Summary: Adam joins the Nevada Rangers to help protect Nevadans from violent drifters from the dying Confederate States of America. Note: Although there were no Nevada Rangers, there were Arizona and Texas Rangers, and I modeled the Nevada Rangers after them. James Nye was Nevada’s last territorial governor, immediately preceding its first state governor, Henry Blasdel.
Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Bonanza or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
belauger@msn.com

Safe Harbor

Adam Cartwright smiled to himself, but it was a mirthless smile. He pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck; the black night was getting chilly. His partners were late for their rendezvous. The smile was a self-mocking one. What had he been thinking when he had gotten himself involved in this scheme? Oh yes, his ego. The “honor” of having Nevada’s territorial governor, James Nye, personally requesting his services in securing the safety of their state. And of course, Adam’s noble ideals.

So here he was in Roach, Nevada, a brand spanking new Nevada Ranger, on his first assignment, waiting to meet his as-yet-unknown partners smack dab in the middle of nowhere. A big part of him wanted to head directly back to the Ponderosa, but he couldn’t even do that now. He had accepted this job, and his family had a reputation to live up to. He was stuck in this Godforsaken place, Roach or Toad or Snakebite,-- whatever they called this miserable place at the extreme southwest tip of the state, not far from Death Valley in California. It was desert for as far as the eye could see. Hot during the day, cool at night. Water wherever you were lucky enough to find it; if you found it.

When Governor Nye had contacted Adam, he appealed to him at a vulnerable point in his life. It was 1864 and the Civil War had been a source of tension and antagonism between Adam and Little Joe for four years. Even though they were thousands of miles from where the conflict was taking place, both brothers had strong feelings about what was happening so far east of the Ponderosa. Adam’s New England blood gave him Union sympathies, and Joe’s Southern Creole blood gave him rebel sympathies. And this was true even though Joe had been born in Nevada and Adam and reached the new, pristine territory as a young boy. At one point, Adam had been ready to leave the family simply to silence the arguments between them. Ben Cartwright had tried mightily to keep the war out of their home, and eventually had succeeded, but tensions sometimes roiled below the radar. Both Adam and Joe were passionate about their feelings on the issue of state’s rights. Adam held as sacred the blood that had been shed in the 1770’s in the effort to create the United States and he couldn’t bear to see it torn apart. Joe believed just as strongly that Louisiana or Alabama, for example, should never be told how to conduct their individual affairs as states.

So now, in 1864, the war was winding down. The South was being defeated, steadily pummeled down. The destruction and death toll had been horrific and beyond imagination. Surrender was deemed to be only a short matter of time away. Rebel deserters, changed forever by the hellish battles they had lived through, were heading west. They were leaving behind their scorched homeland and homes that had been burned to ash and cinders. With them they brought rage, shock and bitterness, sometimes war-induced dementia, and lawlessness. Although some drifted alone, others traveled in packs and wreaked havoc on towns and communities that had worked for years to bring a sense of law and order to their newly settled territory, farms and businesses.

Gov. Nye had hastily established the Nevada Rangers, in the tradition of the Texas and Arizona Rangers. He had recruited those considered to be the cream of Nevada’s strongest and best, and Adam’s name had been on that list. His job, along with his cohorts, was to keep Nevadans safe, to rid Nevada of crime and drive the outlaws away. They had been given broad leeway. An elaborate underground communication system had been established so that the Rangers could pass along information and make plans. There was a commander, Col. Sam Wagner, but there were no uniforms and no badges. These particular troops were to blend in with the general populace whenever possible.

Technically, Adam was Sgt. Major Cartwright, but that didn’t mean much of anything to him. And he certainly hoped it stayed that way. He didn’t want to be promoted to any position that put him in charge of plans or rangers. If things became sticky anywhere, he’d rather have someone else calling the shots. He had signed on for a six month stint, but he wasn’t fooling himself. Six months might not even see the end of the Civil War, and until it was over, there would only be a trickle of deserters heading west. In his estimation, it would take at least a year before any significant numbers of ex-soldiers reached the west. And then watch out, he thought.

His thoughts turned from the Rangers to his horse. He was riding a sturdy and serviceable mount, a brown gelding named George. There was no comparison between George and his beautiful horse, Sport, back at the Ponderosa. There was no way he would have brought Sport with him to serve under the conditions he was expecting to encounter. That sleek horse was safe in the barn at home, where his brothers had promised to exercise him until Adam returned home. In the meantime, George would do the job. Lost in horse thoughts, the sound of another horse snorting in the distance caught him by surprise. Adam quickly drew his gun. He was waiting near some scrub brush on the hard dirt surface of the arid desert, outside the town of Roach. Within moments he heard the hoof beats of several horses. They stopped some distance away from him and a match was lit. That was the signal.

“Cartwright?” A voice called out in the inky darkness.

“Yeah. Davis?” He heard the horses move forward toward him. When they were close, someone lit a piece of fatwood that better illuminated the circle of men. There were five, including Adam. One man was missing.

“I’m Rob Davis, these men are Tom Berger, Paul Tucker, and Jay Wellman,” Davis reached out to shake Adam’s hand and the others nodded at him. They weren’t much older than Adam, except maybe Davis, who was the senior man on the team. He looked to be about forty and it appeared that all those years had been spent outdoors. “Sorry we’re late. We left from Barclay early this morning. It’s a rough ride.”

“Where’s Springer?” Adam asked, referring to the last man, Hank Springer.

“Don’t know. He was supposed to meet us here. He should’ve been here by now.”

“I’ve been here about an hour. I didn’t hear anything,” Adam offered.

“Well, we better wait a spell. Better start out on the right foot,” Davis said.

“Why are they starting us in Roach?” This question came from Wellman.

Adam laughed ruefully, “I was wondering the exact same thing.”

“Well, the Arizona Rangers were after a group of deserters in their territory. There was a gunfight and they captured some, but some also got away. The word I got is that they were headed into Nevada, and probably up to Carson City. They were a pretty tough group; did a lot of damage in Arizona, both to people and property. So we’re on their trail as soon as we find Springer.”

“How many are we looking for?” Adam asked.

“The group’s down to about a dozen now,” Davis answered. “On the way to meet you here, we rode through Roach and didn’t see any signs of them, but that was just ridin’ through.”

The newly minted Rangers waited almost another hour, shivering in the night. They didn’t want to light a fire which would notify anyone else in the desert of their presence. When Hank Springer did not appear, Davis finally decided to head back to Roach. It was about a twenty minute ride into the town, which was definitely rolled up and put to bed by the time they got there.

“There’s no inn here, but I did stop by and ask the livery owner if we could bed down in a couple of the empty stalls, and he agreed,” Davis explained, turning his horse down an alley behind the livery. Thus it was that five worn out Nevada Rangers gave their horses a fast rub down before they unrolled their own bedrolls and collapsed in the straw. Adam could not help but think about his bed at home, but it was a fleeting thought, because sleep captured him while he was still thinking about what clean sheets felt like.

Morning came much sooner that it should have, when the livery stable owner arrived and opened up his business. To Adam, it felt like he had just dropped into the hay. He wanted to groan out loud but he didn’t. Neither did the others, but they all looked like Adam felt. Silently they packed up their bedrolls. The stable owner approached them to say there was a café down the street where a hot breakfast was available. This was like a gift since dinner the night before had been tough beef jerky eaten in the saddle. Most of them took time to shave, and then they walked over to the café.

“Well, no one ever said this was going to be a plum job,” Adam commented wryly.

That comment evoked a couple of chuckles. Rob Davis, who had served with the Texas Rangers as a young man, just shook his head. “That it ain’t,” he agreed. “But, you get used to it.”

When they were sitting in the café drinking steaming mugs of coffee, Berger looked at Davis. “So why’d you stick it out? The pay’s bad, the conditions are worse, and chances are you’ll get shot or even die.”

Davis moved his coffee from where he had been steadily feeding it into his mouth. “Every Ranger everywhere fundamentally has a cast iron sense of right and wrong. And somewhere inside he can’t live with wrong getting the better of right. It’s that simple,” and then he put the coffee back in place.

Adam, leaning back nursing his coffee, raised his eyebrows. Each of the others got a unique expression on his face that confirmed Davis’ comment.

“We are noble men,” Adam said with a slight smile, but then stopped talking and sat up straight as their food arrived and everything else was forgotten. There were platters of scrambled eggs, flapjacks, bacon, sausage and fried potatoes. They ate like starving men, following Davis’ advice to eat hearty whenever they could.

After breakfast, instead of starting out toward Carson City, Davis wanted to go south a way since that was the direction that Springer was planning to come from. The men spread out with instructions to fire two shots if they found anything, wait a few moments and fire two shots again. In the bright daylight on the flat desert, it seemed as though a man could see for miles. Sage grew here and there, along with scrub brush and the occasional cactus. The sun was bright, and it wasn’t long before Adam had rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt. The riders were separated by at least a half mile each. Adam wondered briefly how in his huge desert they find a trace of Springer, but the circling birds did that for them.

Without a notification shot being fired, the men converged at the spot where the birds were focused. There were two cacti at the edge of a small pond of algae covered water, and in that water lay a man with a bullet hole in the back of his head. Davis made an angry sound and brought his horse up short. Swinging down, he pulled the man out of the water and turned him over. He wasn’t pretty. Davis felt his body for a wallet or identification. He didn’t know what Springer looked like, but he suspected this was him. He eventually found an empty wallet, but that was all. It was Tucker who noticed a scrap of paper caught in the brush growing between the two cacti. Retrieving it, he could tell it was a piece torn from a larger piece of paper. He looked at both sides and handed it to Davis. The scrap had some writing on it, “Hen__ ______er.” It had been wet and much of the ink was smeared. Davis passed the scrap around.

“I bet his name was Henry and this is the same certificate we all got from the governor, appointing us Rangers,” Davis said tersely.

Adam swung down, and crouching by the small pond, dragged his hand through the shallow water to see whether anything else was in it. He extracted two more scraps that each only had an ornate border on them, but they matched the border on their own certificates. For the five men, this was enough proof that they had found Hank Springer. Whether he had destroyed the certificate himself when he encountered his murderers or they had done it, was not known. A Ranger wanted to remain anonymous if at all possible. There were men who would kill a Ranger just for being a Ranger, and there were also those who would make his death worse than it had to be.

Wellman looked a little green. “They murdered him in cold blood,” he said hoarsely

Adam averted his eyes, thinking that if the group of deserters had come upon Springer while traveling north from Arizona, they may have passed him at some point the day before. That thought sent a chill through him.

Davis knew they were all carrying their Ranger identification certificates on them. Sometimes they were needed. They also carried badges that almost no one wore for the same reason they didn’t want the certificates seen. “Men, don’t carry your certificates in your wallets, in your saddlebags or on your person. For now, put them in your boot or sock. When we get a chance, we’ll sew a pocket on our saddle blankets for them. That should be inconspicuous.”

He stood up and looked around him, knowing it was pointless to do so. There was so sign of Springer’s horse of or any other scraps of paper, which had long ago blown away. Springer’s holster was also missing.

Davis shook his head, “Help me get him up over my horse. We’ll take him to the undertaker in Roach and I’ll need to telegraph Gov. Nye’s office. The Ranger headquarters are there. They’ll need to send us another man.”

End of Chapter I

It was a long and quiet ride back to Roach. Davis rode at the end of the line of riders so the others didn’t have to look at the body draped over his saddle. No one had been expecting to start their mission this way. But it did accomplish one thing: their blood was boiling. They were like bloodhounds which had caught a scent, ready to track. It was like Davis said at breakfast; they couldn’t live with wrong getting the best of right.

It was fully noon by the time their business in Roach had been conducted. They were finally moving north toward Carson City. Instructions had come through that they were to meet their new partner in two days in Mount Montgomery. Adam had been worried the new man would come in on the Virginia City stage. Other than his father, Ben Cartwright, he had told no one about this assignment. Even his brothers Joe and Hoss thought he was spending several months in the east, where he went to college. He didn’t want to be seen in Virginia City with his group of Rangers, meeting a new man.

The group rode hard, sleeping on the desert floor at night, building only the smallest of fires to cook with and see by. They reached Mount Montgomery earlier than expected, to find much of it charred, in burned ruins, still smoking. Townspeople were wandering the streets in shock. Some were homeless. There was a line at the undertaker’s. The deserters had been there the night before. They had broken into homes. They had routed people out of bed, murdering some outright. They had slaughtered livestock. Their acts were random, outrageous and intolerable. The sheriff had been killed, so the Rangers could only speak with the deputy, who gave them facts in bits and pieces as they occurred to him in his stunned state of mind. The telegraph office had been destroyed, so no wire could be sent to Carson City letting the governor know they needed more than six men to deal with the insanity the Southern rebels were doling out.

Davis surveyed the scene on Main Street with hard, steely eyes. He sent his Rangers out to talk with the people to find out everything they could. They would identify themselves as officials with the governor’s office. One man told Adam that in the midst of the destruction, which struck just after midnight, all that could be heard throughout the town was the bloodcurdling sound of the infamous Rebel yell. The saloon, the last place to be hit, was left standing, but the marauders either smashed every bottle or took it with them. Tucker discovered that at least one woman had been taken away with the men. Wellman heard a story told by a Rebel who had broken into a private home. The intruder calmly and eerily explained that if his homeland had been destroyed, then he would personally destroy as many other homelands as he could. And then he set the house on fire.

Berger learned that the livery stable had been raided and all horses had been taken away. Davis saw for himself that the church and school house had been burned to the ground. It was random, senseless violence, fueled by the inexorable demons that four years of war had scarred these ex-soldiers with. Almost like a human mutation.

Amazingly, the stage arrived in town on time. It was an act of normalcy in a world gone mad. Adam happened to be the closest person to the stage office when the conveyance pulled in, so he greeted their new Ranger partner, Rudy Webb. What a baptism by fire, Adam thought to himself, and Webb stood rooted in place, taking in his surroundings with horror. They didn’t even have a horse for him. They had counted on obtaining one from the livery. Adam and Webb set about checking at private residences for a suitable mount.

Mount Montgomery was not that far from the Ponderosa. Adam was beginning to be concerned for the safety of his family and the ranch. People who could wreak this kind of destruction for the mere satisfaction of doing it would relish repeating it on a well-to-do, successful spread. Bring it to its knees. Cause human injury. Or death. Adam was becoming less and less concerned about being seen in Virginia City. He was beginning to think they needed to head there, and fast. When he and Webb ran across Davis, Adam expressed his concerns and suggested that the Rangers continue moving north where they would discover where their quarry was, had been, and what damage they had left in their wake. Davis agreed. He traveled to the farthest edges of the town, away from Main Street, where damage had been less devastating. He found a residence with a barn that housed three horses. Showing his Ranger badge, he was able to procure a mount for Webb, promising the owner that the state would replace the animal. He also wrote out a receipt for the man and gave him his name. Riding out, he acknowledged the owner’s exhortation to “catch them murderin’ thieves.”

It was too late now to ride any further as night was falling. The Rangers made themselves useful to the people of Mount Montgomery in any way they could, from assisting with the dead and wounded to tearing down and hauling away charred lumber. Fortunately the sawmill was still intact, so late into the night it operated, cutting innumerable planks that would rebuild lost homes and businesses. The town had organized itself well, and planned to divide itself up into groups to get buildings up quickly. The entire town was up until well past midnight, still too stunned by their fate to sleep. When everyone was ready to drop in their tracks, the citizens made sure that the Rangers each had a home to sleep in for the night, which they gratefully accepted. After a hot breakfast the following morning, they wished each other farewell, and the Rangers departed.

With his Nevada Rangers team now intact, Davis continued heading north. As the crow flew, they were not far from Virginia City and the Ponderosa. However, not being winged creatures put several significant obstacles in their way, specifically the interconnected mountain ranges, Silver Peak, Monte Cristo, Gabbs Valley, Gillis and Wassuk. Fortunately Adam knew of several passes that kept them close to ground level and helped them short cut through the mountains, so he took the lead. All the men watched their surroundings carefully, as these mountain ranges offered excellent hiding places for anyone who wanted to hide or prey upon other travelers.

“Cartwright, I suppose folks live in these mountains?” Davis questioned.

“Not in large numbers, but if you wanted to find yourself a mountain cabin, you’d be able to do it,” Adam answered. They were all thinking about the Rebels, remembering the comment about the Rebel yells that had accompanied the destruction in Mount Montgomery.

They kept up a rapid pace, even through the mountain ranges, all day. They reached Virginia City in the late afternoon, saddle weary but alert. The town appeared normal, which gave Adam great comfort. He had been dreading a sight such as he had seen in Mount Montgomery. He showed Rob Davis to the telegraph office first thing. Davis had several orders of business there. He wired the governor that he needed reinforcements immediately and briefly described the destruction they had encountered. He believed he needed to double the team he now had. He also needed to send word about the horse that needed to be returned to Mount Montgomery. Adam stopped him there, and suggested that they pick up a horse at the Ponderosa, and the donated horse could be returned to his owner by one of the ranch hands.

Just as Davis was agreeing to that idea, a hatless rider raced into town from the direction of the Ponderosa. Adam recognized him as a ranch hand of many years’ standing. Bob Barnes jumped off his horse outside the sheriff’s office. He hadn’t seen Adam, who followed him with Davis. The other Rangers had headed toward the saloon for a beer when they arrived in town.

“Attack on the Ponderosa!” Barnes was gulping in air. “The house is on fire and there’s a gun fight. There was a cattle stampede earlier and the log flume was dynamited.”

Roy Coffee was on his feet and buckling his gun belt. “Any injuries?”

“Yes, on each side.”

Roy looked at Adam as if it were perfectly normal to see a man in Virginia City who was actually visiting in Boston. “Any idea what’s going on?”

“Yes. We think it’s a marauding party of deserters from the Confederate Army. They destroy as they go. They could be headed here next, and then certainly to Carson City.”

Davis had already gone running for the Rangers in the saloon, and Sheriff Coffee told Barnes to recruit as much help as he could and return to the Ponderosa immediately. Adam ran for the saloon where the horses were hitched. Without thinking about it, he leaped into the saddle without using the stirrups, the way his brother Joe mounted his horse. The other Rangers were ready almost as fast, and Adam headed out of town at top speed with his partners on his heels.

End of Chapter II

Adam began to see smoke when he reached the halfway point, and his heart was in his throat. Shortly he began to hear gunfire. What on earth would they find when they got there? He guessed that his family would be in the house, if it wasn’t burning, and the Rebels would be in the barn or bunkhouse. He led the men behind some trees, stopping some distance behind the house. The bunkhouse was totally engulfed in flames and he heard constant gunfire as well as the shrill cries from the horses in the barn.

Staying low, Adam entered the house by the kitchen door. The kitchen was empty and when he reached the doorway to the rest of the house, he crouched and just barely turned his head around the corner. There was his family, posted at separate windows, shooting toward the barn. Crawling on his belly, he approached his father, who was shooting steadily out of a broken window.

“Pa, I’m here and I’ve brought reinforcements. When did this begin and how many of them are there?”

Ben didn’t take his eyes off the window. “Thank goodness, Adam. Began after lunch and there’s at least 10, maybe more. Hard to tell. The torched the bunkhouse about an hour ago. Some of the hands are still out in the North pasture. Joe and Hop Sing are upstairs.”

Adam looked over to Hoss who manned the next window over from Ben. There were two men down in the dirt yard between the house and barn. Based on clothing, Adam guessed one was a Rebel and the other a ranch hand. He moved back outside and rejoined the Rangers, explaining the situation. They decided to start inside the ranch house. When Barnes returned with more men, they could work on getting the horses out of the barn, but that was the trickiest angle since it appeared that’s where the Rebels were. Adam had to force himself not to think about losing the horses his family cared so much about; they were the most vulnerable right now. The house was vulnerable, too, because the bunkhouse was burning right next to it and it was completely impossible to work on the fire; they’d be picked off one by one.

The Rangers began to move toward the house. Suddenly Adam halted, noticing two men standing on the roof. He assumed they would try to enter through an upper window. Pulling his rifle from its scabbard, he motioned toward Davis, who pulled out his own rifle and they both aimed and shot at the men, bringing them down. Then the whole group continued moving forward to the house, following the path Adam had earlier used. Once inside, Adam used Wellman and Berger to temporarily relieve Ben and Hoss so they could reload their weapons. Then he guided Davis and Tucker upstairs and posted them near Joe and Hop Sing. Joe was astonished to see his brother, but there was no time to ask questions. He couldn’t have picked a better time to show up. Making sure everyone had enough ammunition, Adam moved carefully back downstairs.

He found his father in the kitchen, sitting in shock. This attack had hit out of the clear blue, unprovoked. Adam briefly explained who they were and what their mission was. More important, he stressed that more help was on the way and that they needed a strategy to save what they had. But he quickly saw that Ben was too dazed just then to plan a strategy. Adam had an idea and he made his way back upstairs to talk it over with Davis. It was daring and highly risky. Davis might expel him from the Rangers for even suggesting it.

He crept over to where Davis was shooting at the barn. Adam pulled him aside and put Webb in his place. After explaining his idea, he was surprised that Davis didn’t stare at him as though he had two heads. Instead, he made a couple of suggestions to make Adam’s plan more effective, and after a few more brief remarks, they both nodded and went back to the defense of the Ponderosa.

So far, Adam had yet to see any of the ex-soldiers, save the one who lay, presumably dead, in the yard and the two who had been shot off the roof. He wondered if they were assuming too much to think the rest were all in the barn. He moved back downstairs, and was relieved to see that his father had recovered sufficiently to resume a defense position at one of the windows. Moving through the kitchen, he checked behind the house and was rewarded by the sight of Bob Barnes returning with at least a dozen men, including Roy Coffee. Now that they were here, Adam’s audacious plan to attack the barn and save the horses could be executed. Pulling Little Joe, Rob Davis and Tom Berger from their positions inside the house, Adam assembled the men and explained what he wanted to do. Seeing for themselves the gravity of the situation, the men agreed.

Adam divided them into two groups. Both were told that when they shot their guns, shoot to kill. Then he sent them together to assemble the supplies they would need. This was a daunting task since the tools they really needed were in the barn or had been in the bunkhouse. At a point which he had established, they would split into two groups covering the front and back of the barn. For one of these groups he had selected the best shots he knew. Funny, he thought, he didn’t know much about the skills of the new Nevada Rangers. They were supposed to be the best, but they had never been in action together before. Now they would be for the first time, and there was much at stake.

Flames from the bunkhouse were beginning to scorch the side of the ranch house when the men were ready to put their plan into effect. Throughout this time, the shooting between the barn and the house had continued, but Adam and Davis had noticed that shots from the Rebels weren’t as continuous as they had been earlier. This could be a very good sign for them if it meant that they were running low on ammunition.

The men readied themselves behind the barn, laying flat in the tall grass. Adam began by shooting an outline in the back barn wall. Once the outline was clear, all fifteen men began reinforcing the pattern he had made. They were perforating the barn wall, and it was accomplished sooner than expected. The men then grabbed strong planks or poles they had collected and began ramming the wall section they had outlined. The wall began to give way, and this was when the second group left, running low to reach the front of the barn. Inside the house, Davis had earlier warned everyone not to shoot at them.

Once the barn wall fell in, there was general confusion. Some men had been trapped beneath it. Simultaneously, Joe and Roy Coffee pulled open the front barn doors. Now it was open at both ends, and shooting began in earnest. The Rebels were exposed as clear targets, and several of them were shot down right away. Some were trying to crawl out from under the collapsed barn wall and others tried to return fire. What no one expected was that they had their own horses in the barn along with the Ponderosa horses. With the overcrowded space and the whizzing bullets, the horses were hysterical and this added to the chaos of the battle.

Little Joe, with his temper, shot relentlessly and saw four men fall from his bullets, unable to shoot back. When he saw a man approach the stall where his father’s horse was kept, he increased his efforts and realized that he had help. That man was killed within seconds. With at least half their men down, and three down outside the barn, the enemy began to flee. They mounted horses and kicked them into full gallops out toward Virginia City. At least one more man was shot escaping this way. About five men had ridden out of the barn. Roy Coffee and his group pursued them. For Adam and his group, it was time to turn their attention to the fire.

A bucket brigade was formed and the side of the ranch house and its roof was soaked first. Then they threw water over the bunkhouse remains, which were a complete loss. Afterward, they stood, hot and sooty, pouring water on themselves. Ben and Hoss ran outside to inventory the wounded. One ranch hand was dead in the yard, a victim of the beginning of the attack. Bob Barnes had taken a bullet to the shoulder. Amazingly, those were the worst of the casualties. The rest amounted to scrapes and minor burns. Among the deserters, three were dead and three were alive but critically injured. The Rebel dead were put behind the barn to be taken care of later. The injured were laid on the porch. The Rangers would take them into town when they left. The ranch hand would be taken to the undertaker in Virginia City until it was known what his family wanted done with his remains. And Hop Sing had been able to remove the bullet from Barnes’ shoulder and bandage it until Dr. Martin could examine him, which might be a day or so. It was a clean wound, so chances were good for a full recovery.

The Cartwright men weren’t saying anything, but each of them was very grateful that his horse had not been stolen or shot. They were all very fond of their horses, and losing one would be like losing a family member.

Hop Sing, despite being pressed into service as a soldier and doctor all in one day, still insisted on heading into the kitchen to make dinner for the hungry men. Adam realized that his brothers would now have to know about his position as a Ranger; there was no help for it. They would just have to be sworn to secrecy, knowing that Adam’s life depended on it.

Davis wanted the Rangers to spend the night in Virginia City, even though Ben had offered them Ponderosa hospitality. He was concerned that more deserters than they knew about could be lurking, waiting to wreak the same havoc on Virginia City that Mount Montgomery had been inflicted with. And in the morning he wanted to be off early to Carson City, where he expected more trouble and likely more Rebels.

After being fed, the Rangers mounted their horses to be on their way. Adam apologized to his father for leaving so much behind. A new bunkhouse would have to be built right away. Ben assured his son that there plenty of hands on the ranch to get the task done; he knew that Adam’s priority as a Nevada Ranger was to eliminate the scorch and destroy policy the misguided deserters were employing.

As the Rangers rode out, Ben, Hoss and Joe called out their thanks. Without their help, the outcome for the Ponderosa might have been far worse. Davis’ men carried the dead and wounded from the battle in a wagon that would be returned to the Cartwrights. The dead would be taken to the undertaker in Virginia City, and the wounded to Dr. Martin or Roy Coffee, in whatever order the sheriff deemed best.

The ride into town was uneventful and unimpeded. Any activity regarding the Rebels who had escaped had already occurred with the sheriff’s pursuit, or there had been no interception. However, the Rangers were watching carefully all the way, especially because the wagon slowed them down and made reactions, if necessary, more cumbersome.

Upon reaching Virginia City, they parceled out their charges as had previously been determined. Roy reported that they had not caught up with the four Rebels who escaped from the Ponderosa barn. His best guess is that they had headed north to Carson City. The Rangers absorbed this news silently inasmuch as they were expecting a confrontation there. Then got themselves double rooms at the International House for the night. They were all tired, and most of them took time only to pull off their boots before stretching out on their beds. They were not awakened during the night by cries for help or fire bells. It was a normal night in Virginia City.

End of Chapter III

Davis got them up just after dawn and following a quick breakfast, they were on the road to Carson City, which was not far away. In fact, they reached it by noon, having encountered heavy traffic on the main road to the state capital. Davis wanted to see Col. Wagner as soon as he could so he could be briefed on the situation in Carson. As always, Adam looked around him and found the city wanting as a state capital. True, it was in its infancy, but in many ways Virginia City seemed a more sophisticated place than Carson City. He knew plans were underway for official government buildings, so he supposed patience was required for the time being.

Davis left to seek Col. Wagner, and the rest of his team casually observed Carson City to see what they could discover. There certainly were plenty of cowboys in Carson, just as there were in Virginia City. As Adam strolled the muddy boardwalks with Rudy Webb, he also noticed a fair number of gaunt looking men who wore gray or butternut jackets that had been patched many times or clothing that simply didn’t match at all, as if its owner had been lucky to find anything to wear at all. Those men matched his idea of what a deserter from an army that could no longer feed or clothe its rank and file would look like. In addition, if those deserters had fled thousands of miles across the country, living hand to mouth off the land, they would look very much like the men he was noticing all over Carson City. He remarked on this grimly to Webb, who agreed with him. Both of them experienced a sinking feeling in the pits of their stomachs because they were seeing far more of these “desperadoes”—which is what they looked like—than they had counted on. It was like a convention. They had convened here in Carson City for a purpose.

They walked past the sheriff’s office and a rowdy crowd was gathered there. There was pushing and shoving, and loud complaining about justice and different ways it could be served. It was a mixed crowd of all the types of people Adam had seen in town.

Webb nudged a cowboy next to him, “Just got into town. What’s goin’ on here?

The man pushed his hat back on his head and looked at Webb. “Some stragglers in town roughed up a man pretty bad in the saloon last night. Guy died today. Nice man; had a family.”

Webb winced sympathetically. He and Adam edged away from the crowd and headed for one of several saloons along the main street. Named Sophie’s Palace and decorated outside with painted pictures of dancing ladies in colorful dresses, it was crowded. In fact, standing room only. Adam and Webb managed to get a beer and then they moved back into the establishment to watch some card games at various tables. For all intents and purposes, everyone played poker. Adam watched, pretending to be interested, but he was really listening for whatever tidbits he could pick up. The table he had chosen seated mostly cowpokes about his age.

They played mechanically as they kept up a riding dialogue about recent events in town. Occasionally they looked at each other, but mostly they stared at their cards.

“If you ask me, it’s been nothing but trouble since these stragglers shuffled into town last couple weeks,” one commented, chewing on a toothpick.

“Seems that way, but I’m staying out of it. Don’t wanna end up like Granger. It ain’t worth it. I ain’t arguin’ ‘bout a war that’s not even here in these parts.”

“Yeah, but did you see that fella just up and draw on Granger? And for nuthin’!”

“Think they’ll hang him?”

“Well, Granger died today. Circuit judge will come through and there’ll be a trial. Good chance he’ll hang.”

“Maybe, if his buddies don’t bust him out first.”

“Meanin’ what?”

“Look around. There’s a ton of men around town look just like him. They’re like a huge gang an’ they got mean politics. Wouldn’t wanna be the sheriff right now.”

“It is strange at that. Wonder what else they’re up to.”

Adam took his leave then, wandering over to another table. He wondered what else they were up to, also. He saw that Webb had joined a poker game. Two of the players looked like Rebels. He went to stand behind Webb. “I wondered where you’d gotten off to,” he told him. “You sure you oughta be playing when we got supplies to pick up?”

“We got plenty of time,” he drawled. “Lemme play this hand.” He played it out, and it was a dud. He finally threw it down on the table. “I’m out, boys. Better luck next time,” he pushed his chair back from the table, leaving his money in the pile, not attempting to withdraw it.

One the scruffy drifters, a slight man with a chip on his shoulder jumped to his feet. “You can’t just go in and out of a game hand to hand like that. Either you play or you don’t.”

Webb managed to look sheepish. “My mistake, boys. I really didn’t have enough time to play. You can split my take there.” There really wasn’t much left to do. Webb was being reasonable.

But his opponent wasn’t having any. “Either you sit down and play or you fight,” his hand had moved to the butt of his pistol.

The other drifter at the table looked up at his buddy. “C’mon, Peters, it isn’t worth it. He’s leaving his money. Let it go.”

“Could be a trick,” Peters said suspiciously.

Adam, who had been preparing to draw if he had to, was relieved to see Davis walking toward them. He stopped at the table and fixed Adam and Webb with a long stare.

“Can’t I leave you boys for fifteen minutes without you finding trouble? Did you get the supplies or not?” When no response was forthcoming, Davis continued, “I didn’t think so. Get yourself over to the general store and pick up my order.” His tone brooked no quibbling. He threw a five dollar gold piece onto the table. “Sorry my boys interfered with your game. G’night,” and he followed Adam and Webb out of the saloon.

Out on the street, Webb let out a low whistle. “I hope that’s over,” he said. “I was just trying to pick up information.”

“Did you find Wagner?” Adam asked Davis.

“Yeah, and something is definitely up. This town is crawling with Rebel drifters. There was a murder last night and a lot of tension. Everyone’s nerves are on edge. Wagner thinks something is planned, but he doesn’t have any details. He’s looking for someone to infiltrate the Rebels. By the way, a lot of the cowboys you see around here are actually Rangers.”

“And if we’re trying to infiltrate the Rebels, they’re probably trying to infiltrate us,” Adam said dryly. This was becoming a complicated game of cat and mouse.”

“Exactly, Cartwright,” Davis agreed. “That’s why we can’t be too careful.

The team spent the next few minutes comparing notes about what they had observed around town. Berger had overheard a conversation in a different saloon about “blowing the town wide open.” Tucker offered that his mother had been raised in Georgia, and even though he had grown up in Nevada, he could perfectly mimic the accent she had never lost. Therefore, he was a potentially useful infiltrator. Davis immediately sent him off to find clothing that would help him blend in, and to find out any information he could about attack plans. The governor and other state officials had already been moved to another location, as had money from the two banks’ biggest vaults.

“Well, they’ve bought the Civil War here,” said Davis, voicing a sentiment that Adam was suddenly feeling.

By early evening many of the deserter types had disappeared from the streets and public buildings. Adam interpreted this as an ominous sign and suspected that their attack deadline was drawing near. Many Rangers were sent walking the streets, closely examining private residences for signs of large public gatherings. Two brought back reports of a large gathering in a two story house, and another in a local church away from the main street. Paul Tucker found Davis shortly after the first two reports came in. He looked markedly different, wearing an old gray coat with holes in it, black boots with the soles half gone, and brown pants with split seams. He had attended the meeting at the church. He had been given an assignment too: blow up the Carson City Bank that night at 1:30. He showed Davis the sticks of dynamite he was carrying inside his coat. He had more information, too. Davis dragged him over to Col. Wagner’s office so he could reveal it privately.

The attack was to take place in the middle of the coming night. Dynamite had been obtained from several mining sites nearby. Each of Carson City’s banks was to be blown up. Also on the dynamite list was the governor’s office, the sheriff’s office, the general store, and the livery--but only after the horses had been removed. Three of the largest houses were to be torched as well as the saw mill and telegraph office. An oversize bonfire was to be set at each end of the main street to create havoc and block the main exits from town. All of the Rebels had been given specific assignments by a man named Peters. Adam’s head bobbed up at the sound of that name. Peters was the angry man at the poker table in the saloon.

Davis sat stroking his chin momentarily. “We have to let Col. Wagner know immediately, and there has to be a plan to let the rest of the Rangers know about this. Wellman, will you find Wagner and bring him back here?” Jay Wellman was out the door in a flash.

Adam asked for a closer look at the dynamite. It was the same kind used on the Ponderosa, which was not far from Carson City. It could be the same supply.

“Paul, was all the dynamite distributed or is there a stash of it somewhere?” Adam asked.

“Some of both,” Tucker answered. “I took this much and others took some, but a fairly good size pile was still inside the church. Why?”

“Well, the more of it we pour water on, the fewer explosions we’ll have,” Adam explained.

“I think I can take care of that,” Tucker answered. “I can get back inside the church and wait until it’s clear. Then I’ll soak the dynamite,” and he headed out the door.

About five minutes later Col. Wagner returned with Wellman. Davis explained the entire plan to him. It was more elaborate than Wagner, or any of them, had thought. Col. Wagner said he would find each team’s senior leader and explain the plan to him. Then the senior leader could inform his team. After Wagner made his exit, Davis went over everything with his team.

“We’re all set then, aren’t we?”

“We are as long everyone who gave us information was who he said he was,” replied Adam, the eternal cynic.

End of Chapter IV

Davis looked at him carefully. “Do you have doubts, Cartwright?”

“I always have doubts,” Adam answered truthfully. Then he got up to make sure he had enough ammunition for his guns. He was also ready for some food. No point in doing battle on an empty stomach. Berger and Wellman trudged along with him to a small diner on the main street.

“What are you worried about, Cartwright?” Wellman asked him once they were seated.

“Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

“But look around you. There are deserters everywhere,” Wellman persisted.

“That’s true, but look how easy it was for Tucker to get a gray jacket and all the details of the plans. That’s what’s bothering me.”

“You think Tucker’s an infiltrator?”

“The thought crossed my mind. He told us 1:30. I’d put my money on something happening sooner. When we’re done here, I’m going to find Wagner.”

The clock on the diner wall read 9:35. They ate chicken pot pie, green beans and chocolate cake with coffee. At 10:01 Adam walked out of the diner and headed for the last place he had seen Davis and Wagner, in Wagner’s office. Empty. He left and headed for the main street, his mind racing. If he was right and the attack time was earlier, he had no idea how much time they had to coordinate a response, much less how to do it. He poked his head into three saloons, which weren’t as crowded as they should have been for the time of night. Then, walking down the boardwalk, he came across Davis and Wagner near the sheriff’s office. A crowd still waited there, still buzzing, same as earlier in the day.

The two men were with some other men, whom Adam assumed were also Ranger senior team leaders like Davis. He managed to pull the two aside and told them his suspicions regarding Tucker and the timing of the attack. They both eyed him steadily, and then looked at each other.

“Cartwright, I think you may have put something together here. Let’s go in the talk to the sheriff,” Wagner said and drew both men with him into the sheriff’s office. On hearing the theory, the sheriff, a man named Lemler, insisted that the other senior Rangers come inside to hear Adam’s idea. Once this had been accomplished, teams were assigned to each of the vulnerable areas around Carson City that Tucker had identified. They were to stand watch and stop any destructive activity before it was successfully achieved. Adam himself was assigned the Carson City Bank, the same location that Tucker had been assigned to dynamite. Looking at Davis, Adam knew he was going to need more than one man. Davis put a hand on his shoulder and told him not to worry; he would send Berger and Webb over, possibly even Wellman, to help him safeguard the bank.

By 11:10 Adam was at the bank, and could see that some low level lighting had been put in place. He saw the shadow of one man, whom he assumed to be Tucker, moving around inside the bank. He moved to the back of the building, and found a window jimmied and standing open. Like a cat, he climbed soundlessly through the opening and waited, keeping low. Tucker seemed to be focusing his efforts more in the lobby of the bank, which was closer to the vault. Minutes passed and no backup appeared for Adam. Maybe Davis was having trouble locating Berger, Webb or Wellman in the deluge of men moving about Carson City.

Adam stayed put, and at almost midnight exactly, Tucker lit a match for the bundle of dynamite sticks he had laid in the center of bank floor. He had obviously not drenched it with water. As he moved the flame toward the fuses he was prepared to light, Adam moved, gun drawn.

“Don’t do it, Tucker,” he warned, moving into the bank proper and around Tucker, never taking his eyes off him, his gun pointed at the man constantly.

“Cartwright, aren’t you quick minded,” Tucker chuckled appreciatively. “You put two and two together and came up with the right answer. I can’t begin to tell you the trouble…” he stopped suddenly and Adam saw the match fall to the floor at the same time Tucker’s hand reached for his own gun. But there was more than that. The expression on his face turned to one of horror as his eyes widened in ghastly amazement and he screamed, “Cartwright!”

Adam didn’t wait. He fired two shots, knowing that both hit their target. As he knew that Tucker had fallen, he turned his head to identify what had caused the dead man’s final reaction and saw the bank’s floor-to-ceiling cabinet of shelves and endless cubbyholes falling toward him. He tried desperately to dodge it, but due to its weight, it was falling too fast. He had no more turned his body 45 degrees when he felt the cabinet start to press against him, and as it fell completely to the floor, pressing Adam down with it, he was aware for a millisecond that he was gravely injured, and then all the world was nothing but black silence.
*******

From a great distance away he heard saws and axes fighting against wood. He heard wood hitting wood after it had been flung through the air into a pile. Buzzing in the background he heard the angry voices of a mob. Closer, an angry voice would occasionally demand that everyone hurry to move the debris “so we can get him out of here.” Somewhere before he had heard that voice, but where? Then more demands, for a stretcher, for a wagon, and, with a little more respect, “Doc, is he alive?” This last would usually be followed by silence and by a gentle hand feeling and touching and inflicting great pain…great beyond bearing, and followed again by blackness. Then more relentless repetitions of the same.

A bitter liquid was forced between his lips. He protested mightily, much to his regret, but it kept coming. After he no longer resisted it, the friendly blackness came around again.

Finally, Davis told Berger and Wellman to get the stretcher. The doctor supervised their movement of him onto it and out into the night where the wagon waited, cushioned with layers of quilts. The crowd pressed, but Davis fired his pistol into the air and his toughs moved the people back. The stretcher was moved into the wagon and the doctor climbed in next to it. The wagon began rolling. He couldn’t have stood the bumping in his condition, which is why they had put him out. A man sitting next to the driver held a pistol, and Davis, riding behind, did too.

“Davis, where…” Webb began to ask.

“To a safe house.”

Webb and his partners exchanged looks. Then they kicked their horses lightly and followed Davis.

********

He was lucky. Everyone said so. But to his own way of thinking, it was probably worse than death. At least death ended. This never did. The doctor, who came by daily, said he had a skull fracture, broken collarbone, a broken arm and crushed hand, four broken ribs--two of which had punctured his lung—a broken hip and a broken leg. Then, in addition, every muscle in his body hurt and virtually his entire skin surface was bruised.

His hip and leg were in a single plaster cast, as was his arm and hand. His head was wrapped (and shaved) around the fracture, as were his ribs, although in addition, his side had a flutter valve cut in it to allow his lung to re-inflate. He was not to be left alone under any circumstance lest he develop breathing difficulties, which would require immediate attention.

They kept him asleep a lot, but when he was awake he was aware of two things: his head hurt like the devil, and very often Webb or Wellman or Berger was in his room with him. The attending nurse didn’t like that, but they stayed put nevertheless.

Once when he was awake, he was alone in his room with a woman whose bright red hair and striking green dress almost hurt his eyes. The hair was a complicated labyrinth of curlicues and pinned-up ringlets and the dress looked expensive. She had a bowl of hot broth and she was determined to get it inside him.

“Where am I?” The words sounded so weak to him.

“You’re at Safe Harbor. It’s a safe house,” she was older than he, but attractive to look at once the eyes adjusted to the raucous colors.

“Why?”

“Why are you at a safe house?”

“Yes.”

“Well, my dear boy, you ruined all their plans, and you didn’t die, and no one knows where a safe house is, and Safe Harbor was the closest one to get you to.”

He gave up then because she came at him with broth and then more, and he kept swallowing it.

Another day while the nurse sat disapprovingly in a straight chair, he awoke to see Rob Davis looking at him carefully. He gave Adam a half smile once his eyes opened.

“Well, you been through the war, all right. You were right about everything, but no one can figure how that blasted thing fell on you. I was on my way in to meet Berger and Webb when I heard the crash. I heard Tucker yell your name, and I heard you shoot. We all figured you backed into the shelf unit and toppled it. Don’t know, but I can tell you this: the powers that be were furious that their plans were waylaid. That’s why we took you to this safe house to recover. They wanted you in the worst way, but seeing as how we put a headstone for you in the cemetery, at the moment they think you’re dead. Little do they know that Miss Emmaline is taking good care of you.” When he saw Adam’s eyes dart to the nurse, he chuckled. “No, not her. You’ll know Miss Emmaline when you see her. Not too many ladies like her around here. I’ll be back to see you, Cartwright.” Before he turned to leave, he reached out a hand as though he wanted to place it comfortingly somewhere on Adam’s body, but he stopped and retracted it when he realized there probably was no place he would set it where it wouldn’t cause pain.

The days passed. That’s all he could say for them. He was aware at times, and unaware at others. There was a point when he could say to himself that didn’t feel as close to death has he had on previous days. That had to be a good sign. Miss Emmaline began to spend more time with him. She was an accomplished nurse herself, and would keep up a steady stream of conversation while she changed bandages. The doctor, Martin Bentley, still came every day and checked his injuries, especially the flutter valve. He told Adam that his lung appeared to be re-inflating rather well. This was often a problem in collapsed lungs. In larger cities surgery was sometimes performed, but this Carson City doctor readily admitted he was not the man to attempt that type of procedure. Even better, Adam was breathing well on his own. His ribs hurt if he breathed too deeply, but he had learned how to manage that. Dr. Bentley told him he had a minimum of six weeks to recover before he could be moved, and that was after at least a two week stay. Adam’s heart dropped at that news. He was starting to feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure where he was, and he was most definitely defenseless. He was glad that Berger, Webb and Wellman visited him, but he wasn’t completely sure what side they were on. After all, Tucker had fooled them, hadn’t he?

End of Chapter V

One day Adam questioned Miss Emmaline. “Where are we?”

“I told you, silly, this is Safe Harbor.”

“No, I mean, where is Safe Harbor located?”

She put her needlework in her lap and looked at him, feigning exasperation. “I told you, safe house locations are secret. That’s why they’re safe houses. But this is between Carson and Reno. That’s all I’ll tell you.” Adam sighed and contemplated the ceiling as he had been doing so often in recent weeks.

Miss Emmaline had been spending more and more time with him over the past week. It was she who sat with him more than the white uniformed nurse who never spoke unless it was necessary for his care. Miss Emmaline, however, believed that talking was therapeutic. She talked as she knitted, mended, or did other needlework. She told him about her childhood in Colorado where her parents had settled with their four daughters, who had now scattered to the four winds. She told him about the many and varied jobs she had held, from seamstress to saloon girl to nurse. He learned that she had had one short marriage a long time ago, and a lovely daughter from that marriage, who had died in a flu epidemic at age two. She talked of broken hearts, compassion, healing, and helping humanity because it was so badly needed. That led her to the topic of Safe Harbor, and he heard about how she had come in contact with Gov. Nye when the Nevada Rangers were being formed, and how the governor asked her to establish the first safe house. Emmaline talked to Adam for hours and hours over several days. She began bringing her meals in to eat with him at lunch and dinner. When she asked him about himself, he answered her questions briefly and to the point.

One day, however, she found his soft spot, reading and education. Once she began to pepper him with questions about books he had read, she found the cork that opened the bottle and let the wine pour freely. She didn’t have a perfect education, but she could read and she had a romantic nature, so she warmly embraced every character and author he mentioned. One evening he told her the story of the Odyssey in such detail she felt as though she had read it. He told her enough about Shakespeare that she vowed to buy herself some volumes the next time she went to town.

One day after lunch, she had wheedled him into talking about his beloved horse, Sport. He said much more about a personal topic than he had ever said to anyone. And he must have fallen asleep, too, because the next thing he was aware of was Miss Emmaline coming into his room with a small tub of water, along with towels and soap. It was time for his bath, she said. He kept looking at the doorway for the white uniformed nurse to follow her in. This nurse, who disapproved of most things, was the one who always performed such tasks, and Adam never thought about it. But she never appeared, and Miss Emmaline moved briskly around the rooms, setting up his bath. She made him nervous. Surely she wasn’t thinking that she would bathe him? That would be too personal. They had talked about too many things for her to bathe him. He knew her too well by now. But her red hair was pinned up rather severely and she was wearing a plain white blouse with a navy blue skirt.

He started to protest, but she was humming as she worked, and she wasn’t listening. She pulled up a chair close to the bed, along with the towels and the water. She started by shaving the heavy beard that grew every few days. He looked entirely different with a clean shaven face. Then she pulled the bedclothes down to his waist and lathered up a smaller hand towel with soap. She moved with no wasted movements, washing his face, his neck, his arms, his chest, his stomach, always avoiding bandages. She rinsed and dried him, and then turned him gently just enough so she could wash his back. She even managed to wash that part of his hair that wasn’t covered by bandages. Her fingers working gently through his hair felt wonderful. He began to relax. The soap smelled good. When she had carefully removed the soap from his hair and towel dried it, she pulled the covers all the way to the end of the bed. Half of the lower part of his body was in a cast, but she efficiently bathed his available leg, waist, hip, and everything else that was available, front and back. Adam felt himself react to her touch, but Miss Emmaline said nothing and her demeanor did not change. She hummed. She rinsed him and patted his skin dry gently. She was done. She pulled the covers up over him and sat back, smiling.

“You’re done, young man. I bet that feels better.”

“Young man, my foot,” he snorted.

She crossed her arms. “Well you are, from my point of view, and a very handsome one, too. I’ll bet you’re a sight for sore eyes when your bones aren’t broken, and your skin isn’t purple and green.”

He smiled slightly. “I’m a regular heartbreaker.”

“No, I don’t think you are,” she returned. “I think you’re very careful with your relationships.” Her hand reached out to brush back some of his damp hair, and she allowed it to slide down to his cheek, where it lay for several moments while she looked into his eyes. She leaned forward slowly, looking at his mouth. She touched her lips to his gently. They were soft and warm. She kept hers in place for several moments, and he didn’t fight her. When she sat back in her chair, they both looked at each other without words. She sighed and began to gather her supplies up. Moving to the door, she put her hand on the knob and turned to look at him.

“If only I were ten years younger, Adam Cartwright…” she said wistfully.

He smiled. It was she first time she’d seen him do it and it was like looking at a completely different person. “You know as well as I do, that is complete hogwash, Miss Emmaline,” he told her softly.

End of Chapter VI

Adam was surprisingly sleepy over the next few days. Emmaline could barely wake him up to eat, and when he did, he fell asleep immediately afterward. On the second day she mentioned it to Dr. Bentley at his daily visit. The doctor took Adam’s temperature and examined his head wound closely. He saw nothing to indicate concern. This man had a lot of healing to do, and he chalked up the sleep to his body doing its work. He took it as a good sign that Emmaline had been able to draw him into extended conversations. That was a good sign that his skull fracture had not damaged his brain. Still, Emmaline frowned.

She was frowning even more when Adam was still asleep when the doctor returned the following day. He’d skipped breakfast altogether. Davis had stopped by for a quick visit the night before, but left within five minutes when Miss Emmaline explained his extended sleepiness.

“He’s just plain tuckered out,” Davis said. “Heck, just lookin’ at him makes me tired!”

Even Dr. Bentley still maintained he was still on track as far as his healing went, but made Miss Emmaline promise to call him if anything else changed, or even if she felt her concern increase. Emmaline thanked him profusely as he left to return to his private practice in Carson City. She sat with Adam for the rest of the day. Toward evening, he began to rouse. Emmaline moved to his side quickly and touched his forehead, stroking his cheeks.

“Adam? Can you hear me? You need to wake up, Adam.”

He made a noise and his eyes opened to slits against the dimming light in the room. He knew Miss Emmaline was talking to him. She wanted him to talk to her, too. He was so tired that any movement was an extraordinary effort. Why was that? He had actually been feeling better recently.

“Hmmm,” it was the best he could do. It seemed that Miss Emmaline accepted that. She pulled her chair close to him, and he could smell food.

“Do you feel ill? You’ve slept all day and you haven’t eaten all day. I want you to eat now if you can.”

Did he feel ill? He was just so tired. He was hungry too, he admitted to himself.

“No.”

She froze. He wouldn’t eat? Then she realized she’d been chattering at him.

“Adam, do you feel ill?” She started over.

“No.”

“Will you try to eat?”

After a long pause, “Yeah.”

She slid her arm beneath his neck, raising his head slightly. She fed him a spoonful of bread pudding, something he could just swallow. He took it, and she gave him more. He ate it all. There were some soft cooked carrots which he also took. There was some tea, which he drank. He hadn’t been taking enough liquid so she was glad. Then he stopped, raised his hand slightly and closed his eyes. Miss Emmaline moved to put his tray on the side table, and when she turned back, he was asleep. She got up to leave the room. She looked at him for a while, and then bent to kiss his forehead. But for the turns of fate, she thought to herself wistfully. Then she took the tray and left the room.

In the middle of the night she heard sounds. She must be dreaming. Safe Harbor was located in a secret location and it was so quiet nothing ever disturbed her sleep. What was this dream about? It wouldn’t come clearly. Then pounding, unceasing pounding. Good heavens! What a bizarre dream. Finally, she was being assaulted.

“Miss Emmaline! Miss Emmaline! Come right away. Mr. Cartwright is bleeding to death!” One of her night nurses, Augusta Quinn, was shaking her shoulder and then pulling her by the arm.

In her bare feet, Emmaline ran, grabbing her wrapper from a chair as she went. She ran down the stairs faster than ever before, heading for the room with the lantern light spilling into the hallway. Four people were in the room working over Adam. A fifth was wiping up the pool of blood on the floor.

Two of the night nurses were wrapping strips of sheeting around his wrist. They were wrapping it as fast as they could. Two others ripped strips for their use. When they had wrapped it snugly, two of them applied strong pressure together. The white sheeting turned red quickly.

Emmaline was taking in the macabre scene before her. Adam was lying on the bed, white faced, eyes closed. The nurses had slipped in the blood coming into the room as evidenced by the bloody swipes on their skirts. The nurse on her hands and knees wiping the floor was just about finished. A knife and a book lay on the floor not far from the bed.

“Miss Emmaline, we were making rounds when we heard noises in this room. Two things fell. As we came in here, we noticed it was cold. We lit a lamp and saw it all at once,” Augusta was explaining. “The knife lay on the floor near the book, and his arm hung down, bleeding. He must not have been able to stand it. He slit his own wrist!” At this last, she clapped both hands over her mouth in horror.

Emmaline stared at her, and then at Adam. “You heard the knife fall first? What was the second thing that fell?”

“Oh, the book,” Augusta indicated it lying near the knife. “It’s ruined now,” she moved it slightly with the toe of her shoe and it left a bloody trail.

Twelfth Night. Emmaline recognized its brown fabric cover. She had bought it the other day, thinking to read it to Adam, but they had never gotten started since he had been sleeping so much. She hadn’t left the book on the bed, she knew she hadn’t. She was sure it had been on the bureau near the window.

“The doctor?” She asked, sounding more in control than she felt.

“Hamilton left immediately to fetch him.” Hamilton was the jack-of-all-trades house man at Safe Harbor.

The sheeting strips around Adam’s wrist had turned completely red and it was dripping blood despite the pressure being applied by the nurses. Without thinking, Emmaline grabbed two strips, folded them each in half, added several more just like them and told the nurses to remove the saturated strips. As soon as they were out of the way, Emmaline slapped her layers of sheeting across the deep cut in his wrist. Then she instructed the nurses to wrap more strips thoroughly and tightly around them. When they had more than doubled the sheeting, they pressed again, hard.

“Does he have a pulse?” Emmaline hesitated to even ask the question.

“Yes, ma’am, he’s still alive.” Thank God.

Noise from the outside signaled the arrival of Hamilton and Dr. Bentley. Hamilton propelled the man into Adam’s room, where he took over for the two shaken nurses. He continued to apply pressure until the bleeding slowed considerably, and then he proceeded to rapidly stitch the wound. When he was finished, he looked around him, stopping at Miss Emmaline.

“This man didn’t slit his own wrist,” he said, indicating his immobile, casted opposite arm and hand. “He wouldn’t have been able to manipulate the knife.” He bent to pick up the knife. It was a standard kitchen knife.

Augusta spoke up. “When we first came into the room, it was cold. Could someone have entered and left through the window?”

The doctor raised the window, and holding a lantern out over the ground, he peered out. He pulled his head back in the window.

“Yep. There are footprints outside. I would say an assailant entered through the window, cut his wrist and left quickly the same way.”

With an immediate chill, Emmaline remembered Adam’s unexplainable sleepiness during the past three days. Her rapid conclusion was that he was being drugged prior to the attempt on his life, and if so, the immunity of her safe house had been breeched. She quickly took a mental count. Adam was one of five residents or patients currently at Safe Harbor. The cook would immediately be relieved of duty and Emmaline herself would prepare all meals, she decided.

When Adam’s bandage had stayed primarily white for an hour, Dr. Bentley took his leave, impressing on Miss Emmaline the importance of placing a 24-hour guard on him and the advisability of moving him to another location as fast as possible. He had also advised her to check her food supplies for contamination, and had warned her what complications to be on the lookout for.

In the middle of the night, Emmaline awoke the cook and asked her to pack and remove herself from Safe Harbor immediately. The cook occasionally took on nursing duties at the safe house, but Emmaline had not put together that the cook was the same, disapproving, white uniformed nurse who had also at times attended Adam. Leaving with Hamilton to drive her, she gave Emmaline a sly look that was distinctly unpleasant. But then, she had always disapproved of everything and Emmaline had assumed she was one of the world’s generally unhappy people. Hamilton had been given instructions to drop her off at the sheriff’s office, along with a hastily written note from Miss Emmaline.

When dawn was on the horizon, Emmaline and two nurses were in the kitchen, examining the food supplies. They were especially looking at powdered ingredients and liquid additives. They had checked flour, baking power, baking soda, wines and vinegar. They had tasted samples for bitterness. They checked coffee and tea supplies. Finally, in desperation, Emmaline had them inventory the locked medicine cabinet that was kept near the nurse’s station.

That morning breakfast was fresh scrambled eggs from the hen house, fresh bread with butter, and fresh milk from the barn, all of which Emmaline tasted herself before feeding the patients. After 30 minutes with no ill effects, she allowed the patients to be fed. She didn’t expect Adam to eat; Dr. Bentley had given him medication to sleep throughout most of the day. He would come by later to change the bandage himself. Emmaline planned to spend the day at his bedside.

In the meantime, she had ordered a search of the released nurse’s room and a complete search of the kitchen for any suspicious substance. Emmaline now wished that she had searched her belongings when she had departed. At mid-morning, Augusta Quinn came to Emmaline in Adam’s room. The held up a small, brown glass vial. Laudanum.

“We found this tucked behind the breadbox, Miss Emmaline.”

Emmaline reached out for it. It was about half full. If the cook had been dosing Adam for three days, it would have kept him asleep throughout the entry into his room, and also would have led to little or no reaction to the cut on his wrist. Emmaline met Augusta’s eyes with a troubled look. Who had injured him? Had it been the cook or was there another person or persons involved in this lethal attack? She kept the bottle in her dress pocket and dismissed Augusta.

End of Chapter VII

Sighing, she thought over possibilities that occurred to her. Somehow, across all those miles, the high-strung and deadly emotions of the Civil War had reached Nevada. No one could be trusted, she realized. Cook may have been acting on her own or with accomplices. Adam had received several visitors from his Nevada Rangers team since he had been here, so at least a handful of people knew where the safe house was. How did anyone go through life without trusting someone, she wondered. It might be possible, but it would be a very solitary life.

Late that afternoon, Adam’s three fellow Rangers, Berger, Wellman and Webb, came calling, expecting to see their colleague well on the mend. Instead, they were aghast to hear about the previous night’s incident. Emmaline watched them closely when she described what happened. She thought it would be difficult to feign the horror she read on their faces. It seemed most genuine.

Jay Wellman stepped forward and took her by the shoulders. “Listen, Miss Emmaline. After this, you can’t keep Cartwright here anymore. He’s in danger. Whoever missed last night will try again.”

“I don’t know who to trust anymore!” Emmaline cried out in frustration. “Where would I send him?”

“Well, you could ask Col. Wagner. He’s in charge of the Nevada Rangers. But, if it were up to me under these circumstances, I would send him home to his family. It’s a big spread. They can protect him. Just send a wire to Ben Cartwright on the Ponderosa Ranch, Virginia City,” Wellman urged her.

Emmaline must have done a double take. She had heard of the Ponderosa before, of course. Everyone had. So Adam was that Cartwright. The Ponderosa was not far from Carson City and Reno, either. Somehow, she trusted these three men, and Wellman’s advice made all the sense in the world. She kissed his cheek.

“Thank you. I’ll do it. I think you’re right; it will be the safest thing for him. Anything else happening to him now will kill him.”

Wellman had blushed when she kissed him, but he squeezed her shoulders, and then the three men spent a few moments quietly with Adam before they left Safe Harbor. Emmaline immediately sat down to write a message to be wired to Adam’s family:

TO: Ben Cartwright, Ponderosa Ranch, Virginia City, Nevada

FROM: Emmaline Gilbert, Carson City, Nevada

Have your son Adam in my care. He is injured and in danger. Go to Dr. M. Bentley in Carson City; he will direct you to my home. Come ASAP.

She gave the message to Hamilton and sent him off to town to have it wired right away. She also asked him to have Sheriff Lemler stop by to see her as soon as he could. She prayed that the Cartwrights would come quickly.

After making dinner, she was once again sitting with Adam. She was exhausted. As a precaution she had confiscated the key to the drug cabinet. She knew the nurses were not pleased about that, but she felt compelled to take all possible steps to ensure the safety of her patients. The night nurses had been warned to listen for any unusual sounds or any occurrences whatsoever out of the ordinary.

Dr. Bentley had come to re-bandage Adam’s wrist, and Sheriff Lemler had posted four armed guards around the safe house all night. Emmaline blessed them for their assistance. She herself sat in a rocker in Adam’s room, a crocheted blanket tucked around her shoulders. In her hand, under the blanket, she held a loaded derringer pistol. Adam hadn’t stirred yet, and he had to be protected. He wasn’t able to do it for himself.

Late in the night, with Emmaline asleep in the rocker, Adam began to stir. He restlessly shifted those parts of his body he knew he could move, and was surprised to feel a sharp sting of pain travel up his unbroken arm. He tried to hold it up in the darkness to look at it, but he was unable to lift it more than a few inches. The pain was strong. He felt more lucid than he had in days, but his mouth felt like dry cotton. Turning his head, he saw that someone was there with him. Emmaline, sleeping. He tried to get her attention, but his voice was little more than a croak.

“Emmal…” he stopped because that much effort was exhausting. What was wrong with him?

He lay quietly for some time, dozing and then waking when his stomach growled. He tensed automatically when the doorknob rattled and turned, but it was the night nurse on rounds. She opened the door and entered quietly, holding a lantern. She was surprised to see him awake. She moved close to him and felt his forehead. She seemed satisfied. She finally heard his request for water, barely whispered. She poured it into a beautiful cut crystal glass. It looked better to him than anything he’d ever seen before. She slipped an arm beneath his neck to help him raise his head to drink it, and cautioned him to go slow. Of course he didn’t, and got himself into a coughing fit. This awoke Emmaline, who was instantly at his side with the derringer in her hand.

The night nurse withdrew quietly and Emmaline pulled her chair close to Adam. When he caught his breath, he looked from her to the derringer, clearly confused.

“Don’t shoot,” he whispered.

Emmaline smiled and bent to kiss him lightly. Then she told him what had happened at Safe Harbor over the past three, going on four, days. No wonder he felt weak as a kitten; he’d almost bled to death while in a drugged state. Emmaline assured him that all precautions were being taken for him, including the pending arrival of his family. But she made sure he understood that he was in danger. She very gently reached over and grasped the fingers of his “good” hand, holding them lightly. He badly needed a shave now, she thought absently, but no matter, to her he was beautiful however he looked.

Adam made the effort to speak. “What did Davis say?”

“Davis?” Emmaline paused, then stopped. Davis? “Davis hasn’t been here,” she said, suddenly realizing the oddity of that. He had come once after the initial injury, but only Adam’s fellow Rangers had been here since his wrist was cut.

Adam looked at her steadily for a long time. Finally he whispered, “It’s Davis.”

Emmaline didn’t fully understand everything he meant by that, but there was a sadness in his eyes. He was telling her that Davis was behind everything that had happened. She still didn’t understand, even when he whispered, “Texas Ranger.”

Adam drank more water after that, but couldn’t stay awake to eat anything. Parting the window curtains, Emmaline could see the purple light of dawn coloring the sky. She had a nurse come in to sit with Adam while she went to the kitchen to begin breakfast. The whirlwind of events was running through her head. All the pieces weren’t in place, though. Adam, even in his precarious state, understood it better than she did. Hamilton went to the smokehouse for her to get bacon, and she began to mix batter for flapjacks. Maybe as a treat today, she’d get to change her clothes.

End of Chapter VIII

Ben Cartwright answered the door and took the message that was handed to him. He thanked the boy, and although he would normally have given him a nickel for his trouble, there hadn’t been anything normal about Ben’s life ever since he’d received word that Adam had died in the service of the Nevada Rangers fighting against drifters from the Confederate States of America. His face void of expression, and his eyes dull, he heaved a long sigh and sat down to read the message that had come from Carson City. But as he read it, and then re-read it, he gave a start and jumped to his feet. God bless Emmaline Gilbert.

“Hoss! Joe! Come quickly. Adam is alive! We’ve got to hurry!”

*******

Emmaline began feeding Adam as soon as he could stay awake long enough to do his part. Dr. Bentley said to begin with broth and slowly add solids. Adam was eager, though and he breezed through broth and directly into solids within a day and a half. There had been no further incidences of food poisoning. Adam was beginning to become irritated by the casts, which Emmaline took as a good sign. He was careful with his bandaged wrist because he didn’t want to start a re-bleed, although the good stitches Dr. Bentley had put in made that unlikely. Without the sabotage that he attributed to Davis, Adam resumed his recovery. Sheriff Lemler kept the guards on duty at night and Emmaline bought a new copy of Twelfth Night, which she read to Adam in afternoons and evenings.

Ben Cartwright had wired that he and his sons would start out for Carson City immediately, bringing a wagon that would be able to transport Adam home. Emmaline knew that every time he heard the sound of someone coming or going, he held his breath, hoping it was his family arriving for him.

Three days after she sent the wire to the Cartwrights, Safe Harbor received visitors. It was right after dinner, and although the nurses on duty tried to discourage it, two visitors for Adam strode determinedly to his room to greet him. Emmaline had been reading Twelfth Night, but stopped in mid-sentence and sat up straight when Col. Wagner and Rob Davis appeared cheerily in the room.

“Cartwright, good to see you. I’m sorry we haven’t been here to see you sooner. So sorry about everything you’ve suffered,” Col. Wagner began. “Although being a Ranger can be dangerous, we certainly didn’t envision this for you.”

Davis grinned. “Cartwright’s made of strong stuff, fortunately. How long before you’re back with us?”

Adam smiled slightly. “Not as soon as I’d like. Gotta get out of these casts first.” He was warily watching each man. Was Wagner in on this with Davis? He didn’t know.

“Well, we’ll be ready for you as soon as you’re well,” Davis let this vague threat hang in the air between them, although Wagner seemed not to notice it. How had Davis played his part so convincingly for so long, Adam wondered.

“We were amazed to hear about that wrist slashing,” Davis continued, taking a step further into the room. “Hard to believe that someone would take a knife and assault you with it when you were already so injured,” Davis reached into his vest and pulled out a knife that was larger than the one used in the first attack. “Maybe someone just needed you out of the way.” He took another step toward Adam, who tried to push himself up in bed even though he knew he’d never be able to escape Davis.

“Davis!” This shout of shock and disapproval came from Col. Wagner behind him. At the sound of Wagner pulling out his pistol and cocking it, Davis swiveled quickly and plunged the knife into the side of Wagner’s neck. Wagner hit the door and slid down it onto the floor, where his hands came up to cover the wound now bleeding in spurts. His eyes on Davis were wide with shock.

“You figured everything out, didn’t you, Cartwright? That night you killed Tucker. It was no accident that he “infiltrated” so easily. You stumbled smoothly onto our plan to completely destroy the capital of Nevada in return for going Union. You absolutely ruined it, and we can’t get it back together again for all the eyes watching us. It was flawless until you killed Tucker, our key man. And you’ve wondered how that huge piece of furniture came crashing down on you, haven’t you?” Davis stopped to smile, looking back in time. “It had a little help, yes it did. You were supposed to die, though, dammit, and instead you just got crushed. You don’t even die right when your wrist is slashed!” Now Davis was angry and his knife went slicing through the air at his last comment. This caused Emmaline to gasp and move back in her chair. Davis turned to her.

“Don’t worry, Miss Gilbert, this time I’ll get you too,” Davis was sneering at her.

“What was it, Davis, the Texas part?” Adam’s voice was very quiet.

Well, you’re a smart boy and a pretty boy,” Davis drawled. “What else would it be? Nevada wants to set up a state Ranger program, so it turns to the state that did it first and did it right, but forgets that state left the Union to join the Confederacy, and as a Union state, it still expects help from Texas!” Davis was laughing now, a sound that Emmaline would never forget. “It’s so simple: the Union destroys the Confederacy, and now the remains of the Confederacy destroy the Union.”

Col. Wagner, seriously injured on the floor, was listening to every word Davis spoke. Nurses had come running when they heard Wagner fall, but when they heard Davis’ words, they had stepped back slowly, some heading to see if the Sheriff’s guards had arrived yet for the night.

“Davis, you won’t get away with this. Sheriff Lemler has four guards here every night. Even if you get me, they’ll get you and your plans are over for good,” Adam was speaking in a low, reasonable voice.

“Someone will pick up the standard for me,” Davis said confidently, moving quickly now toward Adam. “Peters doesn’t let much stop him. Now, this will be over quickly. You may feel something, but once your throat is slashed, you’ll…” he stopped abruptly as Emmaline’s derringer was discharged through her pocket and blew a hole into the upper side of his chest. He went down, unmoving, the knife skittering across the floor.

And this was precisely when Dr. Bentley arrived with the Cartwrights. The nurses, hysterical, pulled him over to Col. Wagner, who was moved into a nearby room for examination. Little Joe and Hoss helped carry him. Ben Cartwright hurried into Adam’s room, stepping over Rob Davis and around Emmaline, whose face had dropped into her hands. Ben leaned over Adam, hands on his face, looking at him as one does a person come back from the dead. Adam promised a full explanation, but wanted information about Col. Wagner and he also wanted to look at Emmaline’s face.

He saw her pale face before he heard about Col Wagner. She responded to Ben Cartwright’s gentle, “Miss Gilbert?”

Looking up, she appeared dazed, with her eyes wet. She was older, but attractive, with very red hair that was pinned up loosely on her head. Her hands were shaking. Adam moved his good arm over slightly, and she reached for his fingers.

“You were right, Adam,” she said. “About the Texas part. You figured it out.

He was rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. It was over, at least his participation in it. He wondered what she would do now that her safe house had been exposed. That concerned him. He gave his father a condensed explanation of what had transpired, and then grinned to see his brothers enter the room. Hoss moved Rob Davis’ body so they could get closer to Adam, and Emmaline stood up. All the Cartwrights hugged her. They were very appreciative. But the one she really wanted to hug lay prone on the bed.

*******

The next morning, Gov. Nye and some of his staff visited Adam in his room. As it turned out, he had been living at the safe house for security purposes. The governor gave Adam a medal for meritorious service to the State of Nevada. The governor was heading that day for another location until Carson City could be secured. Adam was also visited by Tom Berger, Jay Wellman and Rudy Webb. They were dumbfounded by the story of the previous night, but grateful that Adam had survived. They wished him well and each received open invitations to the Ponderosa with no expiration date.

Col. Wagner had survived the night, which was a good sign. The location of his wound was toward the back of his neck. He couldn’t speak and was having some trouble breathing comfortably. Dr. Bentley would have to watch him closely. He had a reasonably good chance of recovering, but would need round the clock nursing care, and was being transported to Dr. Bentley’s office for at least a few weeks.

The Cartwrights had brought a sturdy and well padded wagon that Adam could lie in on the trip home. It had sides on it that they had elevated so that he could not be seen in it, just in case anyone was bent on carrying out Davis’ final mission. Just before Joe and Hoss carried him out to the wagon, Emmaline came to his room to say good bye. She smiled at him softly, but there was sadness in her expression. He thanked her for the going home shave she had given him that morning. She wished him a full recovery and hoped she would see him again one day.

Adam reached up his good hand and the backs of his fingers stroked her cheek. “You will,” he promised. With hands held longer than necessary, they let go, and then he was gone.

Emmaline took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure what she would do now. She no longer operated a safe house. She would have to give her future some serious thought. But she had reinvented herself before, and she could do it again.

End of Chapter IX

EPILOGUE

Adam spent months at the Ponderosa recovering under the care of Dr. Paul Martin, the physician who had seen the Cartwrights through many an injury. Dr. Martin did say, however, that he thought Adam’s case here had taken the cake for total number of injuries, most of which could have been fatal.

When he first saw his home again, the bunkhouse was almost rebuilt, smelling of fresh Ponderosa timber. Adam had to shake his head when he remembered that Davis had helped defend the Ponderosa from his own comrades in arms. Had that all been part of the careful deception? He had spent many hours wondering whether Gov. Nye had thought through what he was doing when he asked the Texas Rangers to help Nevada set up a law enforcement program based on its original one, especially since Texas has seceded from the Union in 1861. He would probably never know the answer to that question, he concluded.

Adam’s bones healed, and one by one, the casts came off. The removal of each leaden cast was cause for celebration and he reveled in the simple movement of an arm, the bending of a knee, the flexing of a hand. The wrist wound healed and left a white scar. Most of the time Adam’s shirt sleeves covered it, but he was surprised by how much its visibility made him uncomfortable. The wound that was the peskiest was the skull fracture, simply because Dr. Martin was so careful about it. He tiptoed around it like eggshells. Although Adam felt fine, Paul Martin didn’t want to authorize any activity that would unduly rattle his brain. Little Joe and Hoss joked that there was no cause to worry about the Yankee granite head, and yet, when a difficult task came along, they made sure they took care of it themselves. Even something as simple as riding his horse was potentially too addling for his head. It was frustrating, and Adam chafed, but in the end, he cooperated and allowed himself to be waited on and catered to. He and his father played endless hours of chess. Eventually even Dr. Martin yielded and agreed that sooner or later Adam would need to resume normal activities because there was no other way to really know if any significant brain injury had occurred, and thus far it appeared that none had.

*******

At Safe Harbor, Miss Emmaline, now living alone with one nurse and one house maid received an unusual request from Sheriff Lemler. A young woman had been abducted during the raid on Mount Montgomery three months ago. She had been held by the Rebels and had been abused. She had been rescued by the Rangers, and she had a family to return to in Mount Montgomery. But she needed time to rest, recover and heal. Would Miss Emmaline consider allowing her to recover at Safe Harbor? Miss Emmaline needed no time to consider this request. Send her immediately, she responded.

The young woman who appeared was exhausted, abused and terrified. Miss Emmaline fed her well, sat with her during the day, read Shakespeare to her, and talked her ear off while she did various types of needlework. On warm days they walked through the woods together and collected wildflowers. After six weeks, Miss Emmaline accompanied her to Mount Montgomery where she was reunited with her family. It would be a slow adjustment, but a standing invitation to return to Safe Harbor at any time was extended as they parted.

*******

Four and a half months after returning home, Adam had resumed full activities. The Nevada Rangers continued to grow and perform their duties. The Southern rebels had been driven out of Carson City, the capital they had wanted to destroy out of vengeance. They had lost a lot of their organization when Davis died, but they moved to northern Nevada and continued to cause various woes across the state, led by the bitter Peters. Word had come several weeks after Adam’s return to the Ponderosa that Col. Wagner had died of the neck wound inflicted by Davis. Adam mourned silently. He knew the Colonel had probably fought valiantly to survive, and was glad that in the end Wagner had not turned out to be part of Davis’ scheme.

In September he packed some gear and took Sport for a lone trip to Carson City. He had some unfinished business there, he explained to his family, assuring them it was nonviolent and strictly personal. They would rather that he stayed home, but Adam thought his father understood. Too much had happened to him there to leave any loose ends. He promised them he would be careful and would keep a low profile, just in case any hangers-on wanted to take a pot shot at him.

He took his time traveling. Mostly he let Sport meander, and they took a lot of back roads up and down hills. Other times he let out the reins and the horse galloped freely. Adam discovered that his brain stayed where it was supposed to be during those times.

Instead of passing through Carson City, he circled around it and up into the hills. It was very quiet and pretty here. He rode for a day before finding what he was looking for. It was a large, rambling dwelling, made mostly of logs, with a wide front porch and large windows to catch the light and the cool mountain breezes. It would be a challenge for most people to find, he decided. Dismounting, he walked up the porch steps and knocked on the door.

A house maid in a starched white cap answered the door, and looked doubtful when Adam made his request. This was quite unusual. Few people stopped by here. It was quite out of the way. Nevertheless, she opened the door and asked him to wait in the study. He heard her padding up some stairs to see if his request would be successful. He didn’t sit. He leaned against the open archway from the entry to the study. He smiled when he heard voices. He had won.

“What on earth…” was the first thing he heard, followed by the explanation from the house maid that she didn’t know anything further.

Then suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, there she stood. Bright red hair done in a labyrinth of curlicues and ringlets that were pinned up, and a startling pink dress that looked as though it had been expensive. Just at first she didn’t recognize him, because she had never seen him standing upright without multiple casts. But there he was, smiling at her like the cat that ate the cream, black hat low on his dark head allowing just enough room for his eyes to appreciate her full figure. She wasn’t used to seeing him freshly shaved, wearing all black, leaning against the archway with one knee bent and his arms crossed, holster slung around his hip, wearing a tan jacket against the early autumn chill. So casual. So elegant. Her breath caught and one hand covered her mouth.

“I came to say thank you.”

The slightest of smiles turned her lips and she shook her head at him slowly.

“To someone who saved my life.”

“And to ask someone named Miss Emmaline to finish reading me a story called Twelfth Night.”

She laughed out loud at that.

“And to ask the same Miss Emmaline if I could give her a proper kiss and hold her in my arms.” He paused. “But only in a safe house.”

She walked a few steps toward him. “Well, I always have known a good offer when I heard one. And the last time I checked, this was the safest place around.”

His arms reached out for her, and hers went around him, underneath his jacket. His head bent down and hers tipped back. Their lips met.

And that was the beginning.

THE END

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