half later.”

“It wasn’t WILL’S fault, Aunt Lil . . . . ”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Lil said in a dismissive tone. “We can’t go back and change the past. All we can do now is try and salvage the present. That means finding Peggy and bringing her back.”

Laura buried her face in her hands and began to cry softly. This was all such a terrible, dreadful nightmare. She prayed desperately for this horrid dream to end, that she might open her eyes and find herself back in her lovely bedroom in San Francisco, surrounded by that lovely light cream colored wall paper covered with clusters of tiny pink roses and ribbons, with the morning sun shining in the window.

Or maybe, just maybe, Laura might open her eyes and find that last thirteen plus years had all been a bad dream. She would wake up in that ranch house, she once shared with her late husband, Frank, and be a young woman once again. Her daughter, Peggy, would again be as SHE should be . . . an energetic little girl, without a care in the world.

Laura, Aunt Lil, and Peggy had accompanied Peggy’s husband, Brett, to Placerville, where, he had important business. So he and his father said, anyway. Brett had adamantly insisted on Peggy accompanying him, despite her advancing state of pregnancy. Laura’s thoughts drifted back to the frightful row she had overheard between Peggy and Brett the night before they had all left San Francisco . . . .

“Brett, NO!” Peggy had protested, horrified. “The baby! The doctor says--- ”

“I don’t care WHAT any ol’ doctor says! YOU are MY wife, you’ll do as I say!”

“But the baby!”

“The baby’ll be fine!”

“Brett . . . . ”

“Are you having an tryst with Doctor Phillips?”

Stunned silence.

“Well? ARE you?”

“NO!”

“You ARE!”

“No, I’m not, Brett, I swear . . . . ”

“Oh yes you ARE! You can’t wait for me to go to Placerville, can you? You can’t wait because the minute I leave you’ll be in Doctor Phillips’ arms.”

“NO!”

“Oh YES, you will!”

Peggy screamed. Screamed in agony.

“You’ll be in his arms, letting him paw you like . . . like some kind of wild animal! ADMIT IT!”

“NO! I WON’T ADMIT IT, BECAUSE IT’S NOT TRUE! IT’S A DIRTY, FILTHY, VICIOUS LIE!” Peggy’s angry, vehement denial ended in another agonized scream, this one worse than the last.

“ADMIT IT, YOU LYING SLUT!”

“NO!”

“I SAID ADMIT IT!”

“BRETT, NO! PLEASE!”

“I SAID ADMIT IT! YOU ARE HAVING A LOVER’S TRYST WITH THAT DOCTOR.”

Peggy screamed again. “I’M NOT, BRETT. I’VE NEVER BEEN UNFAITHFUL TO YOU. NEVER EVER! PLEASE, BRETT, PLEASE BELIEVE ME!”

Laura heard the sound of flesh making forceful contact against flesh, mixed with Peggy’s screams of agony and heart wrenching sobbing. Laura squeezed her eyes shut, and clapped her hands firmly over her ears. “N-no,” she sobbed. “Please, no! Don’t hurt Peggy, don’t hurt my little girl, please . . . . ”

“Laura, snap out of it!”

Lil’s words, harshly spoken, forced Laura from her terrible reverie. She stared up at her aunt, her cheeks wet with tears, unable to speak.

“Here!” Lil snapped. She angrily threw a clean handkerchief down in Laura’s lap. “Wipe your face.”

Laura, her hands trembling, dutifully picked up the handkerchief and began to gingerly wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“I was just thinking . . . . ” Lil mused grimly. “Placerville’s a good hard day’s ride from Lake Tahoe . . . but, unless my memory of geography’s faulty . . . guess what lies on the OTHER side of the lake?”

“I don’t know!” Laura said petulantly.

“G’won, Laura, take a guess!”

Laura had no liking at all for the malevolent smile now oozing it’s way slowly across the lower portion of her aunt’s face. “I . . . I don’t know, Aunt Lil.”

“The Ponderosa!” Lil crowed.

“So?”

“So . . . isn’t that where Adam and his family live?”

Laura dolefully shook her head. “Adam doesn’t live there, Aunt Lil, not anymore. I heard . . . oh, its been awhile . . . but I heard that he lives in Sacramento . . . that h-he’s married now, and has a couple of kids.”

“Weren’t you and Peggy fond of ALL the Cartwrights? If memory serves, THEY were pretty fond of the two of YOU.”

“Y-Yes . . . I suppose so!”

“Well, Laura, I’ve done some checking around,” Lil said. “That Ben Cartwright’s a shrewd one when it comes to making money, no denying THAT! It seems he’s had a steamboat line running across Lake Tahoe for a few years now. The boat sails between a landing on this side of Lake Tahoe to another that’s . . . get THIS . . . on the Ponderosa itself.”

“So WHAT?”

“Honestly, Laura, I swear you’re thicker than a gallon of molasses!” Lil declared with an exasperated sigh. “The point I’m TRYING to make is maybe . . . just MAYBE our pretty Peggy took the boat across to the other side, and hooked up with the Cartwrights.”

“I don’t know, Aunt Lil, it’s been so long, and I . . . well, I stopped writing them after Will and I--- ”

“Think about it!” Lil snapped. “The Ponderosa’s convenient, and the Cartwrights are the ONLY ones I know who’d be stupid enough to take Peggy in, even if they knew full well who and what they’re up against, Adam or NO Adam. Laura, get dressed, and for heaven’s sake be quick about it! You and I will be taking the ten o’clock stage to Virginia City. We should arrive there around ten o’clock tomorrow morning. We’ll have plenty of time to book a couple of rooms at the International Hotel and freshen up, before paying the Cartwrights a visit tomorrow afternoon.”

Laura’s heart sank. “Aunt Lil, I . . . I really don’t think this is such a good idea. Mister Meredith, I’m sure, has things pretty well in hand, and besides . . . after all this time the Cartwrights are . . . well, they’re no better than strangers. I don’t think Peggy would go there, I honestly and truly don’t.”

“I’m not going to stand here all day and argue the point with you.” Lil’s voice was ice cold. “We’re going to Virginia City today and tomorrow afternoon, we start looking for Peggy at the Cartwrights. End of discussion! Now, you get up and get dressed, while I go make the travel arrangements. When I get back, I want you packed and ready to go.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Laura sighed meekly.

Ben sighed and turned back the pages of his ledger to those dated the first of the month previous. Three times he had carefully added the long rows of figures, and come up with three different totals. Now he faced the distasteful prospect of going through the entire process a fourth time. He closed his eyes and began to gently massage his temples.

“Mister Cartwright.”

Oh blessed interruption! Ben slowly opened his eyes and looked up into the grim face of Hop Sing.

“Supper ready ten minutes.”

“Did I just hear you say supper’ll be ready in ten minutes, Hop Sing?” Hoss asked as he stepped through the open front door, into the house.

“Yes. Supper ready ten minutes,” Hop Sing curtly reiterated. “Where everybody go? Supper ready ten minutes, nobody here! Where Little Joe and Miss Stacy? Where Mister Adam and Mrs. Teresa?”

“Adam and Teresa are present and accounted for, Hop Sing,” Adam said, as he followed his wife in through the front door. “Joe and Stacy are at the pump outside washing up.”

Hop Sing rolled his eyes and shook his head. “If Little Joe and Miss Stacy all muddy again from mud fight, Hop Sing quit. Go back to China.” With that, he abruptly turned heel and marched resolutely toward the kitchen, muttering a string of invectives under his breath.

Hoss, Adam, and Teresa stared after the retreating Hop Sing, speechless, their faces nearly identical masks of utter bewilderment.

“Pa?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“What’s the matter with Hop Sing? Did he get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

Ben sighed. “I’m afraid it’s Peggy.”

“Peggy?!” Adam echoed incredulously.

“Yes, Peggy. Adam, you know how Hop Sing is. Doc Martin tells anyone of US to eat, well . . . he’s bound and determined we’re going to eat, come hell or high water.”

“So . . . what’s this got to do with Peggy?”

“Today, Peggy was just as bound and determined that she WASN’T going to eat because she wasn’t hungry,” Ben replied acerbically, unable to completely mask his own frustration. “To say that this hasn’t been an easy or pleasant day would be a gross understatement.”

“I’m very sorry about that, Pa,” Adam murmured contritely. “At the same time, I hope you realize that poor girl in there . . . . ” he inclined his head toward the closed door to the downstairs guest room, “ . . . is sick, angry, and probably more frightened than she’s ever been in her whole life.”

“I know, Adam, I know . . . and I’m trying very hard to be patient, but--- ”

“Supper four minutes!” Hop Sing announced tersely and he ambled back into the great room, where most of the family had gathered near Ben’s desk. He carried a tray in both hands, with a bowl of chicken soup, a piece of toast with jelly, and a large steaming mug of hot chamomile tea. “This tray for Missee Peggy!” He thrust the tray into Adam’s outstretched hands, then ambled back toward the kitchen.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Joe called out an affable greeting to the family members gathered around his father’s desk, as he paused before the credenza just long enough to remove his gun belt.

“We were talking about Peggy,” Ben said.

Joe sighed and sarcastically rolled his eyes, remembering the set to between Peggy and Hop Sing at breakfast, and later at the noon meal. “Pa, don’t tell me those two are STILL at it!”

“I’m afraid they are, Joe,” Ben sighed disparagingly.

“Look! Why don’t the rest of you go on into the dining room and sit down?” Teresa suggested as she put out her hands to take Peggy’s supper tray from Adam. “I’ll take this to Peggy.”

“You sure, Teresa?” Adam asked.

Teresa smiled and nodded. “I intend to have a talk with her, too, Adam. Woman to woman.”

“Now hold on just a minute!” Joe protested. “Teresa, you can’t go in there and brow beat her for heaven’s sake. This kinda thing requires delicate handling.”

“Oh?” Adam queried with left eyebrow slightly raised.

“That’s right,” Joe affirmed with an emphatic nod of his head. “Adam . . . . ”

“Yes?”

“Between you ‘n me?” Joe continued sotto voce. “Teresa with her, ummm way of charging in like a herd of stampeding cattle works well enough in handling the kids, I s’pose . . . but a situation like Peggy requires at lot of charm and finesse from someone who KNOWS how to handle women.”

“I see. I’m almost afraid to ask this, Little Brother, but . . . you, uhhh . . . don’t have somebody specific in mind to . . . . ” Adam queried, half fearing he already had a very good idea who his youngest brother had in mind.

“Who else but ours truly?” Joe said with a bold, cocky smile that confirmed the very worst of Adam’s fears. He took the tray from Teresa. “I’LL take this in to Peggy.”

“This I’VE got to see,” Adam muttered sardonically under his breath.

Joe with tray in hand walked resolutely toward the door of the downstairs guestroom, his face set with grim determination. He paused at the door, and knocked.

“Who is it?” Peggy demanded sullenly from within.

“Joe Cartwright, Ma’am, with your dinner.”

“Go ‘way. I’m not hungry.”

“Peggy, Doc Martin gave strict orders for you to eat,” Joe countered in a honey-sweet tone of voice that prompted a soft groan and sarcastic roll of the eyes from his oldest brother. “ ‘Good food and lots of it,’ those were the doc’s exact words.”

“I SAID I’m not hungry.”

Joe frowned. “Peggy, this has gone far enough.” He opened the door and marched right in, bold as brass. “You are going to eat every bit of what’s on this tray . . . or ELSE!”

“ . . . or else WHAT?!”

“So much for charm, finesse, and delicate handling,” Adam murmured softly, his voice filled with fatalistic aplomb.

“Now you listen to me and you listen good. You are going to eat everything on this tray . . . and I MEAN everything or . . . or . . . or so help me, I’ll feed it to ya . . . like a baby!”

“Try it!”

“Alright, if that’s the way you want it.”

The sound of footfalls, heavy with anger and growing more so with each step fell on the ears of everyone still gathered around Ben’s desk, followed by the clattering sound of a tray slamming down hard onto a wood night table.

“Nice going, Baby Brother,” Adam sighed with a touch of sarcasm. “Half the soup in the bowl’s just gone all over the tray.”

“Adam, I really think this was a big mistake,” Teresa murmured ruefully.

“Ok, Peggy, you have two choices. We can do this the real nice ‘n easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”

“GET OUT!”

“Oooohh . . . kaa-aaay, you wanna do it the hard way? Fine!”

“I SAID GET OUT!”

“Open wide, Peggy . . . . ”

A guttural squeal of protest came in response through lips obviously fast closed.

“You’re making this a lot harder than it has to be . . . . OW! YOU . . . YOU BIT ME!”

“I’LL DO WORSE THAN THAT IF YOU DON’T GET OUT OF HERE AND LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT . . . I’M GOING.”

At that moment, Stacy walked in through the front door. “If I’d known you guys were calling a meeting, I’d have gotten back in here sooner,” she quipped, as she started across the room toward where the rest of her family remained gathered.

“PEGGY, NO! DON’T YOU DARE!”

The sound of Joe’s voice, raised in anger and healthy fear, halted Stacy mid-stride. She turned her attention to the guest room door, just in time to see the youngest of her three older brothers bolting out at a dead run. “Grandpa?”

Joe, now positioned between the door and his sister, caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and instinctively ducked. The supper tray he had taken in to Peggy flew over his head a split second later, smacking Stacy upside the head before she could even think of reacting, spilling soup and tea all over her and the surrounding floor. The force of the blow threw off her sense of balance, knocking her flat on her rump.

Ben and Hoss quickly moved to her side.

“Stacy? Are you alright?” Ben queried anxiously, as he and Hoss knelt down on either side of her.

“Only thing severely injured is my dignity, Pa,” she responded stiffly. “You have a handkerchief?”

“I’ve got a clean bandanna, Li’l Sister.” Hoss dug the bright red bandanna from his pocket and held it out to his sister.

“Thanks, Big Brother.” Stacy accepted the proffered bandanna and used it to mop up the chicken broth and tea from her face. “Now somebody’d better get me a wash cloth and a bar of soap.”

“After supper, we’ll get you into a nice hot bath if you’d like,” Ben offered, as he and Hoss helped Stacy to her feet.

“Pa, I need the soap right now for my mouth,” she said grimly, glaring daggers into the depths of the guestroom.

“Why? You haven’t said anything,” Ben protested.

“No, but I’m ABOUT to!” She turned and started toward the guest room.

“Now you just hold on a minute, Li’l Sister.” Hoss put out a hand to stop her.

“Hoss, let go of me!”

“Not ‘til you count t’ ten ‘n calm down.”

“I’ll do that AFTER Peggy and I have a nice little chat about good manners!”

Hoss grabbed his young sister by the waist and slung her over his shoulder like an inert sack of potatoes with almost ridiculous ease. “Looks like YOU need t’ cool off!” he declared, before turning heel and heading on a straight path to the door.

A long string of clipped, terse syllables poured from between her lips, as she struggled to free herself from her big brother’s firm grasp.

“Paiute, Pa?” Adam asked as he and Ben stepped to the threshold of the front door together.

“Yep,” Ben nodded. He turned toward his youngest son, who stood back away from the door, his eyes and face a mixture of contrition and regret. “Joseph?”

“Y-yeah, Pa?” he queried, mentally bracing himself.

“I think you’d better g’won upstairs and fetch down that washcloth and soap your sister asked for.”

Adam turned and looked over at his father in surprise. “You KNOW what she’s saying?”

“No, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t think I really want to know.”

“Then, h-how---!?”

“Son, I may not be able to give you an exact translation of what your sister’s saying, but from the WAY she’s saying it . . . those words’ve got to be some real humdingers.”

“ERIC HOSS CARTWRIGHT, YOU PUT ME DOWN, RIGHT NOW THIS VERY INSTANT!”

“Anything you say, Li’l Sister.”

Hoss dropped Stacy into the horse trough out front. She came up less than a second later, coughing and sputtering.

Ben rolled his eyes, then shook his head.

“Pa, look at the bright side,” Adam quipped, marveling, not for the first time, at how some things never changed.

“WHAT bright side?” Ben growled.

“That dip in the horse trough just saved Hop Sing from having to do extra laundry.”

Ben glared at Adam, then set off across the yard to intervene between his second son and only daughter.

Teresa moved into the place vacated by her father-in-law. “You think maybe it’s time Peggy and I had that conversation we should’ve had in the first place?” she queried sardonically, with eyebrow slightly upraised.

“Woman to woman?”

“Woman to woman.” Teresa gave Adam’s hand an affectionate squeeze, then moved off.

“Adam?” It was Joe. “I . . . I’m sorry . . . I guess I kinda made a mess of things . . . didn’t I.” It was a statement of fact, rather than a question.

“It’s MY fault, too,” Adam admitted ruefully. “If I hadn’t forgotten one of the very first lessons I learned after Teresa and I said, ‘I do,’ well . . . suffice it to say our big brother wouldn’t be at the horse trough right now doing Little Sister’s laundry . . . with her still wearing it . . . because I would NEVER have allowed you to take that tray in there in the first place.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Now let me get something straight here, Oldest Brother of Mine,” Joe continued. “You wouldn’t let ME go in there, if you’d had your wherewithal about ya . . . but you’re letting your wife walk into the den of that she-tiger?”

“Yep,” Adam replied. He placed a paternal arm around his youngest brother’s shoulders and lead him toward the dining room, making sure he took a path that lead well away from the guest room. “Little Brother, I’m gonna let you in on a secret most men don’t find out until after they’ve made that long walk down the aisle,” he said, taking great care to lower his voice. “The only person in this whole wide world who REALLY knows how to handle a woman is . . . another woman.”

Teresa, meanwhile, walked over to the guestroom door, still open, and peered inside. She saw Peggy lying in bed, her back pointedly toward the door. “Peggy?”

“Go ‘way.”

Teresa stepped inside and softly closed the door. “Peggy, you and I need to talk,” she said in a quiet, gentle tone that held in it all the firmness of steel.

“Why don’tcha just go ‘way ‘n leave me alone?”

“Because I . . . all of us . . . care about you very much, Peggy, and we want very much to help you.”

Peggy rolled over and glared up at Teresa, blue eyes meeting and holding eyes dark brown, almost black. “Has . . . has Adam told you who I am?” she asked derisively.

“Yes,” Teresa replied as she crossed the room from the door to the side of the bed Peggy occupied.

“Maybe more to the point, has Adam told you about my mother?”

Teresa drew up the only chair in the room along side the bed. “If memory serves, your mother is Laura Dayton,” she said in a bland tone, as she sat down. “She and Adam once loved each other very much. They were engaged briefly, ending it when she found that she was in love with Adam’s cousin, Will.” She paused. “Does that about cover it?”

Peggy’s shoulders sagged, as the angry wind left her sails. “Y-yes, I guess it does.”

“For your information, Adam told me about your mother and about the other significant ladies in his life during our courtship,” Teresa added. “I was equally forthcoming about the men I had loved in my own life, before Adam.”

Peggy lapsed for a moment into an uneasy, guilty silence. “Sorry,” she murmured at length.

“Apology accepted,” Teresa said. “My reason for coming in here is to remind you that Adam, Ben, Hoss, Joe, and Hop Sing remember you and your mother very fondly. Though Stacy and I don’t know you very well, at least not yet, knowing that the others care for you a great deal and want to help you . . . well, that’s good enough for us.”

Peggy averted her gaze from Teresa’s warm brown eyes to the window on the other side of the room, her eyes blinking excessively. “I’m . . . sorry I threw my supper tray at Joe just now.”

Teresa smiled and placed a comforting, reassuring hand on Peggy’s shoulder. “From what I heard out there, I’d say Joe probably deserved it. The ones you really owe apologies to are Hop Sing, Ben, and Stacy.”

“Stacy?”

“I’m afraid she got caught in the cross fire when you threw your supper at Joe.”

“Oh.” She turned and gazed earnestly into Teresa’s face, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I . . . I hope Stacy’s alright.”

“Stacy’s fine. Hoss took her outside to clean her up a little . . . . ”

Peggy winced, remembering the string of what had sounded in her ears as brusque, clipped, unintelligible syllables shouted at top volume. “Hoss didn’t take Stacy outside just now to clean her up. He really took her outside to keep her from cleaning my clock, didn’t he?”

“That, too.”

Peggy sighed and shook her head. “Maybe I should go back.”

“Back where?”

“To my husband.”

“That’s a decision only you can make,” Teresa said quietly. “At the moment, however, you’re in no shape to travel. The doctor was absolutely right when he said that you need to take the next few days to rest and eat.”

Peggy responded with a soft, morose sigh.

“Once you’re back on your feet, feeling stronger, then you can start making your own decisions as to what you’re going to do,” Teresa said, gentle yet firm. “But, Peggy?”

Peggy looked up at Teresa expectantly.

“You DO need to eat, not only for yourself but for the unborn child you carry. I know it’s not easy sometimes. I have two children of my own, and my morning sickness lasted throughout the entire nine months of my second pregnancy.”

“Right now, the thought of food just turns my stomach, Teresa,” Peggy groaned. “Maybe a bit of weak tea later?!”

“Alright,” Teresa nodded. “In the meantime, you rest. I’ll bring you some tea in a little while.”

“TODAY, Mister Adam, make sure Missee Peggy EAT breakfast,” Hop Sing admonished the eldest of the Cartwright offspring severely, the following morning. He placed a tray with two pieces of toast, no butter but with a generous spoonful of jelly on the side, and a mug of chamomile tea into Adam’s outstretched hands. “Miss Peggy eat! She eat for TWO now! All day yesterday, she not eat!”

“Hop Sing, I promise you, Peggy WILL eat today, starting with what’s on THIS tray, if I have to force feed her myself,” Adam responded with a confidence he was very far from feeling. He, then, walked over toward the downstairs guestroom in his father’s home, with tray firmly in hand, pausing to knock softly on the fast closed door.

“Come in.”

Adam opened the door and stepped inside. He found Peggy sitting up in bed, wearing the nightgown borrowed from his wife, Teresa the day before. Though her hair yet remained a tangle, all trace of the lingering cosmetics had long since been washed from her face. “Good morning, Madame, breakfast is served,” he said suavely, placing the tray on her lap. “Hop Sing left very strict orders for you to eat everything, and I do mean everything. Or else.”

“Or else WHAT? Another royal row like we had yesterday?”

“No, Peggy, yesterday in the course of that royal row, Hop Sing was merely taking your measure. Now that he’s got your number, you can bet on the consequences being worse. MUCH worse.”

A bare hint of a smile tugged at the left corner of her mouth. “How much worse?”

“You don’t want to know, Peggy, trust me.”

“Adam?”

“Yes?”

“Can you . . . can you stay with me awhile?”

“Absolutely.” Adam took hold of the nearest chair and drew it up beside the bed. “I can stay as long as you want.”

“I want to apologize, Adam,” she said contritely, “for being such a rude, ill-mannered guest yesterday. I . . . I just don’t know WHAT got into me. I mean, here you all are, trying to help me and what did I do? I started the day picking a fight with Hop Sing, and later sent poor Joe fleeing from my room with my supper flying behind him, and . . . and ended up clobbering Stacy . . . not to mention poor Uncle Ben, bless his heart!”

“You were hurt, cold, sick, and angry yesterday,” Adam said quietly.

“ . . . and a lot scared,” Peggy added in a small voice.

“I think the others understand that.”

“Joe, Stacy, and Hop Sing were pretty mad,” she said contritely, “and . . . I don’t think Uncle Ben was very happy with me, either.”

“You can apologize to them later.”

“I hope they’ll let me.”

“You should know PA better than that,” Adam chided her gently. “As for Hop Sing and my youngest siblings, I know all the three of them burn bright and very hot when they get angry, but their anger passes quickly.”

“I hope so.”

“Now if you want a sure fire way of worming yourself back into HOP SING’S good graces, you’ll eat everything that’s put in front of you.”

“I’ll try, Adam.” Peggy picked up a piece of toast and spread a generous spoonful of jelly over its surface.

“How are you feeling today?”

“I feel a little better, actually. My stomach’s a bit rough, but I’m not feeling cold anymore or as sick as I was yesterday.”

“How about the others?”

“The hurt, angry, and a lot scared?”

Adam nodded.

“Adam, I . . . I need help,” she said. “Desperately!”

“I’ll do anything I can to help you, Peggy,” Adam earnestly promised. “I want you to know that.”

“Thank you, Adam. I . . . I think DID I know that, deep down. That’s why I ended up here.”

“How can I help you?”

“I left my husband three days ago,” Peggy said quietly. “He tried to kill me . . . AND kill my baby.” She took a bite from the piece of toast in hand, chewed, and swallowed. She placed the toast back down on the plate, then looked up into Adam’s face earnestly, her sapphire blue eyes locking and holding onto his brown ones. “I’ve already suffered TWO miscarriages because of . . . because of his . . . beatings. That’s two babies I’ve lost. I . . . I can’t bear the thought of losing a third--- ” Any further words were drowned in a sudden, fierce torrent of weeping.

Adam deftly removed the tray from Peggy’s lap, then gathered her in his arms in much the same way he did when she was a little girl, hurting and in need of comfort. “That’s right, Peggy,” he murmured softly. “That’s right, let it all out! I’m right here . . . and I’ll BE right here.”

Peggy buried her head against his shoulder, and wept, clinging for dear life. Adam Cartwright had, in so many ways, become the father she had lost so young, and so long ago. He had worked hard to cultivate her friendship in the first terrible weeks following the death of her own father, Frank Dayton, even though she had made her initial dislike for him perfectly clear. He was always so nice, with a warm smile, a pleasant word, the occasional present. Once, he had given her a pony, whom she named Traveler, and taught her how to ride. She remembered the games they played together, the picnics, the times he was there to comfort her when she was hurt or sad, and see her through life’s hard lessons like the wolf pup named Prince.

Peggy also realized, much to her shock and astonishment, how dreadfully much she had missed Adam over the years that had passed, since she and her mother left Nevada to follow his cousin, Will Cartwright, to San Francisco. Will was a wonderful man, and Peggy had loved him very much, but somehow he was never quite the father Adam had been.

At length, her tears finally subsided, and with them some of the anger and hurt that had built up over the years, especially since her marriage to Brett van Slyke. “Thank you, Adam,” she murmured in a small, quiet voice.

“I meant it when I said that I’m here for you,” Adam said. He dug into a pocket and pulled out a clean, if slightly wrinkled handkerchief. “I don’t want you to forget that.”

“I won’t.” She wiped her eyes with Adam’s handkerchief, then started to nibble gingerly on the toast. “So . . . what do I do now?”

“For the next few days, you follow Doctor Martin’s orders,” Adam said firmly. “You rest, AND you eat.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Pa’s gone into town today to run a few errands, and take care of business,” Adam continued. “He told me that he was going to stop in and see Lucas Milburn, that’s HIS lawyer, and make some inquiries. The rest will probably depend on what Mister Milburn has to say.”

Peggy, much to Adam’s relief, began to wolf down the remaining piece of toast in her hand. “Oh, Adam, there’s so much I have to figure out . . . where am I going to live? How am I going to support myself AND my baby?”

“I won’t lie to you, Peggy,” Adam said quietly. “You WILL have a lot of things to work out, a lot of decisions to make. It’s NOT going to be easy.”

“Y-you think I . . . I have what it’s gonna take for me and my baby to be on our own?”

“No, Peggy, I don’t THINK you have what it takes, I KNOW you have what it takes, and THEN some,” Adam said firmly.

Peggy finished the last of her toast, then looked up at Adam earnestly. “Thanks, Adam, I . . . I needed to hear that.” She sighed. “Sometimes, I feel so strong and powerful inside, I feel like I could go right out and single handedly push the entire Sierra Nevada Range into the Pacific Ocean. But, at other times . . . times like y-yesterday? I feel so overwhelmed by it all . . . . ”

“I know, Peggy, believe me . . . I know.”

“You, Adam? Somehow, I can’t quite imagine YOU feeling overwhelmed by anything.”

“There was the time Joe and I went out hunting for a lone wolf that had been preying on our livestock,” Adam said. “We trapped the wolf inside Montpelier Gorge. Joe shot and wounded him. Then I raised MY rifle . . . and . . . and f-fired--- ” A wave of dizziness swept over him, as the blood ebbed from his face leaving his normally robust complexion ashen. He slowly, one by one drew his fingers together into a pair of tightly balled fists in an attempt to quell his hands’ trembling.

“A-Adam?” Peggy peered over at him anxiously.

Adam squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take deep, even breaths. The intensity of feeling, memories of that incident had aroused, shocked and stunned him.

“Adam, y-you don’t have to tell me if--- ”

He took one more deep breath, then slowly opened his eyes. “I’m alright, Peggy.” He managed a wan smile for her benefit.

“If it’s going to upset you, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I think telling you might do us both some good,” Adam said quietly. He fell silent for a moment to try and recollect his thoughts. “I fired at that wolf, after Joe’d wounded him, and . . . I missed. I . . . I ended up hitting Joe.” He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, ragged breath. “I had no idea he was even there. I SHOULD’VE known, but for some reason, the thought never occurred to me.”

Peggy quietly placed her had overtop Adam’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“The minute Joe fell, that wolf was on him. I beat the wolf off, using the butt end of my rifle as a club, then shot him, but not before he mauled Joe very badly.”

Adam told her about the arduous ride toward home, clasping his gravely wounded brother close, fearing Joe would die of blood loss before they had gone half way.

“Then . . . thank God . . . I met the Reardons.”

“Who were the Reardons?”

“Emmett Reardon was a retired coal miner from Pennsylvania,” Adam replied, as he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants along the length of his thighs. “He and his daughter, Sheila came out west from Philadelphia hoping a change of climate would help his. Mister Reardon’s lungs suffered a lot of damage breathing in coal dust over the many years he labored as a miner.

“For me, that day, they were an absolute godsend! Here they were, complete strangers, yet they willingly offered to take Joe and me home in their buggy. It was getting late by the time we reached the house, so I invited them to say over until morning. They accepted, and you know what, Peggy?”

“What?”

“I never had to ask their help,” Adam said. “They offered it. Sheila fixed us all dinner that night, and made sure there was plenty of coffee and sandwiches on hand. I spent a lot of time in Joe’s room, looking after him, keeping watch . . . falling asleep on my feet, literally. Sheila Reardon marched right in and bodily threw me out, with strict orders to go to bed. She and her father both took turns keeping watch on Joe through the night, and they patiently listened to all my ranting and raving.” He sighed and shook his head. “Peggy, everything that could have possibly gone wrong that day and night . . . DID.”

He told her about sending Hoss to Virginia City to fetch the doctor, and to wire their father in Sacramento. The doctor, however, was at the Fleming home. Mrs. Fleming was about to give birth . . . a breech birth. “By the time the Doctor Hickman arrived HERE, infection had set in . . . with a vengeance.”

“Even though you had already removed the bullet?!”

Adam nodded. “There was also the possibility that Joe had contracted rabies when the wolf had mauled him. Doctor Hickman prescribed some medicines, even went so far as to tell me Joe would die without them,” he continued wearily. “Then he had to leave right away because . . . well, if he wasn’t there when the baby came, mother and child would have almost certainly died.”

“They . . . they didn’t . . . did they?” Peggy queried, afraid to ask the question, yet more fearful of not asking.

“No,” Adam hastened to reassure. “Today, Mrs. Fleming is the proud mother of six boys and one girl . . . and proud grandmother of twelve grandchildren with three more on the way.”

Peggy exhaled an audible sigh of relief.

“Sorry,” Adam apologized.

“It’s ok, Adam,” Peggy said quickly. “Did Hoss get the medicine that Doctor Hickman prescribed for Joe?”

“Not in Virginia City,” Adam replied. “They were completely out. Hoss ended up going all the way to Genoa, to a pharmacy warehouse there.”

“Genoa?! Oh, Adam . . . that’s gotta be at least fifteen miles away!” Peggy gasped. “I would have been going out of my mind!”

“Actually, the warehouse in Genoa’s closer to being TWENTY miles away, and . . . I WAS going out of my mind,” Adam said soberly, “and . . . things were about to get even worse.” He told her about the man, whose last name was Dowd. Hoss had met him and his two companions in the pharmacy.

“Dowd and his partner claimed that the gunfire from our rifles . . . mine and Joe’s . . . had spooked a herd of horses they had captured out on the range,” Adam continued. “The frightened horses SUPPOSEDLY escaped, trampling the corral fences under hoof. That evening, Dowd showed up here, at the house, with two other men. He told me that Hoss had to go to Genoa, then demanded three thousand dollars for loss of stock and damages. Hoss told me later that when he had met them in the pharmacy, they had told HIM the cost of damages totaled ONE thousand dollars.”

“The only reason I can come up with for the discrepancy is they decided they were entitled to more because of the . . . well, the obvious wealth and success of the Ponderosa,” Adam said with a dark scowl.

“That’s not fair!” Peggy said quietly, with conviction. “Uncle Ben and the rest of you have worked very hard for what you have.”

“You’re absolutely right! It’s NOT fair!” Adam said bitterly. “But, fair or not, there’s a lot of people out there . . . who aren’t the least bit willing to shift for themselves, yet feel quite strongly, that men, like my father, owe them something.”

“What did you do?”

“I told Dowd I was willing to pay them reasonable compensation for the damage done to their fences and the stock they lost,” Adam replied. “But, I didn’t think three thousand dollars was reasonable. I finally told him payment would have to wait until I could ride up to their place and inspect the damage to their property. Dowd insisted that I pay him three thousand dollars right then and there. I finally told him and the two the men with him to get off the Ponderosa, or I’d press charges for trespass.”

“What happened then?”

“Dowd and his buddies bushwhacked Hoss on his way back,” Adam replied. “They stole Joe’s medicine and tried to hold it for ransom. To say I was feeling overwhelmed that night would be the understatement of the century! I even went so far as to promise myself that once everything was over, and Joe was out of danger, I would pack my bags and make tracks back east where things are supposedly more civilized.”

“But . . . you didn’t,” Peggy observed quietly.

“No,” Adam said quietly. “I didn’t leave, because I learned two very important lessons that night. The first was the importance of having other people . . . family, friends, caring strangers like the Reardons . . . around to lend a hand during times of trouble. No one’s an island, Peggy. Sooner or later, we all need each other, and I think that’s the way it’s meant to be.”

“What was the other lesson you learned that night, Adam?”

“The other lesson I learned that night was the most important lesson I’ve ever had to learn in my whole life,” Adam said quietly. “I learned that no matter what happens, no matter how bad things get, I CAN muster the strength, the courage, whatever I need, to help me through. All of us have that inside us, Peggy.”

“What about my mother?” Peggy asked with a touch of rancor. “She was so fragile . . . so helpless and frightened, she couldn’t even bring herself to tell me that my father had died, at first. She told me he was off on a long trip somewhere, and that someday, he would come back . . . but, I knew, Adam. I think I knew from the start that he was dead, and she was deliberately lying to me.”

“Peggy, you’re NOT like your mother,” Adam said firmly. “You had a lot of spunk and plenty of guts when you were little. Remember the first time you fell off of Traveler?”

“Do I ever!”

She saw her mother wringing her hands and weeping piteously, begging Adam to please, pretty please take back that pony. He was too dangerous, her pretty little Peggy could get hurt.

Adam, meanwhile, struggled desperately to keep hold of her long enough to check her over for broken bones or other serious injuries. She angrily shook him off with such force . . . she could see the shocked look on his face clearly, even now.

Before either Adam or her mother could think of making a move to stop her, she walked over toward Traveler, now placidly grazing, with her back straight and chin set with grim, stubborn determination. In less than a heartbeat, she was back in the saddle, urging Traveler to a fast gallop.

“Traveler and I made it all the way out to the road before you caught up with us,” she remembered with a smile.

“You had me scared to death, Young Lady.”

“I’m sorry, Adam.”

“No, you’re not! You’re just as pleased with yourself now as you were then . . . and you SHOULD be. Getting back up on Traveler took a lot of guts and a lot of courage.”

“Yeah . . . I think I can see that.”

“You still have that kind of courage,” Adam insisted. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“I . . . I don’t know, Adam,” Peggy shook her head morosely. “I’m not a little kid learning to ride a pony any more.”

“Maybe not, but you ARE a grown woman . . . expecting a little kid of her own . . . who’s recently decided to leave an abusive husband and found within herself the wherewithal to ACT on that decision.”

“That wasn’t courage, that was fear. I left because I was afraid he’d kill me and my unborn child.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Adam said. “Another way to look at it is fear for your life and the life of your unborn child gave you the courage to leave a bad situation you know, and step out into something completely unknown.”

“I . . . I never thought of it THAT way.”

“A lot of people choose to stay in dangerous situations, like the one you just left, because it’s something familiar . . . something they KNOW. Thank God, you found the wherewithal to leave.”

Peggy set the tray of empty dishes aside, then leaned over and gave Adam a big hug. “Thank you, Adam,” she said quietly. “Thank you for everything, especially for . . . well, for being there.”

“I’m thankful I CAN be there for you, Peggy.”

“Do you think Hop Sing would get upset if I asked for seconds?” Peggy asked, as they separated. “I’m STILL frightfully hungry and the toast seems to be staying down alright.”

“Peggy . . . . ” Adam rose, then leaned over and picked up the tray, “Hop Sing’s not going to be the least bit upset about you wanting seconds. In fact . . . .” he grinned, “ . . . I think he’s going to be the happiest man in the entire State of Nevada.”

“ON YOUR MARK . . . . ” Candy yelled at the top of his lungs.

Ben Cartwright, returning home from Virginia City, eased his own mount, Buck to a stop. Up ahead, one maybe two tenths of a mile, he spotted Candy on his favorite steed, Thor, a large, well muscled brown, standing in the meadow, just off the side of the road.

“GET SET . . . . ”

Joe Cartwright, seated atop Bonnie Prince Charlie, and Stacy Cartwright, on Sun Dancer stood side by side on the road itself, a little behind Candy’s position. In the far distance, nearly half a mile from his own position, Ben spotted Hoss.

Candy raised his gun and squeezed the trigger.

Joe and Stacy eagerly urged their horses to a fast gallop, before the last echoes of Candy’s gunfire were swallowed up by the thunder of hooves, pounding against the hard packed dirt road. Joe and Bonnie Prince Charlie immediately pulled ahead. Stacy and Sun Dancer kept to the pace, but made no attempt to pass.

With both eyes glued to the rapidly retreating backs of his two younger children, Ben quietly urged Big Buck on.

“Hey, Mister Cartwright!” Candy greeted him with a broad smile and wave as he approached.

“I thought you and Hoss told me Sun Dancer had Bonnie Prince Charlie eating his dust,” Ben said, as he drew Big Buck along side Candy and Thor.

“Keep watching, Sir. This race just got started.”

Ben silently watched as Joe and Stacy covered a third, then half the distance between the starting point and the place up ahead, where Hoss stood marking the finish line. Joe and Bonnie Prince Charlie edged ahead slightly. Stacy and Sun Dancer maintained their pace.

A few moments later, Joe and the Bonnie Prince reached and passed the three quarter mark. Stacy and Sun Dancer suddenly started gaining in speed, closing in on their competition with each step. At roughly fifteen yards from the finish line, Stacy and Sun Dancer drew along side Joe and Bonnie Prince Charlie. Less than a heartbeat later, the former began to move past the latter, beating a straight path toward the finish line. At Joe’s urging the Bonnie Prince increased his speed. But it was all to no avail. Stacy and Sun Dancer crossed the finish line a good three and a half lengths ahead of their opponents.

Up ahead, Hoss glanced down at the pocket watch in his hand, then let out a wild, joyous whoop.

“Come on, Mister Cartwright. From the sound of things I’d say Sun Dancer just beat his own record . . . again.”

Ben and Candy rode together to the place where Hoss stood waiting.

“Hey, Pa, didja see?”

“I sure did,” Ben replied. “For a minute there I thought sure you and Candy had, well, let’s just say I was beginning to think Sun Dancer’s speed and power were somewhat exaggerated?!”

“Part of our strategy, Pa,” Hoss explained. “Stacy ‘n Sun Dancer’ll keep pace with Mister Wilson’s General Ulysses, then . . . as they’re running down the home stretch, the two of ‘em pull ahead ‘n win the race.”

“How well did Sun Dancer do, Hoss?” Candy asked.

“He done shaved five seconds off his record,” Hoss replied.

“Where’s your brother and sister?” Ben asked.

“They’re headin’ on back to the barn,” Hoss replied. “They’ll cool down their horses as they go.” He quickly climbed onto the back of his own horse, Chubb. “So how’d things go in Virginia City, Pa?”

The smile on Ben’s face faded. “I spoke to Mister Milburn briefly, Hoss. He’s going to do some checking and come out tomorrow afternoon sometime, but . . . I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

“How so, Pa?”

“We’ll talk later at home, Son.”

“Sure, Pa. How ‘bout the telegram?”

“Sheriff Coffee’s going to wire the police department in San Francisco and the sheriff over in Placerville about the van Slyke family,” Ben said grimly. “Roy suggested doing it that way to give matters the appearance of being official, as opposed to private . . . and, for the time being at least, I agree with him completely.”

Hoss silently studied his father’s face, noting the pallid complexion, how the lines and creases seemed more deeply etched than usual, and the eyes, round and staring. “Pa, this is real serious business we’re lookin’ at, ain’t it.” It was a quiet, straightforward statement of fact, not a question.

Ben quietly shared with Hoss some of the things Doctor Martin had shared with him yesterday morning.

Hoss, his face pale and knees trembling, draped one arm over Chubb’s saddle and held on for support. His pale blue eyes were unusually bright. “My G-God, Pa.”

“That’s why Roy suggested that I let HIM handle the correspondence,” Ben said gravely, “to keep our involvement and hopefully Peggy’s whereabouts under wraps. Any man capable of . . . of physically beating up a pregnant woman is capable of just about anything.”

“Teresa?”

Teresa turned from the guestroom window and smiled down at the young woman lying on the bed. “Yes, Peggy?”

“All last night and for a good bit of this morning, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Peggy said in a small, quiet, voice.

“And?”

“I’m feeling lots better now. I’m not feeling dizzy anymore . . . and though I felt a little sick this morning, it was nowhere near as bad, as it was . . . . ”

Teresa turned from the window and pulled up a chair beside the bed. “What are you trying to say?” she asked, cutting through to the heart of the matter.

“I guess I’m trying to say that I’m well enough to . . . well, to leave.”

“Where would you go?”

“Far away from here . . . from Virginia City . . . from the Ponderosa . . . from you, Adam, Uncle Ben and everyone else.” Peggy averted her eyes away from Teresa’s face and fixed them on her hands folded in front of her on the quilt. “Please, it’s not that I’m NOT grateful, because I am, more than I can say . . . . ”

“Then why are you so anxious to leave?” Teresa prodded gently.

Peggy swallowed, and forced herself to look up and meet Teresa’s gentle, yet penetrating gaze. “I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

“What makes you think anyone’s going to get hurt?”

“How can you possibly ask me that, Teresa? I saw the doctor’s face yesterday, after he had finished examining me,” Peggy said morosely. “He knows, or at the very least has a good idea of what Brett’s capable of doing. He had to have told you.”

“He told Ben,” Teresa said quietly, “and Ben, in turn, shared with Adam and me.”

“Then you know full well I’m putting all of you in terrible danger by being here.”

“Does Brett know you’re here?”

“I didn’t tell him, or anyone else for that matter, where I was headed when I left his birthday celebration that night. To tell you the honest truth, I wasn’t sure where I was going either, when I started out. I just knew I had to get away. I didn’t even THINK of the Ponderosa until I was on that steamboat half way across the lake.”

“Has Brett ever met any of the family?”

Peggy shook her head.

“Then maybe he won’t even know to look here.”

“By himself, no! He wouldn’t know to look here. The problem is my mother and Aunt Lil. Sooner or later, they WILL think to look here.”

The unspoken implications shook Teresa to the very core of her being.

“Yes, Teresa, yes. Sooner or later, they WILL tell Brett to look here,” Peggy correctly interpreted the stunned look on Teresa’s face. “Aunt Lil will, anyway. As for Mother . . . . ” she sighed and shrugged her shoulders, “. . . these days, when Aunt Lil says jump, Mother asks how high.”

How could Peggy’s mother betray her so cruelly? Teresa knew beyond doubt that Peggy spoke the truth, by the set of her face and the sadness in her eyes. She also know beyond doubt that if her own daughter, Dio, ever married someone abusive like Brett, she would do her level best to kill him herself the first time he raised his hand against her. Assuming, of course, Adam didn’t get there first.

“Teresa?” Peggy ventured, hesitant to disturb the reverie into which Teresa had lapsed. “Please . . . don’t think too harshly of Mother. She can’t help being the way she is.”

“I’ll do my best,” Teresa promised reluctantly, “on the condition that YOU don’t talk anymore about leaving . . . at least until we get matters cleared up.”

Peggy opened her mouth to protest.

“Please, Peggy, hear me out,” Teresa gently, yet very effectively cut off any and all protests before Peggy could give them utterance. “To say that Brett is a man capable of terrible violence is to grossly understate the matter. We know that. We also know that if . . . or WHEN he finds out you’re here, he’s more than likely going to come after you. To understate the situation once again, there will be a lot of trouble, if he does come.”

“How can you say that so calmly?” Peggy’s voice shook.

“Because I know you’re safer HERE than you would be anywhere else,” Teresa said firmly. “Ben Cartwright, his sons . . . all THREE of them . . . Hop Sing, and Stacy in the time she’s been part of the family, have not only faced any trouble that comes their way head on, but they’ve actually taken on a lot that lesser men and women wouldn’t touch because they believe in fairness and justice for EVERYONE, not just the privileged few. That takes a lot of love, strength, courage, and outright cussed stubbornness, to quote Hoss.

“Ben, his sons, daughter, and Hop Sing are all pretty adept at handling rifles, if things should come to that. There’s also about fifty or sixty ranch hands working here right now. Most, if not ALL of them would take up arms in defense of the Cartwrights, the Ponderosa . . . and by extension, YOU, in a heartbeat. Brett would either have to be stupid or insane to even THINK of trying something.”

“Theresa, that’s just it! Brett IS insane!” Suddenly, her entire body tensed. She turned toward the window, ears straining. “Teresa?”

“Yes?”

“ . . . I think I hear horses.”

“That’s probably Ben and the others returning.”

Out in the living room, seated in the blue chair next to the fireplace, Adam’s sharp ears had also picked up the sound of approaching horses. He placed his bookmark in between the pages, then snapped his book shut. “Teresa?”

Teresa stepped put of the guest room, noiselessly closing the door behind her. “Yes, Adam?”

Adam placed his book on the coffee table and rose. “Stay close to Peggy,” he said as he made his way across the room toward the front door. “I’m going to step outside and see who that is.”

“Adam?”

“Yes?”

“Please be careful.”

“Always.”

Teresa quietly stepped back into the guest room, closing the door behind her.

Less than half dozen steps taken at a brisk stride brought Adam to the front door. He quickly slipped on his gun belt and holster, then stepped outside.

“Hey, Kid, how’s about a friendly game of penny ante checkers after we stable the horses and get ourselves cleaned up?” Joe invited as he and Stacy entered the front yard walking Bonnie Prince Charlie and Sun Dancer respectively.

“No thanks, Grandpa,” Stacy immediately declined.

“Whatsa matter? You chicken?”

“Ask me again when my allowance is reinstated. Mucking out the stalls for the next month of Sundays is about all I can handle. I don’t wanna try for TWO.”

“Bwww-wwaaaak, bwak, bwak, bwak!” Joe squawked, flapping his free arm like a wing.

“Bwak, bwak, bwak, bwak, yourself! I don’t exactly hear you asking me AFTER my allowance has been reinstated.”

Unable to quite keep back the smile, Joe thumbed his nose at her.

Stacy responded by sticking out her tongue.

“Hey, Adam!” Joe turned and waved to their oldest brother standing on the porch. His eyes dropped to the holster and gun strapped around Adam’s waist. “I hope you’re not expecting company . . . . ”

Adam cast a furtive glance over his shoulder, then stepped off the porch and crossed the yard on an intercept course with his youngest brother and sister. “Actually, I’m not quite sure what to expect in the way of company,” he said, upon catching up to and falling in step along side them.

“Well, if that’s how you greet your friends, Adam, I’d hate to see--- ”

“Grandpa, I don’t think Adam’s kidding,” Stacy said noting the mouth set in a grim straight line and the jaw determinedly set.

“Whaddya mean . . . . ”

“Keep your voice down, Little Brother,” Adam said in a quiet, yet very firm tone. “I don’t want to upset Peggy, but the two of YOU need to be aware that sooner or later her husband of hers is going to start looking for her, if he hasn’t already.”

“So?” Joe queried.

“Little Brother,” Adam said with subtle emphasis on ‘Little,’ “this man, and I use that term very loosely, is capable of harming, maybe even killing the mother of his unborn child. If he finds out she’s HERE . . . . ”

“All right, Adam, I get the picture,” Joe snapped.

“Stacy, maybe you’d better keep closer to home until . . . . ”

“Don’t you worry none about our little sister here, Adam,” Joe stoutly took up for her. “The Kid’s well able to take care of herself, thank you very much. Pa, Hoss, Candy, AND I have seen to that . . . not to mention her Paiute family.”

Adam, much to his surprise, found himself inwardly bristling at the obvious omission. “You didn’t happen to see Pa while you were out, did you?”

His older brother’s clipped words and terse tone of voice brought an angry scowl to Joe’s face. “I thought I saw him coming . . . . ”

“You did?” Stacy looked over at Joe in mild surprise.

“Yeah. It was right after Candy fired the gun to start,” Joe said, addressing his sister in a kindlier tone. “YOU would’ve have your mind on Sun Dancer.”

“True,” Stacy agreed, leaving her oldest brother to wonder at how much truth lay behind Joe’s assurances as to how well she could fend for herself.

“At any rate, Adam . . . Hoss and Candy were coming in behind us,” Joe said in a tone that dripped icicles. “If that WAS Pa I saw back there on the road, he’ll probably be with them. Come on, Stacy, we’d better see to the Bonnie Prince here and Sun Dancer.”

Adam stood on the porch, arms folded across his chest, watching their retreating backs for a moment. Focusing all his attention on his sister, he unfolded his arms, slowly lowering the gun hand down next to his holster. He extended his first finger and thumb, loosely curling the other three fingers up next to his palm. “Oh, Stacy . . . . ”

“Bang, Adam, you’re dead!” Stacy stood facing Adam, with her thumb pointed up, first finger aimed dead on at his heart. She had pivoted and “drawn” on him so fast, he never even saw it coming, despite having his own eyes trained on her the entire time. Had Stacy been a gunslinger and her hand the gun it so aptly mimicked . . . .

Adam shuddered.

“Toldja so, Oldest Brother!” Joe quipped, the better portion of his good humor restored.

“Y-Yes, you most certainly DID,” Adam agreed soberly.

“Come on, Little Sister, we’d better see to the horses.”

A few moments later, Ben, Hoss, and Candy rode into the yard. All three of them were grinning broadly.

“Hey, Adam, where’d the babies of the family git themselves off to?” Hoss called out to his older brother, still standing out on the porch, staring after the path Stacy and Joe had taken to the barn.

“They’re . . . in the barn, seeing to the horses . . . . ” Adam replied in a hallow voice.

Hoss took Buck’s reins from his father, then accompanied Candy and horses into the barn.

“What’s the matter, Son?” Ben asked, as he stepped up onto the porch. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Pa . . . d-do you realize . . . Stacy’s . . . I think sh-she just may be faster than J-Joe was . . . at the same age!” Adam still had difficulty believing it.

“Yes, we’ve ALL taught her very well,” Ben said as they entered the house. He frowned. “I hope she didn’t put you up to any wagering . . . . ”

Adam shook his head, and smiled. “No, nothing like THAT, Pa.” He recounted the conversation he had with Joe and Stacy upon their return, and the subsequent showdown. “I never even saw her move.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I won’t let her carry a loaded gun yet,” Ben said soberly. “To be quick is a fine thing, Adam, and for many it’s meant the difference between life and death. One the other hand, it’s NOT good to be so quick you don’t leave yourself time to think about what you’re doing, and the repercussions.”

“That was one of the first things you told me back when I was learning how to handle a gun. As I recall, I was feeling a mite frustrated because of my slow timing.”

Ben smiled, remembering. “That was something I only had to tell you and Hoss ONCE,” he said as they stepped through the front door. “With Joe, I think ALL of us . . . you, me, AND Hoss . . . had to remind him on at least a dozen occasions---”

“ONLY a dozen?” Adam queried, with a bare hint of an amused smile tugging hard at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s when I stopped counting,” Ben replied.

“ . . . and Stacy?”

“I’ve have been and still AM reminding her of that.”

“Did you get that telegram sent?” Adam lowered his voice as they stepped into the house.

Ben nodded. “Roy sent two, one to San Francisco and one to Placerville. HIS idea. How have things been here?”

“Quiet.”

Ben suddenly paused mid-stride. “Someone’s coming.” He immediately turned and went back outside, with his oldest son following close at his heels. On the other side of the yard he saw the barn door open, and Hoss stepping out. Ben furiously gestured for him to get back into the barn, and hopefully keep Joe and Stacy there as well. Hoss nodded, and stepped back inside the barn, pulling the door to behind him.

“Hoss? What’s going on?” Joe demanded sotto voce.

“Maybe nothin’,” Hoss said grimly, lifting his gun from his holster. “But, just in case . . . how ‘bout YOU goin’ up in the loft ‘n keepin’ watch out that window up there. Stay outta sight, an’ DON’T fire, unless I do.”

Joe nodded curtly and set off.

“Li’l Sister, you take cover right here behind me, ‘n jus’ stay put.”

“Is that . . . Peggy’s husband?” Stacy asked, her voice barely audible.

“I don’t know,” Hoss replied, “but we ain’t takin’ any chances neither!”

Out in the yard, a black buggy pulled up, drawn by a single brown horse.

The driver was an old woman, attired in a bright, cherry red traveling suit. A mop of blonde ringlets framed a rounded face, with sagging jowls and chin line. Her lips and long, almond shaped nails matched the color of her outfit. Her rouge, powder, and foundation had been carefully, painstakingly applied. But, not even the best of cosmetics could erase the deep furrows in her forehead, locked into a perpetual, angry frown, or the tiny lines radiating away from ruby lips, unhappily pursed together.

The passenger, taller than the driver and heavier through the middle, leaned back into the deep shadows underneath the roof of the buggy. Though her face was completely obscured by shadow, two fine cascades of dusty blonde curls, flanking either side of her neck, spilled into the sunlight and fell across her chest. She wore a light blue traveling suit, stylish, and as well made as the red one worn by the driver.

“Well hello, Ben!” The driver greeted the Cartwright clan patriarch with a cold, mirthless smile. “Long time no see.”

“Hello, Lil.” Ben noted that she had lost a considerable amount of weight in the years since he had last seen her. Even so, she still remained a buxom, fine figured woman. Her eyes, the same pale blue color as those of his second son, Hoss, held no warmth. They seemed to glint like cold, hard steel in the warm late afternoon sunlight. He peered into the depths of the shadow inside the buggy, seeking the lines of the passenger’s face, concealed within. “Laura? Is that you?”

“Y-yes, Ben,” she replied in a small, timid voice. She leaned back hard against the seat, in an almost desperate attempt to escape the sunlight and the prying eyes of the Cartwright family, surrounding her on all sides. “H-hello.”

“Laura?!” Adam stepped down off the porch and walked around to the passenger’s side of the buggy.

Laura leaned forward into the sunlight, her eyes round with shock, her mouth hanging open. “A-Adam?!”

“This is quite a surprise,” Adam said, striving to keep his tone even. Laura’s appearance shocked him. She seemed to have gained every last ounce of weight Aunt Lil had lost, and maybe a few pounds more. Her blonde hair, laced generously with strands of silver, had been pulled back severely away from her face, accentuating its bloated roundness. Laura’s upper lip and eyelids were red and swollen.

“I . . . I’d heard you were living in Sacramento,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“I do, with my wife and two children,” Adam replied. “We, Teresa and I, are here visiting.”

“How nice.”

“I’m afraid we can’t stay long,” Lil announced, her light, bouncy voice a disturbing contrast to the steel in her eyes and the grim, determined set of her lower jaw. “Laura and I’ve come to pick up our wayward li’l gal.”

“What wayward little gal?” Ben asked with a frown.

“Peggy, of course! We’ve ALL been worried sick since she up and vanished into thin air right after Brett’s birthday bash, four nights ago, now,” Lil rambled on.

“Lil, what makes you think Peggy’s HERE?” Adam asked in a bland, almost bored sounding tone of voice.

“Where ELSE would she go?” Lil growled.

“Why any number of places,” Adam returned without missing a beat.

“Adam Cartwright, I don’t know what kind of an idiot you take me for . . . . ” Lil turned and vented the rage and fear that had grown inside her since Peggy’s disappearance.

“THAT’S a loaded question,” Adam observed wryly.

Lil closed her eyes and forced herself to take deep even breaths. At length, she slowly opened them, and smiled brightly. There was no warmth in her smile, and none of its brightness touched the dark, brooding intensity in her unwavering, lizard like gaze. “Ben,” she pointedly turned to appeal to the clan patriarch, “surely we can settle this like mature adults, without all this inane baiting and innuendo. I don’t know what Peggy’s told you . . . . ”

Ben, with arms folded across his chest, said nothing.

Lil was momentarily taken aback by Ben’s silence. “Yes, well . . . to, umm, bring you up on all our family news, Peggy’s married to a wonderful, kind, and generous man.”

“I suppose congratulations are in order.” It took every ounce of will Ben possessed to keep his tone neutral.

“Ben, Peggy’s pregnant now with their first child,” Lil blithely rambled on. “Surely, you know how pregnant ladies are, having been married three times yourself.”

“It’s been a number of years now, Lil,” Ben said. “Why don’t you refresh my memory?”

Lil inwardly bristled against the faint condescending element she heard in his voice. She took another breath, deep, slow, and even. “Pregnant ladies tend to be very emotional, given to hysterics.” She turned to Adam. “I understand YOU’RE married now, with a couple of kids. Surely YOU know what I’m talking about . . . . ”

“Can’t say as I DO, Lil,” Adam said with a bewildered frown. “We were both happy and delighted when we learned she was pregnant, of course, but on the whole, through out BOTH pregnancies, my wife was very cool, calm, and collected.”

“Lil, . . . and YOU, too, Laura, it’s been an unexpected surprise seeing you again, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our visit short,” Ben said in a quiet, yet very firm tone.

“Y-you’re not going to invite us in?”

“I would, but I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Ben said, not missing a beat.

Lil’s smile suddenly vanished, and with it all pretense of courtesy and pleasantness. “We’re NOT leaving without Peggy.”

“I’m still at a loss to understand why you keep insisting Peggy is HERE,” Ben said. “If I happen to see her, I’ll certainly be more than happy to let her know that you and Laura are looking for her.”

“I SAID Laura and I are NOT leaving without Peggy.”

“Lil, the Ponderosa IS private property,” Ben hastened to remind her, “and both you and Laura have overstayed your welcome. If the two of you AREN’T on your way by the time I count five . . . . ”

“The Ponderosa may belong to YOU, Ben, but Peggy belongs to her husband, who happens to be very worried about her. Laura and I are not leaving until you fetch her out.”

“If the two of you aren’t on your way by the time I count five, I’ll take you into Virginia City myself and have you both jailed for trespassing,” Ben said, his voice tight with anger. “One . . . . ”

“Ben, please . . . . ” Laura begged, with tears streaming down her face. “Peggy’s got to come back with us, she simply must.”

“Two . . . . ”

“Y-you don’t understand . . . . ” Laura sobbed. “You . . . you just don’t understand.”

“Three!” Ben said tersely. “I trust you both know the way back to the main road!”

“All right!” Lil snarled. “We’ll go . . . for NOW! But this conversation ain’t over, MISTER Cartwright. Not by a long shot!” With that, she angrily whipped her horse into a gallop and sped off.

Adam stood on the porch beside his father, waiting until their buggy disappeared from sight behind the barn, and for the sounds of horse hooves to finally fade to silence. He, then, turned and went back inside. A few steps, less than half a dozen brought him face to face with the closed door to the downstairs guest room.

He knocked.

“Come in,” Teresa invited.

Upon entering the room, his eyes fell on Peggy’s face first, her complexion pale and her enormous blue eyes filled with hopeless despair. “They’ve found me, Adam! Dear God, they’ve found me!” She buried her face in her hands and wept.

Teresa immediately slipped her arms around Peggy’s heaving shoulders and held her close. “We heard everything you said out there, Adam,” Teresa said, her voice taut with her own growing anger. “Word for word.”

Adam nodded, understanding. He quietly pulled up a chair next to the other side of the bed. When, at length, her tears abated, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “Peggy?”

“Y-yes, Adam?”

“I won’t lie to you,” he said quietly. “Lil and your mother have their suspicions, and Lil, at least, knows her suspicions are well founded, but that’s all they have. They have no concrete proof whatsoever that you’re here.”

“But, they KNOW, Adam . . . and they’re going to tell Brett.”

“More than likely,” Adam reluctantly had to agree. “Even so, you’re STILL safer here on the Ponderosa than you would be anywhere else. Pa, Teresa, my brothers, sister, Hop Sing, and I will ALL see to that.”

“Hey, Pa . . . . ” Hoss called to his father, as he emerged from the barn. His younger brother and sister followed at his heels, both looking grim. “Who was that?” He inclined his head in the direction of the rapidly departing buggy.

“Laura Dayton and her aunt, Lil Manfred,” Ben muttered through clenched teeth.

“Dadburn it! They know where she is now!”

“Surely they’re not going to go back and tell Peggy’s husband,” Stacy protested. “Not after what that . . . **** ” The word was Paiute, a vile word bordering on obscenity for a bully and coward. “ . . . did to her.”

“I’m afraid they ARE going to tell Peggy’s husband, Stacy,” Ben said.

“How COULD they?” Stacy demanded, outraged. The very idea was beyond her imagining.

“I’d like to know the answer to that one myself,” Ben said.

“So what do we do now, Pa?” Joe asked.

“What exactly did Mister Milburn say when you talked with HIM this mornin’?” Hoss asked. “You said earlier that he didn’t have good news for us.”

“We all need to sit down and talk about that,” Ben said grimly. “Sooner, rather than later.”

“How soon, Pa?” Hoss pressed.

“After I talk with Peggy.”

Brett van Slyke angrily, relentlessly paced the floor of his hotel suite, pausing more and more often, to guzzle the dark amber contents of the whiskey bottle in hand. The room, though luxurious and posh by the standards of Placerville, California, stood a poor contrast against the comfort to which he was well accustomed in San Francisco. His father had ordered him to come here, to this hellhole lying on the outer edge of nowhere, supposedly to check on the family holdings and investments in the area. Both he and his father knew full well that a wire from San Francisco, making appropriate inquiries, would have been sufficient.

The real reason he was here had to do with that slut who used to sing at the Barbary Palace Saloon, down near the docks. She was a real pretty thing, with those warm brown eyes and that thick mane of dark brown curls all around her face and neck. She was warm in so many other ways, too. The memory of holding her tight in his arms that last time, her round, soft, voluptuous body pressed close, and the way she moved was nothing less than pure, absolute rapture.

All he did, all he ever wanted to do that night was be nice to her. Why did she have to hurt him?

The loud insistent pounding on the door to his room rudely jolted him from the mists of reverie back to present time and place, leaving him disoriented. For a long moment, Brett stood, unmoving, staring dully at his surroundings.

“Mister van Slyke?” a deep masculine voice called from with out. “Mister van Slyke, you in there?”

Brett vigorously shook his head, as if to physically dislodge his stupefaction.

The man outside pounded on the door again, louder this time, more insistent.

“Come in, it’s open!” Brett ordered.

It was Lark Meredith, the troubleshooter hired by his father to keep an eye on things, and on him. Though he was only a few years Brett van Slyke’s senior, the deeply etched lines in his weary, careworn face, and his slightly stooped posture, lent him the appearance of a man much older. “Just got a wire from Jake,” Lark reported in a crisp, business like tone. “He’s been keeping a sharp eye on Mrs. Dayton and Mrs. Manfred since they arrived in Virginia City this morning.”

“And?!”

“After they got off the stage, the checked into the International Hotel,” Lark reported. “They had a late breakfast, did a little shopping, then hired a buggy from the livery stable and went out to the Ponderosa.”

Brett took another swig from the bottle in hand, then wiped his mouth across his sleeve. “What’s this Pon-de-RO-sa?” he demanded, enunciating each syllabic divide.

“It’s an enormous spread, located just the other side of Lake Tahoe, owned by a man named Ben Cartwright,” Lark replied. “Mrs. Dayton and your wife knew the Cartwrights very well when they lived outside of Virginia City.”

“Oh? How WELL did they know these Cartwrights?” Brett demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Mrs. Dayton was engaged the Ben Cartwright’s oldest son briefly.”

“Isn’t THAT very interesting.”

“Indeed. According to Jake’s report, Mrs. Manfred and Mrs. Dayton rode out to the Ponderosa demanding that Mrs. van Slyke leave with them. The Cartwrights denied that she was even there. Jake, however, strongly believes otherwise.”

“Did Jake actually see her?”

“No.”

“Then how can Jake be so sure she’s there?”

“The plain and simple truth is, Mrs. van Slyke had no where else to go.”

“Then why didn’t Jake fetch her back?” Brett demanded peevishly.

“Because Jake’s orders were to follow Mrs. Dayton and Mrs. Manfred, and let ME know if they led him to your wife,” Lark replied.

“He should’ve fetched her back!”

“Jake did some other checking on the Cartwrights, too, Mister van Slyke,” Lark said tersely. “None of ‘em are what you’d call pushovers. They’ve stood up to men every bit as rich and powerful as your father . . . and WON. Furthermore, this Ben Cartwright has about fifty men working for him, all of ‘em proficient in handling a rifle.”

“So?”

“So storming the Cartwright abode is out of the question.”

“Why?” Brett demanded petulantly. “I have men.”

“Your FATHER has men. You’ve got a less than a dozen of ‘em here with you, and half o’ THEM are accountants who wouldn’t know the difference between the barrel and butt ends of a rifle.”

“OK, we buy the Cartwrights off.”

“I’m afraid NOT,” Lark shook his head. “It seems the Cartwrights number among that rare breed of men who value things like honesty, justice, and fair play much more than they value money.”

“I want her back, Meredith. I want my wife back with me RIGHT NOW.”

“We’re going to get her back, but we’re going to do it MY way. Your father’s got enough trouble to straighten out in San Francisco as it is. The last thing he needs right now is to have trouble start up HERE.”

“Trouble’s already started, Lark. Peggy’s gone. Slipped right through my fingers during that party the other night . . . . ” He turned and favored Lark with a nasty grin. “ . . . and she slipped right through YOURS, too. Papa’s not gonna be real thrilled to hear THAT, either.”

“I SAID we will do this MY way.”

“Ok, fine! You’ve got three days to do this YOUR way, Meredith. Three days! After that, I get Peggy back MY way . . . like I did Miss Rosie O’Malley.”

Lark blanched. He stood as if rooted to the spot staring over at his employer’s son in shocked horror, too stunned to speak.

“That’s all, Meredith, you may go,” Brett said in an insultingly dismissive tone.

“N-now you listen to me and you listen GOOD, you . . . you spoiled little punk . . . .” Lark growled as his initial shock gave way to rising anger.

“I TOLD you to get out!” Brett’s entire body began to tremble. His fingers stiffened then curled into a pair of tight, rock hard fists. His eyes stretched to their absolute limits of wide roundness, before abruptly narrowing into a pair of narrow slits. His face was beet red, and strangely contorted. “GET OUT!” His voice rose alarmingly in volume, bordering at the very edge of hysteria. “GET OUT, GET OUT, GET. OUT!”

Alarmed and shaken, Lark wordlessly moved toward the door backwards, never once taking his eyes away from Brett.

Ben stepped up to the closed door of the downstairs guestroom, and knocked softly.

“Come in,” Peggy responded.

Ben opened the door and stepped into the room. He found Peggy lying in the bed, propped up by a couple of large, fluffy pillows. Adam and Teresa were with her, each occupying chairs pulled up on either side of the bed. Ben immediately took note of Peggy’s reddened cheeks, her swollen eyelids and upper lip, and eyes, glistening with unusual brightness. “You heard?” he queried, inclining his head toward the window, and the outdoors beyond.

“Y-yes, Uncle Ben. Teresa and I heard everything,” Peggy replied in as stead a voice as she could muster.

“Pa, what did Mister Milburn say when you spoke with him this morning?” Adam asked.

Ben turned toward Peggy. She returned his gaze, her bright blue eyes meeting his dark ones without flinching. “Peggy, Mister Milburn tells me it’s possible for you to divorce your husband on grounds of cruelty.”

“What do I need to do?” Peggy asked.

“You’ll need to petition for divorce,” Ben replied. “You’ll also need to establish proof. I didn’t talk to Doctor Martin . . . he’s the one who came out and saw you the other day, but I’m reasonably certain he’ll agree to provide testimony. But, you’re going to need OTHER witnesses.”

“I . . . I was afraid of this . . . . ” Peggy’s eyelids blinked excessively, as she bowed her head.

Adam automatically reached over, and gave Peggy’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Pa,” he said, looking up at Ben, “Doctor Martin’s a very fine doctor with impeccable credentials. Why do we need other witnesses?”

“Because the Martins are also very good friends of ours, and have been for many years now,” Ben replied. “If Peggy’s husband decides to contest her petition for divorce, his lawyer will move to discredit, maybe even bar Doctor Martin’s testimony on the grounds that our friendship may have unduly influenced him.”

“Peggy, is there anyone else who would be willing to testify on your behalf?” Teresa prodded gently. “Anyone at all?”

“The servants in our home in San Francisco have seen and heard everything,” Peggy said bitterly. “It would have been impossible for them NOT to! But, unfortunately for ME, Brett’s father pays their salaries. If they say anything at all, it’ll be whatever HE tells them to say.”

“I think we all know for fact we can’t count on Lil Manfred to defend Peggy,” Adam added with a touch of rancor, “and from what I saw, she has poor Laura so cowed, we can’t count on her either.”

“Peggy, do you have any friends who would be willing to speak up for you?” Teresa asked.

Peggy shook her head dolefully. “I have no friends, not anymore. For the better part of the last year, Brett’s not allowed me to see anyone, except for Mother, Aunt Lil, and . . . Doctor Phillips!!!”

“You’ve been seeing him since you found out you were pregnant?” Teresa asked.

“Yes! I also went to him when I found out I was pregnant the SECOND time. He can verify that I miscarried because . . . because of Brett’s violence.”

“He’s in San Francisco?” Ben asked.

“Yes,” Peggy replied. “Doctor Forsythe Phillips.”

“I’d better write this down,” Ben said. He quickly excused himself, then went to his desk to fetch pencil and paper. When he returned a moment later, Peggy repeated the doctor’s full name, and supplied the address. “I’ll ride into town first thing in the morning. I’ll speak with Paul Martin, and ask HIM to contact Doctor Phillips. I’ll also make arrangements with Lucas Milburn to come here and meet with you, Peggy, tomorrow if at all possible.”

“Uncle Ben?”

“Yes, Peggy?”

Peggy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her fingers closed tightly around Adam’s hand, resting lightly over her own. She opened her eyes, and forced herself to look Ben straight in the eye. Peggy swallowed, then spoke in as steady a voice as she could muster. “Uncle Ben, what about my baby?”

“I wish I had an answer for you, Peggy,” Ben said ruefully. “If Mister van Slyke has no interest in the child, custody will automatically go to you. On the other hand if he petitions for custody . . . . ”

Peggy gasped, as the blood drained right out of her face. She glanced from Ben, to Adam, to Teresa, then back once more to Ben through eyes round with horror. “Are . . . are you telling m-me . . . Brett c-could take my baby away from me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh Dear God, no!” Peggy moaned, her voice filled with heart wrenching despair.

“Ben, what judge in his right mind would award custody of a child to a . . . to a monster like Brett van Slyke?” Teresa demanded, outraged.

“We have three circuit judges presently,” Ben replied. “Lucas told me earlier that two of them are of the opinion that a child belongs with his or her father. Both feel that fathers are better able to provide financially for their children, and--- ”

He broke off, unwilling to continue.

Adam noted his father’s suddenly ruddy complexion. “Pa, what is it?”

“Those two judges also feel that the . . . morals of a woman petitioning for divorce are . . . are highly suspect,” Ben said reluctantly.

“What about the third judge, Uncle Ben?” Peggy asked in a small, half embarrassed voice.

“He has been known to award custody of the children to the mother if a compelling case can be made for the unfitness of the father to assume responsibility,” Ben replied.

“I can’t let Brett have this baby, I can’t,” Peggy said, her voice breaking.

“Ben, what are Peggy’s chances of getting the judge most likely to be sympathetic to her petitions for divorce and custody of her baby?” Teresa asked.

“Lucas can and will ask that Judge Thompson be appointed to hear the case,” Ben replied. “But there’s no guarantees.”

“Maybe . . . maybe I should just go back,” Peggy murmured, sick with hopeless despair.

“Go back where?” Teresa asked.

“Go back to Brett!”

“Peggy, you CAN’T,” Adam protested in a quiet yet very firm tone.

“Adam, I can’t let this child be turned over to the likes of Brett van Slyke with no one to defend or protect him or her!” Peggy sobbed. “It would be . . . condemning an innocent baby to death, or worse . . . a life time of torture and abuse.”

“Peggy, that’s NOT going to happen,” Adam said grimly, his face set with fierce determination. “My family and I have faced a lot of uphill battles against nearly impossible odds over the years, and we’ve always come out on top. We’re going to find a way to come out on top this time, too.”

Peggy impulsively threw her arms around Adam’s neck, and hugged him tight for a moment. “You . . . you almost make me believe you,” she murmured, her voice unsteady.

“You’d better believe him, Peggy,” Ben said, offering her a smile of encouragement. “After all, Adam here IS the smart one on the family . . . . ”

End of Part 1

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