Summary: Adam and Mary Lynn search for their missing son, Nolan. Adam’s spirits flag, but his wife insists her son is alive. This is the fifth story in my Adam/Hoss/Joe “Destiny” series.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Bonanza or its characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
belauger@msn.com

The Homecoming - Part II

The injury was what the mountain man had feared, a skull fracture. The boy didn’t need that on top of everything else. The left side of his body was already purple and there were at least three broken ribs. That was painful enough by itself. Worse yet, although the compound fracture in his left leg had set easily enough, the skin laceration around it had become infected. The man was keeping it as clean as he could, and he changed the dressing twice a day, which he was doing right now.

He gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered finding the boy. Going from car to car at the accident scene, peering inside each one with his lantern, this patient was hard to ignore. Draped over one of the bench seats of the train such that his head hung down toward the ground, the first thing that could be seen was the white flash of bone. And then his knee above it. With the tibia exposed, the leg was swinging back and forth by its muscle tissue, dripping blood. Periodically the mountain man could see the blunt end of the tibia that was still where it was supposed to be inside the leg. Almost certainly the tibial artery had been severed. That had to be fixed, but he would not likely die from it. At least not right away. The man looked up and down the length of the car. He saw two people at the front struggling to get to their feet. They were ambulatory, he guessed. Using the hammer he’d brought with him, he broke through the window glass and lowered himself into the car, turned over on its side. Moving cautiously, he noticed a young woman in a black coat several seats down from the tibial fracture. She was lying against the broken windows, now the ground, basically. She appeared to be curled up sleeping. There was a superficial cut on her cheek and her arm lay at an angle that indicated to him that it was broken, but there was no blood that he could find.

As he turned back to the boy, trying to figure how in heck to get him out of the car, he saw a uniformed railroad employee outside the car, checking for injuries just he had been. He hailed the man urgently and enlisted his help. The conductor lowered himself through the open window frame and gasped when he saw the injury. The mountain man was in no mood to mollycoddle the conductor, however; there was no time. He took a deep breath and told the ambulatory passengers in the front of the car to stay put until they were out, and then to see to the unconscious young woman, making sure all three of them got out. He told them to go toward the front of the train. When they nodded their comprehension, he addressed the conductor.

“Train Man, we gotta get this kid out that window you came through without injuring him more than he already is. I’ll carry his upper body if you can support his legs. Try to keep both legs straight and don’t pay any attention to whatever noise he makes, because he’s gonna start real soon.” The mountain man held up his lantern to look at the conductor, whose expression was one of terror, even though his head was bobbing up and down.

The mountain man started by getting behind the bench where the unconscious victim lay, reaching down to slide his arms underneath the boy’s shoulders and back. He raised him slightly and expelled a breath.

“This ain’t no boy. This is a six foot man,” he grunted, indicating with his head for the conductor to lift his legs. As soon as this happened, the injured man began to struggle and moan.

“Keep goin’, and if you see any able bodied person out there, get ‘em in here. We need a third person,” the mountain man muttered to the conductor as he fought to keep his grip while the injured man moved restlessly.

Inasmuch as they were moving straight up with the bleeding train passenger, the exit was slow and excruciating. The conductor found his hands and coat covered with slippery blood, which hampered his movement and left him in anguish that he would drop the young man. The mountain man bore the brunt of gravity as the bulk of the patient’s weight slid down to him as he was moved upward. He was also closest to his face, which was now emitting screams of agony.

As the conductor struggled to reach the open window frame, he realized there would not be enough room to get himself and the man’s legs out at the same time. He needed two windows side by side, or a third person outside waiting to take the victim. He stopped, breathing heavily from his exertion, but peering outside, on the lookout for an able bodied helper. Finding none, he briefly explained the dilemma to the mountain man, who very slowly and gingerly extracted his hammer from a back pocket. He passed it to the conductor whose bloody grasp on it was tenuous. The screams grew louder as the conductor used one arm to grasp the legs tighter against his body while he stretched to beat at the nearest window with the hammer.

At last the agonizing screams brought along two men who assisted in the extrication of the young man. They stood out on the train’s side and received his legs, which emerged first while the conductor scrambled out the new opening he had created. Then the three of them carefully managed to uphold the man’s entire body after the mountain man carefully eased it out and followed out the exit the conductor had just taken. For a minute the five men stood there in the freezing January night air, in the Rocky Mountains, holding the passenger’s injured body, watching the wreckage and chaos around them. The scene was hellish, even at night. Then the mountain man spurred them back into action, moving carefully toward the front of the train, stepping along the side of the car.

When they reached the open gap between cars, they realized they were going to need a litter or a large board, but there was none to be had. So they did what had to be done. They moved him to the ground, which was not as drastic a move as they had already made, but the decline was sharp enough that it renewed his screams, which had temporarily dwindled. They began a slow march toward a bonfire which had been started at the front of the train. They laid him in the snow near the fire for whatever warmth he might receive. He was still moving, now grasping at his leg with both hands, which came away bloody. The mountain man crouched beside him and held his wrists.

“Boy, don’t touch the bone, it’ll be better that way.” The suggestion wasn’t noted by the patient. The mountain man left and returned with a heavy stick that he tied to the broken leg as a makeshift split.

His screams had attracted a circle of the curious, and the mountain man moved away to the place he had left his horse. A black leather bag was attached to the back of the saddle, and he removed it and returned to his patient.

He knew this area like the back of his hand, but in case he hadn’t, he thought grimly that he could just follow the torturous screams. Once the young man got going, he couldn’t seem to stop, and now he was shivering too. The bloody conductor was kneeling nearby, trying in a futile manner to help somehow. He made way for the mountain man, who set the bag down and removed a brown glass vial from it. He grasped the young man’s jaw and dribbled a small amount of liquid into his mouth. He grimaced but swallowed, and as the bitter medicine went down he began to cough.

The mountain man turned to the conductor. “I have a place nearby. I’ll take him there to set the leg. I was a doctor in the War.”

The conductor watched as the young man was picked up again. He waited for the screams to start again, but saw his eyes roll back and his head fall back limply against the doctor’s arm. The mountain doctor began to walk toward his horse.

“Do you want me to try to find any of his belongings in the railroad car?” He called after them anxiously.

The mountain man turned. “No, you won’t know what’s his and what isn’t, and everything’s scattered to the wind anyway. Thanks for your help, Train Man, you probably helped save his life.”

As he plodded steadily along, his horse following behind, the mountain man looked down at his patient. “Tibia, I hope what I told Train Man was right. If I don’t get you taken care of soon, I don’t know what’s gonna happen to you.”

***

Adam Cartwright stood woodenly in John Granger’s office. He looked out the window, not seeing through the glass. “I have to go home. I have to tell Mary Lynn about this.”

“Adam, do you think you should try to get additional information from the Central Pacific Railroad before you go? They didn’t say much and you’re going to need to know more.”

Distracted, Adam looked at his attorney. “Will you do that for me, John? I’m the one who brought Nolan home for Christmas, and if it weren’t for me, he’d be safe at school right now. I need to get home,” and he was walking out the door even as John Granger was agreeing to investigate further.

Riding home, Adam didn’t even feel the cold. He held Sport’s reins in bare hands even though he had heavy black leather gloves in his pockets. He let the horse move at this own pace while he stared straight ahead, seeing his son’s face in his mind but feeling the hollow enormity of grief. When he got back to the Ponderosa, he took Sport into the barn and stayed there a long time. One or two ranch hands had come in and out, but they hadn’t disturbed him. He stood by Pegasus, stroking his back, and finally resting his forehead against the horse’s neck. He didn’t know what he would say to Mary Lynn, or what she would say to him. He stood rooted to the barn floor until a red faced Logan came in with his black horse, Rocket.

“Whew, that wind is wicked today,” he commented, leading his horse to the stall next to Pegasus. “Hi, Dad, how was everything in town?”

Adam did not, could not, answer. If he looked at Logan he would drown in the grief he was attempting to hold at bay. He heard his son taking care of his horse, but when he heard the other stall door close, he knew it could not be put off much longer.

“Dad? Is everything okay?” Logan was standing outside Pegasus’ stall, sensing trouble. His father would not simply stand by his brother’s horse, holding onto him like that.

Adam was still dry eyed. He looked briefly at Logan, let his eyes close, and pulled the telegram out of his pocket. After a few moments a strangled sound came from Logan.

“No…Dad? What does this mean? Dad?” He opened the stall and came closer, beginning to understand why his father stood by Nolan’s horse.

In his intensely logical way, Adam tried to explain. “It means there was some sort of train accident in the…in the…Rocky Mountains. Eighty-three people were hurt and they have not found…not found…” he broke off, unable to continue.

“NO! That can’t be! NO!” Logan shouted. “He was just here, he’s fine.” He looked at his father, who finally looked right at him, which meant he was also looking at Nolan. He was finally overcome by the wall of misery, reaching out to his son, who grabbed him and held on tight while his father wept silently.

Logan didn’t know how long they stood that way, but Hoss eventually came into the barn, followed by Eric, and the news had to be told. Hoss was dumbstruck, and Eric hung his head in sorrow. Adam tried to regain his composure because the worst was yet to come. He had to be strong for his wife, who might hate him since he had caused this to happen. After a few more minutes, Adam used a neckerchief to dry his face and he left the barn alone to see his wife. There was silence in the barn as the three men looked at each other mutely.

Adam found her in their room, fixing her hair. She smiled briefly at him through a mouthful of hairpins. All the children were still in school, so at least there would be privacy, he thought. He hadn’t bothered to take off his coat or hat, and he went to the window, waiting until she was finished. She was only seconds tucking the pins where they needed to be, and then she turned to him and he turned to her. Instantly she read the sadness on his face and she went directly to him, taking his face in her hands.

“Adam?”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Mary Lynn, there’s been an accident.”

She frowned. “What kind? What happened? Something in town?”

He shook his head. “No, not in town,” he paused, searching for words. His mouth was open, but he couldn’t speak.

She took his arm and led him to their bed, where they both sat. “Is it your father? Is Ben all right?”

Once again he pulled out the telegram, but knew he couldn’t just hand it to her. His hand closed over it. “Pa’s fine.”

“Adam, just tell me. Do we need to do something?”

“Yes, I don’t know. There was an accident,” he paused again, feeling his heart pound heavily. “A train accident. Nolan’s train…” he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at the condemnation in the eyes of the person he loved most.

Her hands were on her cheeks then as she breathed, “Oh, no. Please, no.” She grabbed his hand and he let her have the crumpled telegram. She looked at it for a long time before looking up again, her face pale.

“It says missing, Adam, missing. It doesn’t say dead.” She grabbed his arms and squeezed with all her might as tears spilled out of his eyes.

“They don’t know,” he said, almost whispering. “It happened in the Rocky Mountains. There must have been snow.” He didn’t say it was the worst place he could think of for a train accident to occur.

“We need more information. There must be more. Where did they take the injured people? Someone must have seen him before the accident. Someone must know something,” she was insistent, shaking him as she spoke, her gaze boring into his.

“John is trying to find out more. I left to come home. To tell you,” he swallowed hard and watched her.

She pulled away and sat silently on the bed, looking at her hands in her lap. They didn’t speak. After several minutes a tear splashed onto her hands, and then another, quietly. Why didn’t she scream, he wondered. She should be shaking the rafters with her grief. He watched her silently, his heart breaking into pieces that died as they dropped away.

“Sweet Nolan, my baby,” her voice was shaky. “So sweet. Oh Nolan, where are you?” She looked at Adam and saw the raw pain in his face. She reached out to him and he grabbed her close. They rocked together silently until they heard the children’s school wagon return about fifteen minutes later. Hoss must have taken them in hand, because there was no loud burst of voices through the door, and no mad rush up the stairs. They would have to be told, and soon, but this short time was preserved just for Adam and Mary Lynn.

*** End of Chapter 1

The mountain doctor had carried Nolan a half mile along a winding, upward path to a level area where a crude log cabin stood. Pushing through the door, he was relieved to set his burden down on the single bed in the single room of the dwelling. It was warm, at least, and he moved to put a log on the fire, which had burned down while he was away. He left the cabin briefly to retrieve his black bag and secure the horse to the post near the door. The horse would be all right in the cold; he was sturdy. When he could, the doctor would put him away in the small barn behind the cabin.

The first order of business was to set the broken bone. Tibia was still out cold, but that wouldn’t last forever. Lighting three lanterns, he set them on stools and overturned buckets around the bed to give him light. Not satisfied with the result, he moved everything around by swinging the end of the bed toward the fireplace, which cast substantially more light. Then he brought the lanterns close again. He undressed his patient, cutting off his pants. His clothes were wet anyway and he needed to be examined for further injuries. In one quick afterthought, he grabbed the jacket he had removed and went through its pockets for any identifying information. He found one scrap of paper with the name “Karen Gregory” on it and an address in New York, written in a feminine script. He checked the pants as well, finding nothing. He turned back to his patient. He was concerned about Tibia’s hips, but decided to wait until the leg was set before checking. If he had a broken hip as well, he was outside the doctor’s ability to treat him, but that thought was brushed aside for now.

Washing away as much blood as he could, the doctor examined the leg for a severed tibial artery. He found it torn but not severed. That was a stroke of luck. He would suture it. In this rough setting he laid out everything he would need on a clean towel. He washed his own hands and managed to place two sutures side by side in the artery. He hadn’t done anything close to this since the War. Now he only doctored himself and Pete, the horse. Still, he remembered what to do.

Setting the bone was more complicated. He tied Tibia’s wrists and one ankle to three of the bedposts and positioned himself at the end of the bed. When he had worked up the guts to do the job, he grasped the young man’s lower leg and ankle. Pulling down on it quickly, he guided the bone back inside the leg. As expected, Tibia objected mightily through his stupor, shouting his pain through the roof and into the heavens. Feeling sweat roll into his eyes, the doctor thanked the Lord it had worked with one yank. Next he probed through the lacerated flesh to make sure the arterial sutures had remained intact, and that the bone connection was a proper fit. Both were positive, although at least two bone fragments were missing. He hoped these would grow back as the break healed. With a little help from above, Tibia would walk without a limp. A lot of that depended on his hips, though. Finally he sutured the laceration around most of the leg, but only after he had administered more laudanum. Before splinting the leg with two flat, clean pieces of wood, the doctor poured whiskey over the wound, and Tibia hardly even moaned. Grimly the doctor smiled to himself. Usually he used the whiskey to erase the hideous memories of the War, but tonight he’d used it for a nobler purpose. The leg was bandaged, splinted, and wrapped tightly with clean cloth.

The doctor sat back and admired his handiwork. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and took a long draught of the whiskey. What had prompted him to go to the accident scene? Having heard the wreck when it happened, he could simply have turned over in his warm bed and gone back to sleep. He knew exactly where to go, however; he had worked on the Central Pacific crew that built the trestle. Anything but doctoring would do back then. He had not treated a real patient since the War, and that was the way he wanted it. That’s why he lived in these Godforsaken mountains. He wanted to forget. He almost chuckled; it would have been easier to cut off Tibia’s leg than go to the lengths he went to tonight. In the War, legs were cut off. Arms were cut off. But time had passed; almost 20 years. Had the oath he had taken to become a doctor revived itself in his soul? He hadn’t thought. He had just gone. And something about Tibia pulled at him. Maybe because he was very much like the thousands of boy-men who had died gruesomely in that War. He didn’t know. He drank more whiskey and went back to work. Hips were next on his mind.

***

A blanket of near silence had settled over the Ponderosa. Since learning about the accident, the Cartwrights did very little talking; only what was necessary to basic living and working. No after-dinner conversations. No loud games for the children. Next to no smiles. Hop Sing could often be found in the kitchen wiping his eyes. Logan went about his ranch work with tears flowing freely down his face, which created raw skin in the January wind. Hoss was forced to put liniment on his nephew’s face; telling him to stop mourning was not an option.

Joe went about his timber work with his mouth set in a grim line. Hoss’ bright blue eyes showed a great sadness. Erin, Amy and Elizabeth dabbed at their eyes continually. Adam wanted to retreat somewhere far away where he couldn’t be found, much as he had done when he had worried over Mary Lynn’s pregnancy with Elizabeth eighteen years ago. But he couldn’t. He had to live and be strong for his family. Mary Lynn was quiet but determined. Like a bull dog, she persisted with questions and demands for answers from the railroad.

John Granger had come to the Ponderosa on January 6 to report that the accident had occurred in the Great Divide Basin in the Rocky Mountains, 15 miles from the small town of Rock Springs, Wyoming. There had been snow that night. The train slowed down, but ice formed on the rails and after almost completing passage across a tall trestle, the last two cars of the train had collided and derailed, falling into the canyon below. A third car had also fallen, while five had turned onto their sides. This included the car that Nolan was riding in. The conductor’s records showed that he had been riding in car #17, but he was not found there on subsequent searches. But that piece of information was largely meaningless since many people had escaped the cars on their own or with the help of others. Some had wandered away in shock. Twenty-seven people had perished in the cars that fell into the canyon. Some had also perished in the overturned cars, but the railroad did not have an accurate number of those to release.

Many of the injured had been transported to Rock Springs, where they had been disbursed into the town’s church, or private homes, since the town was hardly more than a settlement and didn’t even have its own doctor. When stabilized, many of the injured would be moved to Cheyenne, where medical care was more readily available for them.

Mary Lynn had stood up then. “We’re going to Rock Springs,” she announced. “We’ll go from house to house if we have to.”

John Granger cleared his throat. “Mary Lynn, the Central Pacific has temporarily suspended service over the Rocky Mountains. They need to recover the cars and the dead.” He stumbled over the last word. “There is also damage to the trestle that has to be repaired. One or more of the falling cars came into contact with the trestle. The crews will be put to work within the next few days, but as you might imagine, getting down into that canyon will be a difficult job.” He cleared his throat again. This was most uncomfortable.

Mary Lynn looked at him helplessly and Adam slumped in his chair.

“There has to be another way to get to Rock Springs, even if we have to take another train out of our way and rent a carriage.”

“That’s a possibility,” John said weakly. “I could look into that.”

“Do it, please, John. If our son is injured somewhere, he needs our help. Please hurry.”

Adam had been rubbing his jaw throughout this exchange, and when he met his father’s eyes, his own were swimming in unshed tears. He got up and moved over to the fireplace, bracing his hands on the mantle and staring at the flames. His father got up and went to put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him close.

As the family began to drift away to other duties, Mary Lynn continued discussing options with Mr. Granger. She suggested taking some other form of transportation and following another route to Rock Springs. She stood tall and dry-eyed. She had a plan and a mission. She would not give up her son without proof that she should, and she knew without a doubt that she would pursue him with more diligence than the railroad would.

***

“C’mon, Tib, open up for me. You need this broth to get better. It’s squirrel, but it’s good. You been out for four days and I gotta get this in you,” the man had propped him up carefully with pillows and was pushing a spoon between his lips.

Tim, that must be his name, he thought, because the man kept saying it to him. Tim couldn’t remember, though. Did he have a last name? He just knew that he hurt all over. His leg, his ribs, and his head, oh Lord, his head. He cooperated with the man, who had been leaning over him whenever he opened his eyes. He let the broth in and swallowed it. It was passable. He took some more, wondering where he was and what had happened to him.

Now look, Tib, I’m Tom Walters, an’ I been takin’ care of you since the accident. You call me Tom. I figure after all we been through so far we’re on a first name basis. I hope you’re followin’ along with me here. You have a bad broken leg that’s got itself infected, you’ve got broken ribs, and you got a skull fracture. You’re gonna be here a while, but it’s your good luck I’m a doctor. Believe it or not, that’s the truth. Served in the War, which is why I got myself as far away from civilization as I could. If you got a family, you need to tell me. They must be in a state over you by now,” he stopped talking and sat back. Tib’s eyes were starting to close again, but Tom had been feeding him throughout his speech. This was the first time Tib had been conscious enough to eat or comprehend anything. As he slipped back into safe, black sleep, Tim wondered who Tib, Tim and Tom were.

Tom realized he’d lost his patient to sleep and he carefully eased him down flat on the bed. He brushed hair off Tib’s forehead with one hand. He was certainly a handsome young man with his dark hair, muscular body and cleft chin. A black stubble of beard covered his face. Tom would have to shave him soon, and bathe him too. He had been more worried about the infection in the skin around his broken leg. He had been disinfecting it, washing it and changing the dressing more frequently, but it still had an angry red look to it. He really didn’t want Tib to lose the leg. It might be more than he could suffer at this point. The skull fracture—mostly conjecture on his part—was beyond his medical ken. He was a basic Army surgeon, but he knew enough to recognize the signs of what he feared, and he had been consulting his medical books every day since he’d brought Tib home.

Later that day Tib was thrashing in bed. Tom made a face; a man couldn’t really thrash with one leg disabled, but Tib was making a good effort. Touching his face, Tom realized his fever had spiked. It had been going up and down as his body fought the infection in his leg. Tom had been so careful with that leg too, he was disheartened when the fever developed. It had been four days, and Tom wasn’t willing to risk much more since Tib’s body had other injuries to cope with. With a heavy sigh, he sat next to Tib and administered some more laudanum, just enough to quiet him. Unwrapping the heavy dressing designed to keep the leg immobile, Tom examined the swollen red flesh. It was hot to the touch and hard. His careful sutures lay below the puffy flesh. It was time for him to take action, and he only knew one thing to do. Half muttering to himself, he once again assembled his surgical instruments. When all was in order, he used a scalpel to make an inch long incision in the red skin. Blood and infected matter began to drain. He helped it along gently, glad that Tib was out cold again. After a slow and deliberate process, he repeated the same thing on the back of Tib’s leg. He finished by placing sutures in each incision, disinfecting with whiskey and wrapping the whole wound site with fresh, clean, soft cloth. When Tib was covered comfortably once again, Tom cleaned and stored his instruments. Then he grabbed the whiskey, left the cabin and stood outside, breathing the icy cold air, and draining the bottle.

***

Mary Lynn had learned that the Union Pacific Railroad operated through Ogden, Utah into Wyoming—Cheyenne, Laramie, Green River and Evanston—before it moved on through Colorado Territory and east. She and Adam could take the Central Pacific into northern Utah and then make their way to Ogden to catch the Union Pacific. It would take them to Cheyenne, where the Central Pacific planned to move the injured passengers now housed in Rock Springs.

Adam tried to point out to her that Utah and Wyoming were vast spaces of land with few towns, and that travel could be impossible in January. His wife was determined, however, and wasn’t listening to “no” from anyone. Joe, Hoss and Ben all tried to talk her out of rushing off into regions that could be dangerous. Erin and Amy were sympathetic, and sought to console Mary Lynn, who wasn’t having any consolation. Maybe one day she’d have to, but not now. She demanded maps, and Adam promised to take her to the schoolhouse to see if it had what she was looking for. Eli and Susannah offered to look at the school maps for her so she wouldn’t have to make a trip to town, but their mother hesitated. She didn’t fully trust anyone to assist her because no one but she was as impassioned about finding her son. Yes, Adam would be if he could, but he was emotionally crushed right now. And she just flat out refused to believe her son was dead until she was given proof.

Adam did sense the hurt in the eyes of his second set of twins, however. He told them to look up everything they could find about distance from places in northern Utah to Ogden, and then he and Mary Lynn would come to school at the end of the day to see what they had discovered. This brightened their outlook. They, like the other Cartwright children, had been feeling disconnected from their parents, and they weren’t sure how they should be acting. They cared, and they wanted to help. They were also sad and scared. Having something to do was infinitely more therapeutic for them than drifting from day to day in the unknown.

The unknown was what had crushed Adam so badly. He could hardly stand to look at Logan, who knew this and had thrown himself into ranch work, sometimes even eating and sleeping in the bunk house with the hands. Hoss, who knew that there were nights Logan worked in the barn until dawn, kept a careful eye on him. Despite their different personalities, Nolan and Logan had been as close as twins could be. Eli and Susannah, even with a very strong bond, weren’t the same way because they were boy and girl. Hoss knew his oldest nephew felt almost a physical pain at the loss of his brother.

A week after the arrival of the telegram, Mary Lynn was talking to Adam about making the trip to Wyoming. It was night and they had gone to bed and turned out the light. She was going over logistics she didn’t even understand, and Adam couldn’t bear to listen to it anymore. He wanted to be cocooned in the dark, alone. He reached out and grabbed his wife’s hand, holding it tightly. She stopped talking.

“Mary Lynn, please stop. We don’t know if what you’re proposing is even possible, and frankly, I don’t think it is at this time of year. We could wind up perishing ourselves. Please let it go, just for a while. I want him back too, but this is too much for me. We may have to wait until spring.”

Instantly she pulled her hand away from him. Tears burned her eyes. They were not tears of mourning, but of anger. She was transported back to the night she told him she was pregnant with Elizabeth. Her news had created so much fear that she might die, as she almost had with Nolan and Logan, that he had retreated into his own miserable world. They had virtually separated, and were not reunited until Elizabeth was three months old. In his fear and grief for Nolan, was he going to go back to that place where no one was able to reach him? Was she being anything but a practical mother in wanting to know her son’s fate?

“Adam, I just have to know what happened to him,” she said simply.

He sighed and she knew he was on his back staring at the ceiling. “I’m afraid to find out what that may be.”

There was a long silence between them, and then slowly they each turned away from each other in the bed. And, as it had been eighteen years ago, they lay awake for hours contemplating the unknown.

The following day, he took her to the school in Virginia City. They timed their arrival for the end of the school day. The teacher expressed her sympathy to them regarding Nolan. A number of people had done that, and it was disconcerting. Was it needed or not? Accepting it nevertheless, Adam and Mary Lynn found that Susannah and Eli had done their work well. Between the maps and the books in the school, as well as a little help from the teacher, they had been able to determine that the northwest corner of Utah was about 200 miles from Ogden. Everyone was quiet after this news was revealed. Of course it was not the information that was hoped for. If one train took them to northern Utah they would have to travel 200 miles on their own before reaching another train that could taken them to possible information about Nolan. Smiling tightly at the teacher, they took their leave, the children following dejected behind them.

Now even Mary Lynn realized that what she had hoped for was almost impossible. Would it be faster just to wait for the railroad to fix the trestle and reopen the Great Divide Basin? As they headed home, her thought focused on this single anchoring thought.

*** End of Chapter 2

Tom, who had taken to sleeping on a pallet next to Tibia, was awakened a few nights later by his voice. “Karen, I think it will be all right. The train seems to be steady now. Karen? Karen! Can you hear me? Where are you?” He ended in a shout, his head moving back and forth restlessly on the pillow.

Tom sat up quickly and reached up to feel his head. He was sweating, but he was not hot, thank goodness. The draining of the leg wound appeared to have pushed the infection toward resolution. There was no fever. Tib was having a nightmare, remembering the train accident. Quickly, Tom grabbed his hand to look for a wedding ring, something he had paid no attention to before now. He remembered that Karen Gregory was the name he had found on the scrap of paper in his jacket. Was Karen his wife? Had they been traveling together? Was she the young woman with the broken arm? There was no ring on either hand.

Tib quieted down and for a time seemed to sleep again. Tom sat up, an arm over one raised knee, watching the fire. The young man had eaten obediently the past few days, but he still slept a lot, a sign of the head injury. Skull fractures often caused bleeding in the brain, and pressure against the skull, even sudden death. Tom admitted to himself he didn’t know for sure if Tib had a skull fracture or a concussion. There had been a depression on the side of his head, the purple side, which lead Tom to suspect the fracture. Something had whacked him good, no doubt when he was thrown in the railroad car. If there was bleeding in his brain, there wasn’t much Tom could do about it. Keep him quiet, hope that the blood reabsorbed. Unless Tib became more coherent Tom would not be able to assess the degree of mental injury, if any. So far he had not spoken except for the dream just now.

Wondering about Tib’s future, Tom became aware that he was clutching the bedcovers in his hand. Was he still dreaming?

“Go, Peg, move! Logan, stop! Slow down. Logan, there could be ice… Ohhh, damn. Hurry, Peg, hurry.”

More dreaming. Tom hunted for a piece of paper and wrote down what Tib had said. He would repeat it to him as soon as he could to see if it was meaningful. Head injuries were so tricky. They caused sleepiness, dizziness, amnesia, confusion, loss of speech. They could persist for months or years, or they could resolve spontaneously within days. As Tom lay back on his pallet he thought about the years he had imprisoned himself on this mountain. He had achieved his goal, which was to get as far away as he could from humanity, to leave the gruesome killing behind, the stupid politics that resulted in wholesale killing of men and boys. But what advances had taken place in medicine while he had been hidden away? He had not treated patients, so until now he had never cared. What if there was a place that knew how to treat Tib’s injuries better than he did? Especially the head injury. He thought briefly about making a trip to Rock Springs, where he could send a telegraph message to his medical school for advice. That was an all day round trip, though, one he made twice a year for supplies—and not in winter. Tib couldn’t be left alone all day right now anyway, he thought, dismissing the idea.

The next day, in a flash of inspiration, Tom showed Tib a mirror when he was awake, hoping some kind of recognition would result. Tib studied himself in the mirror, felt his beard stubble, then looked at Tom, and back to the mirror. Finally he handed the mirror to Tom, finished.

But Tom persisted. “Do you know your name? What’s your name?”

Tib was quiet for a while before he responded, “Tim.”

“Tim? Your name is Tim? Do you have a last name? Another name after Tim? Like mine is Walters, Tom Walters. What’s your last name?”

“Walters.”

Tom watched him closely. Tib wasn’t playing games with him. He didn’t know how to at this point. Tom sat carefully on the bed next to him.

“Who is Karen? Do you know someone named Karen?”

Tib’s eyes moved slowly around the room. He said nothing.

“How about Peg or Logan. Do you know them? Are they friends of yours?”

Tom thought that a brief frown crossed Tib’s face. He stared at his covers, but said nothing. Tom sighed. He would try again another time. At least Tib was eating well and the purple side of him was turning green as the bruising slowly healed. His ribs were wrapped and didn’t appear to be causing him undue pain. Best of all, the infection in his leg was gone and the wound was also healing. The redness was all but gone, and the swelling had disappeared. Somewhere down the road, Tom would remove the stitches. Tib would always have a scar around his calf, but at least he would be able to walk. Tom had been unable to find any evidence of broken hips, which had removed a large concern of his, because that would have left Tib a cripple. Tom did not think Tib could have survived the surgical procedure that would have been required to make sure the hip was properly set. He would have had to let it heal its own way, which would probably have left Tib in pain for life. So physically Tom thought Tib would heal. He dearly hoped he would break through the skull fracture trauma. After all this, Tom wanted to know the person who Tib really was.

Later that day while Tib was sleeping, Tom picked through some wood in the barn after seeing to Pete. He planned to make a crutch for Tib to use when he was well enough try walking again. And that depended on his recovery from the head injury. But no harm in being ready ahead of time. While Tom was in the barn selecting wood, Tib was dreaming again. He wasn’t calling out, but he was seeing pictures that felt familiar. He saw a ranch with hills and pastures. Pine trees. There were horses, cattle, and a lot of people who lived in a big house. He felt like he knew them, and they were very nice to him. His mind struggled to bring their names forward but he couldn’t. One man was very big and tall. He was strong, but gentle. He spent a lot of time telling Tim jokes. There was a woman with blonde hair who hugged and kissed him. He liked her a lot and she smelled good. Another man was near her, and he seemed interested in Tim. He reminded Tim a lot of the face he’d seen in the mirror. When it was time to eat, an oriental man brought in dishes and dishes of wonderful food. He knew that place somehow, he thought. He came slowly awake, remembering the dream. Looking around the one room cabin, though, he was confused. This was a different place. Maybe the man here had taken him to the big ranch. Maybe he would ask him about it…sometime when he wasn’t so tired.

***

On January 18, two weeks after hearing about Nolan, Joe returned from Virginia City with news from John Granger. The Central Pacific Railroad anticipated resuming service over the Rocky Mountains on January 24. After crossing the Great Divide Basin, Adam and Mary Lynn would pass Rock Springs, traveling to the next scheduled stop in Cheyenne, more than 150 miles down the line, then technically operated by the Union Pacific Railroad. Special word was also sent from the president of the Central Pacific Railroad that if the Cartwrights explained their situation to the conductor, the train would stop in Rock Springs to let them disembark even though there was no station there. The train would also stop for them if they were at the track at some later date when it passed by on its way to Cheyenne if they wished to go there. Furthermore, an official from the Central Pacific would be aboard the train to discuss who had been confirmed dead, who was missing, and who was injured, as far as the railroad knew.

Mary Lynn grabbed Joe and kissed his cheek when he had finished his report. He smiled at her, glad to have brought a piece of information that made her happy, at least for now. His brother, Adam, who was sitting near the fire, having not gone back to work since the news came, looked over and met Mary Lynn’s eyes. She looked back, her eyes pleading.

“We can go, can’t we Adam? Soon?” She hurried over to him and knelt by his side, grasping his wrists desperately. It was as much contact as they had had in the past week.

He didn’t want to go; didn’t want to find out the worst, which he suspected. But he could not deny his wife this trip, this mother’s passionate mission.

“Yes, we can go, as soon as we can make the arrangements.”

She reached up then and put her arms around his neck, burying her face there. That’s when she began to cry tears of release. She had reached a point of critical mass and Joe’s news had broken through her reserves. She cried for Nolan, and for herself and Adam, and for Logan. As Adam gathered her on his lap, the other people in the room drifted away to allow them this moment of privacy. The ultimate news might not be good, but for them to come together like this was healing, and they allowed it to wash over themselves.

***

On January 27, Adam and Mary Lynn left Virginia City for Reno and the train that would take them to Rock Springs, Wyoming. Mr. Harold Stark from the Central Pacific would be aboard that train and he would ride with them as long as it took to convey the information he had. He had also arranged for them to stay at a boarding house in Rock Springs for as long as they needed to. In addition, there would be no charge for their rail travel on either the Central or Union Pacific lines.

They were the only passengers on the stage to Reno, and they said very little as the ride was rough and cold. They huddled together wrapped in blankets to keep warm and kept the canvas window covers buttoned. They were each lost in their own thoughts about what lay ahead.

At the train station in Reno, Mr. Stark had arranged for them to wait in a private room where refreshments were available for them. The train was not due for an hour, so they nibbled at the sandwiches and coffee while they waited. The train arrived ten minutes late, and as they moved onto the platform, Mr. Stark got off the train and found them. In no time a porter had loaded their bags and they were escorted to a private car by Mr. Stark. He was tall and bespectacled, with thinning hair. He looked to be about sixty. Wearing a dark three piece suit, he formally introduced himself and expressed his condolences to Mary Lynn and Adam. They sat down in plush seats in a car that was outfitted as a sitting area with a bar and round, polished oak table. They were first offered coffee, tea or any other drink they chose, but they declined.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright, did you bring along a photograph of your son?”

They had, knowing why that request had been made. The picture was of Nolan and Logan together. They handed it to Mr. Stark, who looked at it.

“Handsome boys,” he said graciously, and then stopped short, doing the standard double take. “They are twins?” The tone of his voice indicated he hoped the answer was no. “Well, they look like you Mr. Cartwright.”

“Thank you,” said Adam in a low voice, staring directly at the railroad executive.

Trying to put off the discomfiture the photograph had given him, Stark began with the statistics they already knew.

“There were 163 people on your son’s train on January 4, including the crew. Three cars fell from the trestle altogether, and 27 people perished in those cars. Your son was in car #17, and it was one of five that derailed and turned over. The accident happened at night so the only light available came from the lanterns that the crew had. Some of the passengers in the overturned cars were able to extricate themselves. Some stayed with the train, and some wandered off, apparently in shock. Three of them were located within the next twelve hours. Five passengers in the overturned cars perished. The engine of the train was dispatched 15 miles ahead to Rock Springs, Wyoming, which is a small town, but help was secured there and the train returned with help and equipment. All of the injured were taken to the church or private homes in Rock Springs, which does not have a doctor. It was the quickest help we could arrange for them. A doctor was brought in the next day from Cheyenne. In the meantime, when the sun came up, personal effects were gathered from the cars. We found your son’s bag along with some books.” At this, Mr. Stark stood and moved to a small door which proved to be a storage space when he pulled it open. He took out Nolan’s bag and three of his textbooks. He set them on the oak table they were sitting around.

Adam felt chilled to see his son’s bag and school textbooks. Mary Lynn looked as though her face was about to crumple when she saw her son’s signature on the inside cover of the books. They both took deep breaths. Mr. Stark opened the latch of Nolan’s bag and pulled out his wallet.

“We found your son’s wallet, with identifying information, in his bag. That’s what makes it difficult in his case to determine exactly where he is. For most of the people who perished, there was some identification on their person. At least the men.”

Adam took the wallet that was offered to him. He opened it and saw Nolan’s identification and also his money, still intact. He handed it to his wife who inspected it and then kept it tightly gripped in her hand.

“Some of the passengers who were cared for in Rock Springs have already been moved to Cheyenne. Some have been sent on their way. Most were able to tell us who they were. But not all. You are welcome to see the people who remain in Rock Springs, talk to them, but I’m told they have all been identified. That means we will take you to Cheyenne when you’re ready, to see those who were more seriously injured. Not all of them were able to speak for themselves,” he stopped and cleared his throat. “I must also tell you that because we have not come up with a complete count of 163, there is the possibility that when the snows melt, we will find the remains of one or more passengers who wandered away from the site.”

Everyone was silent for a few moments.

“May we have the picture back to show to the people we talk to?” Mary Lynn looked at Mr. Stark earnestly.

“Of course, but if you take it, then you should be sure you also go to the undertaker in Cheyenne and let him look at it. That’s where the people in the lost cars were taken.” He handed the photograph back across the table.

Adam leaned forward. “What about the crew? Can we talk to them? I’d like to show them this picture if we don’t find our son.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Most of them travel this route back and forth in different shifts. Some will be on this train now and you can talk to them before we reach Rock Springs. We know who was on duty that night, so if you miss anyone today, we’ll make sure you speak with everyone else who was on the train.”

“Thank you. You’ve been very considerate,” Mary Lynn whispered, her eyes shining suspiciously bright.

Mr. Stark put his hand over hers. “We are so very sorry. This is the worst disaster our railroad has suffered, and we are grieving over it in our own way, too. I will leave you alone for a while, but I will just be in the next car if you want me for any reason.”

When he had gone, Mary Lynn put her head in her arms on the table and wept. Seeing Nolan’s belongings had been her undoing. Adam felt the same, but he simply rubbed her back gently and placed his other arm around the bag on the table.

***

Tib had been with Tom for just over three weeks on January 27, and he continued to show signs of improvement. Although he slept more than usual for someone his age, he was now speaking in single words that generally made sense. He would, for example, sometimes tell Tom “hungry” or “tired.” Tom remembered with interest that when he heard Tib calling out during the night, he spoke in full sentences. He still did not remember who he was or where he came from, however. The leg was healing very well, as were the ribs, so Tom was taking the small steps of progress with the head injury as good news. He had gotten Tib up twice using the crutch he had made. The first time they tried it, they had taken several starter steps. First Tom had Tib sit by the edge of the bed to see if that made him dizzy. Tib appeared to understand what “dizzy” meant and he answered “no.” Then, very slowly, Tom helped him stand, propping the crutch under his arm. He reported no dizziness, but took longer to do so. Tom got himself under Tib’s arm on the uninjured side and they took three baby steps away from the bed. Turning around was more complicated, but after that was figured out, they took the three steps back. That was the extent of the first “outing.” The second had been easier, and Tib stayed on his feet longer. So every day there would be walking exercises, Tom decided.

Tib was feeding himself without trouble, and had been for a good week. One evening when they were having dinner, which they generally ate in bed or on pallet, Tom asked Tib who his favorite U.S. President was. Tib looked up and smiled. “Lincoln,” was his quick response, and was given in a tone of voice that indicated he had great respect for the martyred President. Tom smiled and nodded. So he remembered general knowledge. That was also a very good sign. Later Tom got out one of his medical books. He opened it randomly and pointed to a word.

“What’s that word?”

Tib paused and stared at it. “Cranium.”

“Good for you. Try this one.”

“Op... off… ophthalmitis.”

Tom squeezed Tib’s arm and smiled. That had been a hard word, so his mind was reasoning logically. Now he needed to connect words to form sentences, and remember who he was. It would happen in due time, Tom told himself, in due time.

*** End of Chapter 3

Harold Stark sent every crew member on the train into the private Cartwright car to talk with Adam and Mary Lynn. The ones they spoke with looked carefully at Nolan’s photograph, but either did not remember him or knew that they hadn’t seen him on the night of the accident. It was a frustrating experience. However, Stark was quick to remind them that not every crew member from January 4 was on the train right now. He had a list of those who still needed to speak with the Cartwrights.

When the train began its crossing over the Rocky Mountains, Mary Lynn became tense. Adam put his arm around her and held her hand, which she grasped tightly. She didn’t know if it was because she now feared another accident or because she was getting close to where something awful had happened to her son. Adam didn’t tell her that his stomach ached, but he was glad when Stark came back into their car. Harold Stark sensed that this might be a difficult passage for these parents, and hoped that his company might help in some small degree.

“How much further before we reach the trestle where the cars derailed?” This question came from Adam.

Stark pulled on an overhead cord and a crew member entered the car soon afterward. Stark put the question to him, and after consulting his records, the answer was returned. They would begin to cross that trestle in about twenty minutes. It would be dark, of course, as it had been on the 4th, but there was no snow falling. They both nodded mutely.

They had slept a little earlier on the trip, but they were wide awake now, just waiting. Adam realized they weren’t really waiting for anything, but sleeping seemed not only impossible but irreverent. A short time later Stark informed them that the train was on the trestle, and he sensed both of his reluctant guests stiffen. He also let them know when the train left the trestle, which meant they were at the accident point. Mary Lynn’s eyes closed and she bit her lip. Not very long after that, the train began to slow. They had reached Rock Springs. Their bags were brought and taken off the train, along with Nolan’s. A carriage was waiting for them. The railroad had thought of everything.

Stark got off the train first and helped Adam and Mary Lynn off in the dim lantern light. He was planning to escort them to the boarding house, and would also stay there overnight, catching a train back the next day. The ride to the boarding house was not long. The small town was close to the train tracks. It was all dark, but it appeared to be a one street town, although a light was shining in one window, the boardinghouse. The sign on the two story house simply read “Rock Springs Room & Board.” Carrying their bags, they found the front door unlocked. An older woman dozing in a chair woke on their arrival and gave them keys, pointing them to their rooms. The two rooms were on the first floor, next to each other. Before entering his room, Harold Stark gave Adam a sheet of paper. It contained the names and addresses of every house that had taken in an injured passenger after the accident. He also told Adam just to go to the livery whenever they were ready to catch the train to Cheyenne, and it would be arranged.

“In case I don’t see you in the morning, please know I am hoping for a happy outcome and I am praying for your son. Please contact me if I can assist you in any way in your search.”

“You’ve been wonderful. We thank you,” Mary Lynn assured him, feeling herself tear up again.

Inside their plainly furnished room, Adam and Mary Lynn were so tired they just set down their bags, took off their coats and the minimal amount of clothing to make sleeping comfortable. Then they crawled into bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.

When they awoke in the morning, they realized they had slept later than they intended. In their hurry to wash and change clothes, they began snapping at each other. Even at breakfast, which they ate alone because they were so late, they were irritable. Mrs. Kelly, the owner, tip-toed around them. They weren’t the first bereaved relatives of the train crash victims to stay in her boardinghouse. She had come to understand that moods could easily rise and fall with these people, and for good reason, poor souls.

Returning to their room for their coats before embarking on their search, Adam stopped his wife by putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Look, Mary Lynn, I’m sorry. I’ve been short with you, and I don’t mean to be. I think it has something to do with being in this town. Ever since we heard about the accident, there was nothing we could do, and now here we are, about to start an active search and possibly find our son. Part of me is excited, and another part is terrified. But I don’t want to argue with you, and I don’t ever want us to be pulled apart the way we were years ago.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

Mary Lynn sagged against him. “Adam, thank you for saying that. I feel exactly the same way. I just couldn’t put it into words. I feel as though we’re about to find him and so scared that we won’t, all at the same time.” She put her arms around him and hugged him back. “No more harsh words,” she said, and they both nodded.

Before leaving, Adam pulled out the piece of paper Mr. Stark had given him the night before. It showed where injured passengers had been taken. The church was listed. They sought out Mrs. Kelly to ask her about it. She told them that the church had been opened up as a hospital of sorts and had more patients there than any other single place. She agreed with Adam that it should be the first place they went to because a half dozen people still remained there. It was just a half block from the boardinghouse.

As they picked their way carefully over frozen mud and ice, Mary Lynn held tightly onto Adam’s arm. Rock Springs was indeed a one street town surrounded by mountains. It had the requisite saloon, bank, dry goods store, café, livery, jail, lumber mill, church and boardinghouse along with about two dozen homes that could be called anything from shacks to cabins to houses.

Walking up the few wooden steps to the church, there was a small entry, past which the pews had all been moved against the walls to make room for cots for injured people. They stood uncertainly at the front, their eyes taking a quick survey for anyone resembling Nolan, but not finding anyone. A man dressed in black was leaning over one of the cots. At the sound of the door opening, he stood up, and his cleric’s collar showed. The minister. Smiling, he came toward them and introduced himself.

“I’m Rev. John Westerhouse. Are you looking for someone? We’ve had so many come here over the past weeks searching for people.” He was a young man with a kind smile and a gracious way about him.

As Adam and Mary Lynn began their story, and showed Rev. Westerhouse Nolan’s photograph, they heard a startled gasp from the back of the church. They looked up quickly to see a tall young woman coming toward them. She wore a brown print dress and had curling, warm brown hair that hung down her back and over her shoulders. One arm was in a sling. She went directly to Adam and took his arm with her good hand, staring at him intently. Then she put her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my, you must be related to Nolan. You look just like him! Er, or, maybe he looks just like you,” she continued to study Adam’s face. “I can’t believe it,” she said softly.

Staring back, Adam silently handed her the photograph. She looked at it and at first she laughed, but then she quickly turned serious. “He said there were two,” she explained, and then she blushed. “You’re his parents, aren’t you?” She spoke softly

Now Mary Lynn grabbed her arm. “Do you know Nolan?”

The girl nodded. “We met on the train. We sat together, and we talked for hours. We were going to write to each other…” she stopped talking and as they watched her, her eyes filled with tears.

“Please, do you know where he is?”

Putting her hand over her mouth, she shook her head as the tears spilled over. Rev. Westerhouse guided her over to one of the pews, where she sat. The reverend motioned Adam and Mary Lynn to follow. Mary Lynn sat next to the girl, and the two men stood. Mary Lynn handed her a handkerchief and she blotted her tears.

“That’s just the problem. I don’t know anything. I don’t remember the accident, and when I woke up I was here in Rock Springs, and I haven’t seen Nolan since,” she looked up forlornly at Mary Lynn, who asked her name.

“I’m sorry,” she said, flustered. “When I saw you, Mr. Cartwright, I was so shocked I thought I was seeing Nolan. My name is Karen Gregory. I got on the train in Winnemucca. I was on my way to New York to help my sister with her new baby. I had a concussion and a broken arm from the accident, and I’ve been given clearance to leave for New York. I stayed a few extra days to help Rev. Westerhouse with some of the other passengers.”

“And you don’t remember anything about the accident?” Mary Lynn was being very gentle.

Karen thought. “Well, I remember the initial collision, and the ones that followed. Nolan grabbed my hand. We had been sleeping since it was the middle of the night, and of course that woke us up. The train began to rock and some people were screaming, but Nolan said he thought the train was starting to steady itself. That’s all I remember, until I woke up here. I’ve been asking everyone I see about him, especially the doctor. They wouldn’t let me go out by myself and check in some of the other places passengers were taken, so I haven’t been able to look for him.”

“That’s all right, dear. That’s what we’re here to do,” Mary Lynn assured her. She felt an immediate connection to this girl, who was perhaps the last person to have seen her son alive.

Karen sat up straight and looked from Mary Lynn to Adam. “Oh, please, may I go with you? I’ve been wanting to for weeks, and I’m well enough to go now, especially if I’m with you. I promise I won’t slow you down or get in the way. There aren’t that many places people were taken to. Reverend, would you mind?” She was so eager that no one had the heart to refuse her, and she seemed almost as anxious as they were. She hurried away and returned moments later donning a black coat and hat.

“I’m ready,” she announced intrepidly.

They started out into the cold January day, walking carefully. Adam had an attractive woman on each arm. With Karen’s help, they went from house to house in order. While everyone they spoke to was welcoming and understanding, the patient trusted to their care either wasn’t Nolan on sight, by description, or by showing the photograph.

By mid afternoon, they had covered every location on Mr. Stark’s list. They took Karen with them to the café for a late lunch. They all felt disappointed, but not overly so. They knew that Cheyenne was their next stop and that more information would be available there.

“Quite a few more passengers were taken to Cheyenne,” Karen said as they sipped hot coffee and ate cold chicken sandwiches.

“It’s also where they have the morgue,” Mary Lynn noted dully.

“That’s true, but we have to know, don’t we?” Adam was being characteristically logical.

“Talk to the doctor there, Dr. Samuels,” Karen urged. “He’s been the most involved. He was coming every other day at first, but now that most everyone is stable, he’s coming once a week. He’ll know how you should begin.”

“Dr. Samuels?” Adam was writing the name down.

“Yes, Arthur Samuels in Cheyenne.” Karen paused then. “Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright, would you do me a favor?”

“Of course, Karen, anything,” Adam assured her.

“No matter what you find out, will you please write to me and let me know?”

As a response, Adam handed her the paper with the addresses on it, along with his pen. Karen smiled and wrote down both her address in Winnemucca and her sister’s in New York.

When they reached the church again, they all hugged. They had bonded because of Karen’s sweetness and because of Nolan, who was their common interest. Mary Lynn and Adam invited Karen to visit the Ponderosa inasmuch as she lived in Nevada, and left her with an open invitation. As they left the church, Karen stood at the door.

“I’ll be praying for you, Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright. I have been all along.”

***

The next day found them waiting at the train tracks for the train bound for Cheyenne, Wyoming. The carriage driver from the livery waved down the train, and it stopped just as Mr. Stark had promised it would. The conductor helped them aboard, and they were escorted to the private car they had used before. They immediately requested to speak to three of the crew who had been on the train the night of the accident. Mr. Starks had also provided a list of the crew members’ names, and one by one they were being checked off the list. Those three conversations yielded no further information, however. Adam pointed out to a discouraged Mary Lynn that there were still two crew members they had not yet spoken to.

Worn out and worried, they both slept during the trip to Cheyenne. The conductor came to awaken them when the train reached the station. They were able to hire a carriage to take them to the hotel in town. Cheyenne was definitely a more established, yet rougher, city that Rock Springs. It had sprouted quickly with the arrival of the Union Pacific railroad, and was a significant stockyard location where cattle were transported east by rail. Adam and Mary Lynn quickly obtained a room and got directions to Dr. Samuels’ office, where they found themselves waiting nervously as the doctor finished seeing some waiting patients.

A short, wiry man with a handlebar mustache, Dr. Samuels received the Cartwrights in his office. He, too, had received similar visits from relatives of the train crash victims. He heard out their story and examined the photograph of Nolan and Logan. He shook his head, handing it back.

“I can’t say that I recollect anyone looking like these boys,” he stated. “But we do have a hospital of sorts and you should go there. It’s two doors down from my office. If I were you, though, I would talk to the undertaker first. It might save you time, sorry to say. I do think a few passengers wandered off in shock as well, but I don’t hold out much hope for them anymore. I wish I could give you more hope. It was a terrible shame, that accident. I believe the railroad took precautions, but I suggested to them that in the future if they encounter the same weather conditions on a trestle like that, they stop and wait until daylight before attempting to cross. Give the sun some time to melt the ice.”

After a short fifteen minutes, they were back out on the street. Dr. Samuels had not been unkind or brusque, he had just given them straight information. But not the kind that raised their spirits. They had only to look across the street to find the undertaker, William C. Bell. He, too, was familiar with the kind of visit Adam and Mary Lynn were making. He spent time staring at the picture of Nolan and his brother. It didn’t really matter which one was Nolan, but William Bell wanted to know. He got up from where they were seated together in a parlor and went into his office to check some records. He was thoughtful and didn’t speak for quite a while. When he looked up at the anxious parents, he found them both watching him closely.

He smiled briefly. “Well, I think I have what ought to be good news for you. I’m quite certain that this young man was not brought to my establishment. He’s a strikingly handsome young man, and I would remember him for that alone. Even if he had not been recognizable, I don’t recall any young male with this tall, slender body type or such black hair. Is his hair like yours?” This last question was directed to Adam, who nodded. Mr. Bell stood up and actually ran his fingers through the curls at the back of Adam’s neck. “No, nothing like this,” Bell confirmed. “To the best of my knowledge, all of the victims from the train accident came here, although there is one other undertaker in town, at the end of the street and around the corner. I only have three victims who are unidentified, and I am absolutely sure that none of them is your son.” He stopped talking then and watched Adam and Mary Lynn. He knew they so badly wanted to hear good news, to be directed straight to their son.

“You should make sure to visit our clinic just down from the doctor’s office. The passengers with worse injuries were taken there. To tell the truth, I’ve been so busy I haven’t been in there. You should also know that even if you look under every rock, you may not find him. There were some passengers who wandered off in the dark, probably in shock. They could only survive so long without help or shelter. Their remains may or may not be found,” he hated to pound bad news into these people, but he also wanted to be truthful with them.

“Yes,” Adam said. “We understand that. Thank you, Mr. Bell. You’ve been very helpful, and we are very happy to hear you say our son was not brought here. We’ll check the medical clinic. Thank you for spending your valuable time with us.” Adam stood and extended his hand to the undertaker. Mary Lynn followed suit, and they turned and went back outside. Mr. Bell watched them turn and head toward the clinic. He stood silently for a moment, shaking his head. It was such a damn shame. Spontaneously, he took a couple of quick steps and opened the front door.

“Mr. Cartwright,” he called after the pair. When they had turned back to look at him, William Bell called, “Good luck to you. I hope you find him.” Adam raised a hand and they resumed their mission.

At the clinic, or “hospital of sorts” as Dr. Samuels had referred to it, they were greeted by a uniformed nurse. They explained their purpose, and she nodded. Adam showed her the picture of the twins and she looked at it closely. She was thin and fully starched, with graying hair pulled severely into a bun. But she had kind eyes and distinct smile lines around her mouth, and after studying the picture, she looked up at Adam and Mary Lynn.

“They certainly are handsome young men,” she said. “But do I understand that only one is missing?” Adam confirmed that for her. “Well, then, you’ve already seen the undertaker, so you have good news there. We have 23 passengers as patients here. A few have been discharged, but most are still here. Their injuries were more serious. Some had surgery, one or two had amputations. And we have lots of broken bones, as you might imagine. You may feel free to walk through the clinic and see them. I would recommend showing this picture whenever you can. Follow me and I’ll get you started.”

Nolan’s parents spent two and a half hours in the clinic, talking to the patients, looking at every one, and showing their son’s picture to everyone who was able to communicate. It was painstaking work, but essential for them. What hurt was that no one’s eyes showed a flash of recognition on seeing the photo, and none of the patients they met was their son. It was tempting to start all over again after they had spoken to the last patient. Mary Lynn wanted to shake some of them, exhorting them to think, to remember. But Adam shook his head. They thanked the nurse and left the clinic.

They were exhausted and hungry. Before returning to their hotel, Adam insisted that they talk to the other undertaker Mr. Bell had told them about, just in case he knew something. However, all they received for their trouble was a wicked wind blowing against them, and the undertaker’s report that none of the train victims had been brought to him. Just in case, though, Mary Lynn made him look at Nolan’s picture. She could see the pity in his eyes as he shook his head after looking at it.

They returned to the hotel, worn out and disappointed. Other than meeting Karen, which had been the one bright spot of the day, they had gotten nowhere. They washed up and went to the hotel’s restaurant for dinner, which was eaten in silence. There was nothing more to do except go home. Each was thinking of the grim possibility that Nolan had been one of those who had wandered away from the train in the dark that night. Even though it was early, when dinner was finished, they returned to their room and went to bed. Both were coming to grips with the now-real possibility that Nolan was not alive.

“Mary Lynn, there is one more thing we can do,” Adam said as they settled into bed and turned out the light. “We can make sure we talk to the remaining members of the train crew we haven’t met yet. Someone might still know something.”

She sighed. “All right, Adam. We can do that on the train.” She agreed in words, but her tone of voice said her faith and determination was running out.

*** End of Chapter 4

One day at the end of January dawned bright but frigid, with an icy wind that found every crack and opening in Tom’s cabin. Tib had still been sleeping when Tom got up and began to fix breakfast, but the smell of food cooking awakened him. He sat up in bed, rubbing his nose, which felt frozen. He felt his stomach rumble. He wished Tom would hurry so they could eat. He decided that sitting up in the long johns Tom had loaned him was too cold, so he slid back under the covers. He was glad to see Tom put another log on the fire, and glad to accept a plate of meat and potatoes that Tom turned around and handed him a few moments later. As they ate, Tom observed that Tib easily picked up a knife and fork and began to cut his meat. He hadn’t done that a week ago. This was more progress to record. Tom had started writing Tib’s new accomplishments down as they occurred. He wanted to be able to keep track of them in a timeline. As they were finishing breakfast, Tib looked up at him and spoke.

“Cartwright,” he said.

“Cartwright? You mean like a wheelwright?” Tom questioned, staring.

“Cartwright,” Tib said it again, definitively, and used his finger to touch his chest.

“Is that a name? Is that your name? Are you Cartwright?” Tom felt excitement welling up and he leaned toward his patient, sensing a breakthrough.

Tib nodded and looked at Tom intensely.

“Is Cartwright your last name? Do you have another name that goes in front of Cartwright?”

Now Tib frowned, but he was concentrating on the question. He looked at Tom with a look that said he didn’t know.

Tom moved closer to him. “You know, I just started calling you Tib because the bone that broke in your leg is called the tibia bone. So when I first found you, I called you Tibia, and then just Tib, because I didn’t know your real name. But that’s not your real name. Your parents gave you a whole name when you were born, and I think you just remembered part of it, Cartwright.”

Tib nodded, still thinking. He kept rolling that name around in his head. Cartwright. It had a familiar feel to it. He didn’t know where it had popped out from. He had been almost as surprised to hear it as Tom was.

“Look,” Tom said. “I’m going to stop calling you Tib. It’s not your real name and it may just confuse things now, and we don’t need that. I’m going to call you Cartwright from now on, and if you remember anything else, you tell me, okay?”

Cartwright nodded. “Okay.” He was responding more readily in gestures and words, too.

Tom stopped right then and took out his timeline and wrote on it: “January 28, said ‘Cartwright,’ might be name, no more ‘Tib’.”

Later in the day, after Tom had done some necessary chores, he sat down to examine the leg wound. He was a little surprised to see that Cartwright was still awake; he wasn’t sleeping as much during the day anymore. Trying to decide how soon to remove the sutures he had placed, Tom went to a cabinet against the wall where he kept his medical supplies and books, and took out clean cloth to redress the wound. He left the double doors to the cabinet open as he often did, and for the first time Cartwright reacted.

“Hey,” he said, pointing at the cabinet. “Chess!”

Tom whirled to look, having forgotten that he had put his chess set in there, partly because the cabinet offered enough room for the board, but mostly because there was no one in his world anymore to play chess with.

“Cartwright, you play chess?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tom said softly, and then, louder, “You up for a game?”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin.

“You’re on, Cartwright. As soon as I look at your leg, we’re playing chess.” Now he would start finding out a lot more about his patient, Tom thought as he began unwrapping the bandage.

***

The following day found a somber Adam and Mary Lynn boarding the Union Pacific train in Cheyenne that would take them back to Reno. Once again they were given a private car. Adam immediately consulted his list of crew members and inquired as to whether two particular people were on board today. Both were. The train hadn’t even left the station when the first man came to see them. His name was Everett and he had been working up near the engine on January 4, supplying coal and wood necessary to fuel the locomotive. He looked at the picture but shook his head. He said the whole night had been chaotic, but he had stuck close to the engine since he had ongoing responsibilities to keep the engine running since it was being sent to Rock Springs for help. He mentioned that he built a bonfire on the track once the engine was separated. This was to help everybody keep warm. When asked if he recalled anything else, anything at all, Everett mentioned that he did recall an injured man who kept screaming in pain until he had been taken away, but that was all. He apologized that he wasn’t able to help more, and left, promising to send in the second man.

Adam sat back and heaved a sigh, reaching up to rub his eyes. This just felt like more of the same. Pretty soon they were going to have to face up to the inevitable, he thought.

“Adam, that man said he heard a man screaming until he was taken away,” Mary Lynn was leaning forward. “What do you think that meant? Where would he have been taken?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, to Rock Springs probably.”

“Maybe we should call him back and ask him more about…” she stopped her remark when the other crew member came in.

This man, who had been coming forward with purpose, stopped and gave Adam a startled look before introducing himself as Robert Powell. He had been the conductor on January 4 when the accident occurred. Once again the explanation was given, and the photograph taken out and handed across the table.

Mr. Powell seemed to pale slightly as he looked at the picture. Then he looked at Adam again and back to the picture. He did this several times before speaking, and he seemed shaken.

“Are you his father?” Powell whispered. “I knew it instantly when I saw you. He looks just like you.” His eyes were wide with surprise.

At the point Mary Lynn was gripping the edge of the table and Adam had sat straight up, not taking his eyes off Powell.

“Look at my uniform,” Powell said, indicating the upper front of his navy wool railroad jacket. “Do you see the stain? My wife has tried so many times to remove it. The railroad has ordered another coat for me, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

Adam and Mary Lynn looked at each other in confusion, but then concentrated where Powell was pointing. There was a dark ring around the area that covered his chest and stomach.

“It’s his blood,” Powell said. “I had so much on me by the time it was over.”

At this both Cartwrights were on their feet, with Mary Lynn looking ashen. Adam moved to stand behind her, but his eye bore into the other man’s.

“For God’s sake, Powell, tell us. We’ve been searching everywhere for him. What happened?” Adam’s voice was low and guttural at that point, and Mary Lynn knew he was struggling to control himself.

Robert Powell gestured for them all to sit down, and he told them the whole story of how he encountered Nolan Cartwright after the train accident. He told them about the mountain man who had called him over to help, he told them about the wound and how it had shocked him to see it. He described the ordeal of carrying Nolan upside down out of the overturned rail car, of breaking out the window, about his fear of dropping him once he was covered with the boy’s slippery blood, and he told them how he screamed endlessly from the pain. He noticed that Mrs. Cartwright had tears rolling down her cheeks, but she hadn’t made a sound, and Powell kept talking, mesmerized as he relived that surreal night. He continued right up to the point where the mountain man had administered laudanum and then picked up the boy and walked away with him. And then he was done with everything he could remember.

Frantic, Mary Lynn reached for him. “Who was the mountain man? Where did he take our son? What happened to them?”

Powell shook his head. “I don’t know who was man was, but I do remember this. He said he had a place nearby and he would take the boy there. He said he was a doctor in the War. And then he just walked off, carrying him. We had so much else to do with all the injuries, we had to take care of the other people, too, and it looked like your son was in good hands.”

For the first time since he read the Central Pacific telegram, Adam felt a ray of hope. Nolan might well be alive and in good hands, but where?

“Mr. Powell, who would know if someone lived close to that trestle where the accident occurred?

Powell seemed nonplussed. “I don’ know. I only pass through the area on the train. The closest place to the trestle is Rock Springs. Someone there might know of someone living up in the mountains.”

“Well, then, can you arrange for the train to let us off at Rock Springs again?”

Powell drew himself up and smiled. “That I can, and will, do right away, Mr. Cartwright. Leave it to me.” Then he spun and was gone before they realized it.

Instinctively, Adam and Mary Lynn grabbed each other. Their son, their boy, their baby, might be alive. Someone was taking care of him. But where? Where?

***

“Checkmate!” Tom sat back and gave Cartwright a look. Not only could he play chess, but he was wicked. Someone had taught him well. He had whooped Tom more often than not. Not at first, though. At first he’d been a little hesitant, a little unsteady. But even then Tom could tell he knew the game. And the more they played, the better he got with his openings and his strategies. Cartwright may have suffered a brain injury, but Tom was rusty as hell. He hadn’t played chess in sixteen years, and the brain injury was healing! Well, no more Mr. Nice Guy, he thought. He was unleashing the full power of his prowess on Cartwright. They spent hours playing, and they were both improving. With this last loss, Tom figured they were close to even with wins and losses.

It was getting dark. Almost time to start supper. Tom glanced over at his patient quickly. Cartwright had shaved himself that morning and he wasn’t quite as steady as Tom thought he would be. He had nicked himself several times. Nothing serious, but not as smoothly as someone with as heavy a beard as he had could probably do. Tom had asked him to write “Cartwright” on a piece of paper, and that hadn’t been easy for him. He’d completed it, but the result looked like a seven year old had done it. So there were still some residual fine motor skills that weren’t fully functioning. And he still wasn’t speaking in full sentences, although he was much better at making himself understood. Tom had asked him recently what he did for a living, and Cartwright had thought for a while before he replied “school.” Tom looked at him in surprise and said he thought Cartwright would have been out of school by now. That required more thought, but then he said “Boston.” Tom was stunned. Could he mean he was a student at Harvard? Tom had gone to medical school there. Tom had mentioned Harvard then, but Cartwright hadn’t reacted. Tom wondered if he needed to get him into the hands of people who understood the brain and its complexities better than he did. He wanted to see Cartwright make a complete recovery, and now fretted that he might he holding him back, keeping him here in the middle of nowhere.

Earlier in the day, Tom had taken the stitches out of the leg. The flesh was healing nicely and all trace of infection was gone. The leg was still in a splint, and would need to stay that way for at least three more weeks. The bruising was still evident, but fading to a sickly yellow color, but at least green was past. Good old flesh tone came after yellow when it came to bruises.

That night Tom fried ham and potatoes for supper, along with dried apples he had in his root cellar. One thing he had discovered about Cartwright was that he loved chocolate. Tom usually bought a few bars when he went to Rock Springs for supplies, and one evening he had casually broken out a bar without giving it much thought. Cartwright’s face had lit up like a lamp when he saw it. Tom would have shared it anyway, but when he laughed and asked Cartwright if he wanted a piece, he had instantly responded, “Yessir!” Tom chuckled over it as he served up two plates of food. He had also discovered that Cartwright had a big appetite. He would often dive into his food, just as he did now, but on this night, when he finished, he became quiet, looking into the fire with a frown.

“Watcha thinkin’ about?” Tom asked him after a while.

Slowly Cartwright turned his head to look over at him. He seemed serious.

“Nolan,” he said. “I’m Nolan. Cartwright.”

Tom came to attention. That was a sentence. It was short, but it was a sentence, “I’m Nolan.”

“Nolan is your first name?” Tom asked this carefully, and received a nod in reply. “So your whole name is Nolan Cartwright?”

Nolan nodded again. Tom reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Do you know what this means? We can find your family now that we know your name. Do you remember where you live? Does your family live in Boston?”

He shook his head. “Boston school,” he replied.

“Okay, you go to school in Boston. Think hard, Nolan. Where do you live?”

“On…a…ranch.” Another sentence.

“Can you think of the name of the ranch? Is it in Wyoming? Or Utah?”

Nolan grimaced. “Don’t know.”

That’s okay,” Tom patted his arm. “At least we’re getting somewhere. Things are really starting to come back to you. You’re making great progress.” Tom’s mind was jumping ahead. The only way to start a search would be to get to a place with communication, and that would be Rock Springs. Could he make a 15-mile trip to Rock Springs with Pete and leave Nolan alone in the cabin? He was reluctant to do that. Would Nolan be able to tolerate a 15-mile ride on Pete along with Tom? Would Pete tolerate that? Too many obstacles, he thought to himself. Tom realized that he probably could stop the train as it went by and it would take him and Nolan to Rock Springs. No, that wouldn’t work either, because Nolan wouldn’t be able to walk from the train to the town through the snow with his crutch and broken leg. Were there other options? Tom could stop the train and ask the conductor to send wires at the next station they reached. Or Tom and Nolan could hop the train and take it to the next station and just bypass Rock Springs. Tom would chew on it for a while until things were clear. In the meantime, he broke off another piece of chocolate and passed it to Nolan before popping one into his own mouth.

*** End of Chapter 5

Adam and Mary Lynn were in the dry goods store in Rock Springs talking to the proprietor, Ed Wheeler.

“Well, there is a guy who comes in twice a year for supplies. Keeps to himself. He lives 15, 16 miles west of here, somewhere up in the mountains, but I don’t have the faintest idea where. Always pays in cash. Sometimes he orders things, and sometimes he gets mail which we just hold for him, so I could probably dig up his name if you want,” Wheeler was scratching his head and wrinkling his brow while he talked.

“That would probably be helpful,” Adam acknowledged, and prepared to wait while Wheeler disappeared into the back of the store.

He was back in a few minutes. “Here’s a piece of mail we’re holding for him,” he passed it to Adam, who looked at it with Mary Lynn.

It was an envelope addressed to Thomas Walters, M.D., Rock Springs, Wyoming, with a return address from Harvard Medical College, Boston, Massachusetts. They exchanged a significant look.

“Is this the mountain man?” Mary Lynn asked.

“Well, he’s always dressed in buckskin when he comes in, so he does kinda look like a mountain man. Tall fella, about 55. Pretty powerful, too.”

“Would anyone around here have any idea where he lives?” Mary Lynn persisted.

“Well, there is an old guy who lives at the boardinghouse. Name’s Rusty. He’s been around this area forever. Helped build the railroad and all that. He might know something, but other than that, I can’t really think of anyone. This Walters fella’s always alone. He’s pleasant enough, but he doesn’t make small talk or hang around. Just gets what he came for and leaves.”

They thanked Mr. Wheeler and headed directly back to the boardinghouse, where Mrs. Kelly had given them a room again. When asked, she acknowledged that Rusty had lived there for the past two years.

“He’s quite elderly now, and doesn’t come out of his room often. Generally I take his meals up to him,” she explained.

“Does he make sense when you talk to him?” Adam’s voice was urgent.

“Well, yes, for the most part he knows what he’s saying.”

“Mrs. Kelly, could we pay him a visit? He might be able to help us locate our son. We have some new information,” Mary Lynn’s voice had a pleading quality in it. “We just want to ask him a few questions.”

Mrs. Kelly looked doubtful, but she was also unable to resist the emotion she saw in the Cartwrights. “Well, let me ask him. You wait here. I’ll see what he says.”

Mary Lynn paced while Mrs. Kelly was gone, and was literally wringing her hands before the good lady returned.

“Well, he’s resting in bed, but he’s awake, and he has agreed to see you, so please follow me.”

At the end of a long hallway, she knocked on the last door and was beckoned to enter. A small, elderly man with white whiskers was sitting up in bed. His room was sparsely furnished, like all the boardinghouse rooms. An open book was lying face down on the man’s lap.

“I’m Rusty,” he announced is a surprisingly hearty voice. “What can I do for you folks?”

With his wife clutching his arm, Adam explained what Ed Wheeler had told them, and asked if Rusty knew Thomas Walters, or anyone else who lived in the mountains near the train trestle 15 miles to the west.

“Well I knew Walters after the War. We worked together building the trestle for the railroad. He was pretty scarred from the War and I got the feeling he wanted to be far away from any reminder of it. Thought he might be a doctor, but I can’t be sure of that. Them docs saw horrible things during the War. It’s no wonder he would want to forget. After the railroad work was finished, I stayed on, but Walters said he was going to live alone in the mountains. There’s a few folks like that around here. If I recollect, he was looking at a spot not far from the trestle, but I couldn’t tell you exactly where because I lost track of him. It wouldn’t be too hard to find, I imagine, but don’t know that you could do it yourselves up in these mountains. Especially you, Mrs., in your long skirts. Twouldn’t be safe. These mountains can be mean. Your best bet would be hire a tracker who knows the area.” He stopped, looking from one to the other.

“Where would we find a capable tracker?”

“Well, Mister, I’ve been out of the picture for a couple years now. I’d ask around town. There must be someone who’d be able to help you.”

Knowing he had given them all the information he knew, both Cartwrights grasped his hand and thanked him before they left him in peace. Back in their room, they looked at each other.

“We’re gaining little bits of information, but each time we have to start on a new search,” Mary Lynn said, sounding frustrated and allowing a little bitterness to creep into her voice.

“We’re getting closer to him, but still don’t know exactly where to look,” Adam agreed.

“Why hasn’t he gotten in touch with us Adam? Surely he knows how we would worry.”

“Maybe he can’t, sweetheart. We don’t know the extent of his injuries,” Adam told her gently. “We just have to be grateful that he’s apparently in the care of a doctor, and one from Harvard, too.” He put his hand under her chin and raised her face to meet his. “Why don’t you go and rest. I want to walk around town and talk to as many people as I can. Maybe I can find someone who knows the area well enough to track for us.” He bent and kissed her. He understood how dejected she was feeling. He wished his brother, Hoss, was here. No one tracked as well as Hoss did. As Mary Lynn reluctantly returned to their room, Adam left the boardinghouse with renewed spirit. They were close to something now, and he was going after it.

*** End of Chapter 5

The train was just coming off the trestle when the engineer saw Tom with his horse, waving him down. There was another person sitting on the horse. The train stopped slowly, and it took Tom a few minutes to walk up to the engineer. He asked if his friend and he could board and ride to Rock Springs. He gestured to Nolan’s leg and crutch, explaining that he and the horse would otherwise ride the distance, but couldn’t, and he had urgent business to take care of. The engineer nodded and blew a whistle that drew the conductor up front. The man serving that shift was Robert Powell. He looked at Tom and Nolan with amazement. Tom smiled and shook Powell’s hand, thanking him for helping rescue Nolan the night of the accident. Once again, Powell was nonplussed.

“Do you think if you blew the whistle at Rock Springs, someone would come fetch us? Nolan here can’t walk through the snow?” Tom asked Powell, prepared to go back home if the answer was no.

Robert Powell consulted with the engineer, who agreed that if the train just sat at Rock Springs and blew the whistle, sooner or later someone would come along. Powell and Tom helped Nolan get aboard the train. Once aboard, Tom slapped Pete on the rump, and the horse turned and headed back toward home. The barn door had been left ajar, and Tom knew Pete would head directly there.

Tom tried to pay their fare, but Powell flatly refused. He didn’t want to walk them back to the private car, but he sat them in a fairly secluded area in the second car. He looked closely at Nolan.

“You sure look different than the first time I saw you,” he stated. “You sure can holler!”

Nolan frowned until Tom explained that Mr. Powell had been highly instrumental in his extrication from the train car and that it had necessarily caused pain for Nolan. “He helped save your life,” Tom said, gesturing to Powell. Nolan put his hand out and Powell shook it.

“His name is Nolan Cartwright,” Tom said. “I didn’t know that for weeks because he had a skull fracture and wasn’t communicating much until recently.

“I know who he is!” Powell exclaimed. “His parents have been searching everywhere for him. I just spoke with them the other day. They were coming back from Cheyenne where they were checking the morgue and the clinic. I told them about you and let them off in Rock Springs to try to find out who you are. I didn’t know where you live, or your name. You’ll probably find them there still. They’re from the Ponderosa Ranch near Virginia City, Nevada.”

Tom was gripping Nolan’s arm. He thought Nolan had perked up when he heard Powell’s news. Tom himself had been isolated enough that he had not heard of the Ponderosa Ranch, but he had heard of Virginia City before.

“Did you hear that, Nolan, your parents are in Rock Springs. They’re looking for you. You were right about the ranch. It’s called the Ponderosa. Do you remember Virginia City?”

Nolan smiled widely. “The Ponderosa. Ben Cartwright.”

“Is Ben Cartwright your father?”

Nolan shook his head. “My grandfather. His ranch. I live there.” It was the most information Tom had heard him offer, and gave him credit for another sentence.

Powell leaned forward. “He’s a twin. He has an identical twin brother. His parents showed me a photograph, and you can’t tell them apart. And wait until you see his father. That’s who he looks like. It’ll bowl you over.”

Tom turned to Nolan. “You have a twin brother? What’s his name?” Nolan sat back and appeared to be looking at a button on Powell’s jacket. He was thinking. When he didn’t respond, Tom explained that there were gaps in his memory, and he had just started putting words into sentences again. His brain was healing.

Powell got up to go back to work. He put his hand on Nolan’s shoulder. He sure was glad to see him so much better. Tom settled back and watched the flat, snowy landscape pass. It wouldn’t be a very long ride to Rock Springs. With this new information, he guessed he should look for the Cartwrights first. His guess was to try the boardinghouse. He was thinking over his plans when Nolan nudged him. He turned and looked at him.

“Logan. My brother,” he said with a nod of his head.

“Logan. That’s one of the names you said in your dream, Logan. Good name. Logan and Nolan, the twins,” Tom smiled at him. “Any other kids at home?”

This time Nolan smiled as though he knew a joke. “Lots,” he replied. Tom took in his expression and raised his brows. There was a story there, apparently.

“Who’s Peg? You said that name, too. Is she your sweetheart?”

Nolan laughed outright. “In a way. Pegasus. My horse.” Tom rolled his eyes.

When the town of Rock Springs came into view, the train slowed to a stop once again. The town wasn’t more than a quarter of a mile away from the train tracks, but the snow was just too deep for Nolan to walk through, even with Tom’s help, and Tom wasn’t going to take any chances with his leg. Not at this point. The engineer blew three blasts on the train’s whistle. After five minutes he did it again. And then once more. After the third try, a horse pulling a carriage appeared from around the last building in the short string that constituted the town. When he reached the train, the engineer recognized him as the livery owner who had been picking up the Cartwrights and others who had been searching for victims of the train accident. Tom hopped down and together, he and Powell helped Nolan down and into the carriage. As the driver was about to turn the carriage back toward town, Powell called out to Tom.

“Hey, mountain man! What is your name?”

“Tom Walters. Dr. Walters. You call me Tom,” he waved as the train started up again and began to move on its way.

The livery owner turned back to Tom, “Where you headed, Mister?”

“Boardinghouse, please.”

In a short time the carriage had stopped at Mrs. Kelly’s. Tom hopped down and reached out to help Nolan down.

Farther down the main road, Adam Cartwright was heading back from a series of disappointing efforts to locate a good tracker. He had come close; a man mentioned by several people lived nearby, but he was gone for the winter. He sounded like the kind of person Adam needed; someone who could search the mountains around the railroad trestle to find cabins or other dwellings. He was frustrated, but resigned to the fact that they might have to wait until April or May before they could hope to locate their son. At least they had learned some encouraging facts, and had every reason to hope that Nolan was still alive. Walking head down against the cold, and watching his way in the frozen mud, he started to pass the livery carriage and almost ran into a man standing in the street near the boardinghouse.

The first things Adam saw were a pair of boots and buckskin leggings. Buckskin. That resonated in his mind. He stopped and looked up at the rest of the figure, stopping just before colliding with him. The face he looked at wore an expression of amazement.

Tom turned and looked at the man in the dark coat who was coming toward him, head down. Just when he thought he’d walk right into him, the man looked up, and Tom found himself looking at Nolan Cartwright, but more mature. He blinked a couple of times and almost shook his head.

“It’ll bowl you over,” he said, echoing Robert Powell. It did.

“What?” asked the man, cocking his head. Then he turned his attention to the passenger sitting in the carriage. He gaped for a moment as a crutch was handed down and the man in buckskin helped another man slide down to stand carefully on the ground.

Adam knew his face crumpled as he looked at his son. “Oh, dear God,” he said, gathering Nolan in his arms. Hugging him, Adam heard him wince and felt the other man’s hand on his arm.

“He has some broken ribs,” Tom explained, watching Adam take a small step back and look at his son from head to toe. “And a broken leg,” Tom tucked the crutch under Nolan’s arm.

Adam took Nolan’s face in his hands and held it, knowing that tears were slipping down his face. Here he was, after these weeks of helpless waiting, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Nolan, is this your father?” Tom gently made the suggestion, but he needn’t have.

Nolan’s eyes had filled with tears too. “Dad,” he said, swallowing.

Adam turned to Tom. “I’m Adam Cartwright. Are you… have you been taking care of my son?”

“Yes, and we were coming to find you. Let’s go inside and warm up. I’ll explain everything.” Together they helped Nolan inside.

They sat in Mrs. Kelly’s parlor, where a fire burned in the fireplace, spreading welcome warmth. Mrs. Kelly came to greet them, and stopped short when she saw Nolan.

“Oh, Mr. Cartwright, you found him! There’s no doubt, is there!” She laughed as she spoke. “Would you like me to get your wife?”

“I’ll get her,” Adam said, standing. He turned to Tom and put his hands out. “Please. My wife is so anxious. Let me bring her here. Don’t go anywhere.” He almost dashed out of the room in his haste to get Mary Lynn.

Tom laughed. “We’re not going anywhere, are we, buddy?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Nolan answered. The longest sentence so far, Tom thought.

“Can you stand up?” Tom felt bad getting him up just after he’d sat, but he had a feeling the boy’s mother would be squeezing him no matter how much he cautioned. Moments later he sensed movement in the doorway and looked over. A very attractive blonde woman in a fitted navy wool dress stood there, staring at Nolan. She was biting her lip, and her hands were clasped under her chin. Her blue eyes were swimming in tears. She came forward and took his hands. Adam followed behind her.

“Nolan, darling. I knew it. I knew you were alive,” she said softly and then she reached up to put her arms around his neck. In response, he shifted his weight to his good leg and put his arms around her. They stood that way for a long time. When they pulled away, Mrs. Cartwright wiped at the tears on her cheeks.

“Mom,” Nolan said. “You smell good.” She put her hand on his cheek and kissed him. Then she turned to Tom and reached for his hands.

“I don’t know who you are, but you are a saint for bringing him back to us. I’m Mary Lynn Cartwright, and you met my husband, Adam, didn’t you?”

They all sat down again, and this time Tom told them the whole story, taking his time and leaving out no details. Nolan sat between his parents on a settee with his mother holding one of his hands in both of hers and his father with an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his back occasionally. They had a lot of questions, and Tom patiently answered them all.

“Nolan has made amazing progress in the weeks since the accident. Like I told you, I’m only guessing that he suffered a skull fracture based on my observations. I would recommend that you have him see a specialist in a large city, maybe San Francisco, because he still has some fine motor skill deficiencies. He’s beginning to put sentences together now, and that’s a very good sign, but writing is still a challenge. My guess is that with time he’ll make a complete recovery,” Tom stopped and smiled at Nolan. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we, Tib?” He slipped inadvertently back into an old habit.

“Tib?”

Tom laughed. “I’m sorry. When I first got him home he was unconscious for four days, and then when he woke up, he wasn’t talking. I didn’t know his name, so I called him Tibia, for the bone he broke, and then Tib for short. It was a nickname. I haven’t used it since he remembered his name, but it slipped out just then.”

“Tib,” Adam tried it out, smiling so that his dimples showed. “That’s kind of handy. We’ll have to remember that one,” and he ruffled his son’s hair. Then he turned back to Tom. “Please, Dr. Walters, stay and have dinner with us. We can’t begin to repay you for what you’ve done for Nolan, but we can start by buying you dinner.”

“Well, I am getting a little hungry, so I’ll take you folks up on that. But you have to call me Tom. Only Tom,” he insisted.

Adam got up and went to arrange dinner plans with Mrs. Kelly. There were some good smells coming from the kitchen, too. Tom commented wryly to Nolan that it would be a nice change from eating his own cooking, but Nolan disagreed.

“Tom’s good cook,” he told his mother.

Adam returned triumphant. Of course on this happy occasion Mrs. Kelly was glad to have Tom stay for dinner. The boardinghouse was never full in winter anyway.

Over dinner, Adam asked Tom why he lived alone in the mountains, and Tom explained why we wanted to get away from everything he had lived through in the War. He hailed from Ohio, but the War had changed him and he just wanted to escape afterward. Adam nodded, understanding. In his own way he had been very troubled by the War Between the States, and even though service had not been required of him, he had thought about enlisting. However, his family had been young then and he had growing responsibilities to them and to the Ponderosa.

Adam asked him if he had gone to Harvard Medical School, based on the envelope he had seen at the dry goods store. Tom acknowledged that he had, and that gave him, Adam and Nolan something in common, which seemed like an amazing coincidence.

“Do you think you’ll stay here, Tom?” Mary Lynn asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “After having Nolan as my house guest this past month, I’ve gotten kind of used to having some company around, and someone to play chess with!”

“Well, if you’re a chess player, you couldn’t have had anyone better keeping you company than Nolan,” Adam said. “He grew up playing chess, and he’s darn good at it.”

“And guitar,” Nolan added.

“That’s right,” his father agreed. “He grew up playing the guitar, too.”

Tom and the Cartwrights ended up talking well into the evening. Tom stayed overnight at the boardinghouse, and the next day all four of them were at the train tracks waiting for the train headed west. Tom would ride it only to the trestle and then hike the short distance to his cabin, and the Cartwrights would take it all the way to Reno. On the train, Tom gave Adam the timeline he had been keeping of Nolan’s progress. He said the specialist in San Francisco would want to see it, and he said he would be happy to communicate with that doctor in whatever way would assist with Nolan’s recovery. Adam made him promise to make a trip to visit them on the Ponderosa, which Tom agreed to, if for no other reason than to see the other person who looked exactly like Nolan.

When the train stopped just before the trestle to let Tom off, it was an emotional parting for everyone. Mary Lynn and Adam again could not find the proper words to express their gratitude to Tom. When Nolan put his hand out to Tom, the doctor took it and pulled the boy into an embrace. Pulling back slightly, Nolan could see tears in his eyes. Tom leaned forward, putting his forehead against Nolan’s and his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“You’re gonna make it, Tib. Take good care of yourself. Write down everything you remember.” With that, Tom stood and gave the Cartwrights a tremulous smile. And then he jumped off the train into the snow. As the train began to move again, Tom stood near the tracks, and waved until it disappeared from view across the trestle.

***

Logan was waiting in Virginia City when the stage arrived from Reno. He had insisted on being the only person to drive in to pick up his brother and parents. He told everyone else to stay home and plan the celebration.

Adam stepped down first and helped his wife disembark. Anxious, Logan asked about Nolan, and Adam told him to see for himself. The next thing Nolan knew, Logan’s head and shoulder’s popped through the stage door. Satisfied that his brother looked the same other than the splint on his leg, Logan all but pulled him out, grabbing his crutch as an afterthought. After wrapping his arms around his brother, he held him back and looked at him, with tears welling up in his eyes but a huge smile on his face.

“For Pete’s sake, brother, this is the second time in two months we’ve done this. Did they kick you out again?”

“You wish,” said Nolan as he put his arm around his brother’s shoulders to steady himself. “You wish.”

At the Ponderosa, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house as Nolan came through the door with his crutch. Except Nolan’s. He was just grinning to see all these people who loved him. The people from his dream. Until he saw Ben. When his grandfather made his way forward to greet his grandson, Nolan put his arms around him and let the tears come. No words were necessary, and Ben just patted his back gently until he could wait no longer to say what he had been waiting for weeks to say.

“Want to play a game of chess, son?”

Epilogue

Nolan did not return to Harvard that term, but was scheduled to return again in the fall. He and his father took a trip to San Francisco to the specialist that Tom had recommended. After several days and many tests, the doctor confirmed that Tom’s diagnosis had most likely been correct. A skull fracture resulting in some brain injury was gradually healing. The progress Nolan had shown was strong evidence that he would continue to do so. He was already speaking in more complex sentences. He was given handwriting exercises to help strengthen his fine motor skills. Adam assured the doctor that there were plenty of people at home who would make sure he did them. He was also not to ride a horse for at least six weeks. That did not please Nolan, but he was given permission to visit Pegasus in the barn.

Adam and Mary Lynn sent Tom a generous sum of money, knowing he would pick it up in a few months when he made his trip to Rock Springs for supplies. Adam also included a letter suggesting that Tom consider starting a medical practice in Rock Springs, which had no doctor and could certainly have used one the night of the accident. The railroad had also indicated to Adam that there was a good chance that Rock Springs would become an official stop on the rail line. Tom took Adam up on his suggestion, using the money to outfit his new office on the town’s main street, with his chess board set up prominently in the waiting room.

Mary Lynn kept their promise to Karen Gregory, and quickly sent off a letter to New York letting her know that Nolan had been found alive and safe. A long letter from Karen addressed to Nolan arrived just a few weeks later. Her description of meeting him on the train helped jog his memory more about her and the accident. He sat down right away to carefully and neatly pen a letter back to her. That began a series of letters flowing between New York and Virginia City, and started some good-natured teasing of Nolan by his sisters and cousins, which he tolerated with a smile. He already knew he would see Karen again as soon as he could.

One day in May, Adam showed Nolan a letter he had received. Nolan read it and smiled, thanking his father. He hurried off to find Logan to report the news. The next day they both rode into town to meet the afternoon stage from Reno. The last person to jump down was not, surprisingly, dressed in buckskin. He wore regular clothing. After catching the bag the driver tossed down to him, he turned to see Nolan and Logan standing before him, each with a wide smile on his face. They were dressed identically in black shirts, pants, hats and boots, and each had a paper sign pinned to his shirt that said “Tib.”

Tom threw his head back and laughed. “How am I gonna know? I can’t tell!”

“We’ll let you know when you get it right,” one of them said as they turned the carriage toward the Ponderosa.

The End

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