Thenceforward and Forever Free
Book 3 of A HOUSE UNITED series

By Sarah Hendess

 

Ponderosa Ranch
Nevada Territory
October – December, 1861

October passed happily for all of the Cartwrights.  The men enjoyed the autumn lag in their workload, and apart from a few cases of bad colds, Josie’s work was light, too, leaving her with plenty of time to spend with Sally, Patience, and Margaret, who often rode out to the Ponderosa together.  Josie also began teaching Hoss more about medicine whenever patients sought her out at the ranch.  Josie’s oversized cousin had a natural gift for healing, and he quickly learned to determine how much quinine to give someone for a fever and how to discern between a sprain and a fracture. 

One day in early November, however, Hoss became the patient.  He had been helping to open a new mine, and he returned home covered in rock dust from head to toe.  Josie was sitting in her bedroom and writing a letter to Michaela when she heard Hoss clomp his way up the stairs and into the washroom.  She heard him pump water into the tub for a few minutes as she finished her letter and addressed the envelope.  Josie was heading down the hallway to put the letter inside her hat next to the front door so she would not forget to take it to town later that week, and just as she passed the washroom’s closed door, she heard Hoss gasp in pain.  Concerned, she knocked on the door.
            “Hoss?” she called.  “You all right?”

            “Yeah,” came the muffled reply.

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah.”

            Josie shrugged and continued downstairs, figuring Hoss must have popped a nasty blister or pulled out a splinter.  When Hoss sat down to supper that evening, however, Josie saw that he had tied handkerchiefs around the knuckles of both hands.

            “What happened to your hands?” she asked, reaching out to inspect them.

            Hoss pulled his hands out of Josie’s reach.  “Ain’t nothin’,” he said.

            “Then you won’t mind if I look at them.”  Josie stood up and reached for his hands again.

            Hoss sighed and laid his hands on the table for inspection.  Josie untied and removed the handkerchiefs and saw that every one of his knuckles on both hands were split to the bone.  Dried blood crusted over the wounds, which cracked and bled anew every time Hoss flexed the joints.

            “Good heavens!” Ben exclaimed when he saw his son’s hands.  “What happened?”

            “I was working over at that new mine,” Hoss said, “and some of them rocks are real sharp.  Tore right through my old work gloves.”

            “There wasn’t much left of those gloves to begin with,” Adam remarked, shaking his head at his brother’s knuckles.

            Josie was already halfway up to her bedroom for her medical bag.  She soon returned with a bottle of iodine, a small jar of salve, and a fistful of bandages.  Hoss winced as the first drops of iodine soaked into the wounds.

            “This must have hurt like crazy when you got into that hot bath earlier,” Josie said.

            “Yeah, it stung a bit,” Hoss said, biting his lower lip against the burning iodine.

            Josie made quick work of disinfecting Hoss’s knuckles and then slathered them with a generous amount of the soothing salve before bandaging them properly. 

            “Thanks,” Hoss said sheepishly.

            “No charge,” Josie told him.  “But stay out of that mine until you heal up.  I don’t want those knuckles getting infected.”

            “Hoss, why didn’t you get new gloves if yours were so worn out?” Little Joe asked.

            Hoss blushed.  “Aw, Joe,” he said, “you know it ain’t easy finding gloves to fit these big ol’ mitts of mine.  I’ll have to wait until I can get to San Francisco again.”
            Adam glanced over at Josie and saw her mind churning.  He wondered what was spinning around that brain of hers, but he did not ask.  She would tell him if she needed to.

            After supper, Josie pulled Little Joe aside.

            “Who in Virginia City does leatherwork?” she asked him.

            “Josh Grayson,” he replied.  “He mostly makes saddles – he did the one Adam and Hoss gave me for Christmas last year – but he does other leatherwork, too, if you ask him.  Why?”

            “You think he could make a pair of sturdy work gloves for Hoss’s Christmas present?”

            Little Joe grinned.  “Yeah,” he replied.  “Yeah, I think he could.”

            “Excellent!” Josie said.  “I’m going to need your help.  We’ll have to measure Hoss’s hands so Josh can make the gloves the right size, but I don’t want Hoss to know.”

            Joe finished the thought for her.  “So we wait until he’s asleep,” he said, rubbing his hands together as his green eyes sparkled with delight.

            “Exactly!” Josie said.

            That night, Josie lay awake in her dark bedroom, waiting for Little Joe to summon her.  His bedroom was next to Hoss’s, so he would know first when Hoss fell asleep.  She had begun to worry that Joe had fallen asleep himself when she heard her door creak open a crack.

            “Josie?” Little Joe whispered.

            Josie sprang out of bed and nearly collided with Little Joe, who had stepped into the room.  She groped around on her night table and lit a small candle; she dared not produce more light than that.  She handed the candle to Joe and grabbed a tape measure, a slip of paper, and a pencil.  Together, the cousins crept out of Josie’s bedroom and down the hall to Hoss’s, neatly sidestepping the squeaky the board in the center of the hall outside Adam’s room.

            Hoss was snoring when Josie and Little Joe slipped in.  Joe carefully set the candle on Hoss’s bureau and took the tape measure from Josie, who sat cross-legged on the floor.  Hoss was lying flat on his back with his left arm sticking straight out off the side of the bed.  Little Joe approached his brother and delicately measured the width of Hoss’s hand and the length of each finger.  He whispered the measurements to Josie so she could write them down on the paper.  Joe had just finished measuring the span from Hoss’s thumb to the tip of his pinky when he accidentally brushed his brother’s palm.  Hoss snorted and rolled forcefully over onto his left side.  As he rolled, his right arm flew around, and his curled hand struck Joe hard just under his left eye.  Little Joe fell backwards into Josie’s lap, knocking them both to the floor.  She quickly reached a hand around and clapped it over Joe’s mouth to stifle his cry of surprise.  They lay stock-still for several moments until they were certain Hoss would not awake.  At long last, Josie rolled Little Joe off of her and drew a deep breath, grateful that Little Joe was so skinny. 

            “Did you get that last measurement?” she hissed.

            Clutching his face where Hoss had hit him, Joe whispered a final figure, which Josie dutifully recorded.  Then they gathered their supplies and exited the room as quietly as they could.  Back in the hallway, Josie held the candle close to Joe’s face so she could inspect the damage.  

            “You’ll live,” she reassured him.  They bid each other goodnight and slipped into their own bedrooms.

            Little Joe was the last down to breakfast the next morning, and Josie noticed he kept his head down.  Halfway through his grits, he looked up just enough to catch Josie’s eye and reveal a small bruise on his left cheekbone.  Josie pursed her lips to suppress a smile and looked down at her plate.  Adam noticed both the exchange and the mark on his brother’s face.  He knew Josie and Little Joe had been up to something, but rather than get involved he opted to pour himself another cup of coffee.

            “Pa,” Hoss said as he finished his pancakes, “darnedest thing happened last night.” 

            “Oh?”

            “Yeah,” Hoss said, furrowing his brow.  “I coulda sworn I had a skeeter in my room last night.  Darn thing walked right across my hand.”

            Josie and Little Joe shot each other another look and swallowed hard to contain their laughter.

            “It’s the wrong time of year for mosquitoes, Hoss,” Ben said.

            “I know,” Hoss said.  “That’s why it was so strange.”

            “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” Adam asked.

            Hoss shrugged, and Josie decided she had better change the subject.

            “Little Joe and I are riding into town today,” she announced.  “Does anyone need anything?”

            Ben and Hoss shook their heads, but Adam spoke up.

            “I think I’ll come with you,” he said.  “I’ve got something I need to check on.”

            Josie grinned, pleased that Adam would come along.  They finished their breakfast in short order, and Josie, Little Joe, and Adam bundled up against the cold November air and set out for the barn to saddle their horses. 

            As the trio rode to Virginia City, Little Joe and Josie told Adam about the previous night’s adventure.  Adam threw back his head and laughed.
            “Mosquito, thy name is Joseph,” he chuckled.  “It’s kind of you to get him new gloves,” he added.  “Hoss hides it well, but he really is self-conscious about his size.”

            When they reached the livery stable in town, Little Joe invited Adam to come along to Josh Grayson’s with them, but Adam declined, saying he had “important business to see to.”  They agreed to meet at the International House in a couple of hours for a hot lunch.  Josie watched Adam set off down the street alone and wondered what he was up to.  Little Joe caught her staring.

            “Aw, leave it alone, Josie,” he said.  “Older Brother has strange ways.”

            Josie left it and followed Joe to Josh Grayson’s shop.  Their business there took only a few moments.  Josh was pleased with the measurements they provided and said he could have the gloves ready in two weeks. 

            As they stepped out of the shop, Little Joe suggested they should think about Christmas presents for Adam and Ben as well.
            “Oh, I’ve got Adam taken care of,” Josie said.  “But if you need an idea, you could order him a copy of Charles Dickens’ new novel ‘Great Expectations.’  He missed part of the serial, and I know he’d love to read the whole story.”

            Little Joe liked this idea, so the pair visited the telegraph office, where Joe wired a bookstore in San Francisco.  Afterward, they spent the rest of their time in Cass’s General Store, where they chatted with Sally and debated the merits of different Christmas gift ideas for Ben.  They eventually settled on a handsome tobacco pouch that Will Cass said he could have monogrammed.  The cousins nodded enthusiastically.  Christmas presents taken care of, Joe and Josie set off arm-in-arm down the street for the International House.

            Adam was waiting for them when they arrived.  He had taken care of his “important business” and was nearly bursting at the seams with excitement, but he did not want to spoil any Christmas surprises of his own, so he leaned against a post outside the hotel and tried to look nonchalant.  He could tell by the way Josie’s eyes shone that she and Little Joe had also had a successful morning.  The trio enjoyed a lunch of steaming beef stew before setting off for home. 

******

            The month leading up to Christmas was a happy time for all five Cartwrights.  There was no real movement on the warfront, and they received holiday letters from Jacob, Hannah, and Rachel.  They had their first light snowfall the second week of December, and Josie thought she had never seen anything more beautiful than the Ponderosa covered in a delicate film of snow.

            The Ponderosa was famous for hosting the best Christmas party in the territory, and one afternoon a week before Christmas, Hoss and Adam came home with their arms laden with fresh pine boughs for decorating the house.  The whole family spent the remainder of the time before supper decorating the living room for the party.  Little Joe and Hoss broke into a mock sword fight, each brandishing a pine branch, while Ben and Josie strung the remaining branches, intertwined with wide red ribbon, from the staircase banister.  Adam stood below the stairs, giving directions.

            “No, more to the right,” he said.

            “My right or your right?” Josie asked.

            “My right.  No, your right.  No, I’m sorry, back the other way.”

            Josie sighed as she and Ben readjusted the branches.

            “Joseph, you and Hoss are going to sweep up all those pine needles,” Ben advised his youngest sons, who were still attacking one another with pine boughs.
            At long last, the branches were hung with enough precision to suit Adam, and Hoss and Joe had swept up the detritus from their battle with enough care to suit Ben.  The four cousins collapsed on the settee while Ben reclined in his armchair.

            “All we need now is the tree!” Joe crowed.

            Two days later, Hoss and Little Joe led a pair of sturdy draft horses dragging an enormous pine tree into the yard.  Josie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.  She had never seen such a large Christmas tree.

            “We got a great, big one, just like you wanted, Pa!” Hoss announced.

            “Great job, boys!” Ben declared.  “Just one little problem.”

            “What’s that?”

            “How do you plan to fit that into the house?”

            Hoss and Joe stared at each other for a second before turning back to look at their tree.  It was a colossal Douglas fir, at least twenty feet tall and eight feet across.  Adam laughed aloud.  There was no way that tree was fitting through the front door.  After a great deal of arguing in which each brother accused the other of selecting the tree, Little Joe and Hoss procured a saw and hacked eight feet off the bottom of the conifer.  They bound the branches down with ropes, hefted the tree awkwardly onto their shoulders, and, with some direction from Adam and Ben, guided it through the front door and into the great room.  Once the tree was securely set up next to the fireplace and the armchairs, coffee table, and settee had been scooted back to accommodate its girth, Adam and Ben hauled down boxes of trimmings from the attic, and the family spent the rest of the afternoon decorating.  They thought they would have to get the ladder from the barn in order to place the star on top, but Hoss and Josie figured out that if they stood on the landing of the staircase, Josie could climb onto Hoss’s shoulders and lean out to reach the treetop.  Neither Ben nor Adam could watch as Josie leaned precariously over the staircase railing, and both men sighed in relief when they heard her feet land safely back on the ground.

            That night after supper, the four men sat in the living room admiring their work, when Josie and Hop Sing emerged from the kitchen, each of them bearing three steaming coffee mugs.

            “We made hot chocolate!” Josie announced with a grin.

            Four sets of eyes, one deep brown, one hazel, one blue, and one green, lit up.  Josie and Hop Sing passed around the mugs to exclamations of thanks.  Before settling onto the settee between Adam and Little Joe, Josie grabbed a small book off an end table.  She handed it to Adam.

            “Would you read this?” she asked him.

            Adam glanced at the cover.  It was Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol.”  He grinned.

            “You always used to read this to me at Christmas,” Josie softly reminded him.

            “While drinking hot chocolate, if my memory serves me correctly,” Adam added.

            Josie nodded.  Adam patted the empty space next to him on the settee, and Josie curled up next to him, her stocking feet tucked up under her skirt and her hands curled around her mug.  She rested her head on Adam’s shoulder as he opened the book and began to read. 

            “Marley was dead: to begin with.  There is no doubt whatever about that,” he intoned in his rich baritone.

            Adam made it through the first two staves of the story before heads began to nod.  He tucked a slip of paper into the pages so they could pick it back up another night and then helped Hop Sing carry the now-empty mugs into the kitchen.  After a goodnight peck on the cheek from Josie, he retired to his bedroom, feeling more in the Christmas spirit than he had for many years.

******

            The Christmas party the following night was a great success.  The Cartwrights moved the furniture to the edges of the great room so there was a wide space for dancing.  Hop Sing had prepared heaping platters of hors d’oeuvres, and Ben had opened several bottles of the applejack he had made in early autumn.  Josie found the applejack only slightly less offensive than brandy, so she helped herself to extra cookies instead.

            Neighbors and friends came from far and wide for the party, and Josie was delighted to be able to spend the evening with Sally, Patience, and Margaret, though Simon coaxed her away from her friends several times for dances.  Simon, however, was a bit distracted that evening as he noticed how much time Little Joe was spending with his younger sister, Rebecca, and Simon suddenly understood Adam Cartwright a whole lot better.

            At the end of the evening, as the Cartwrights said farewell to the last of their departing guests, Simon pulled Josie aside. 

            “Hang on a second, Josie,” he said.  “I have something for you.”

            Josie watched with interest as Simon skittered over to his family’s wagon and extracted a large, flat parcel wrapped in brown paper from beneath the front seat.  He handed it shyly to Josie. 

            “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled, casting his gaze down to his boots.

            Josie gave him an inquisitive look and unwrapped the parcel.  She pulled out a wooden slab about a foot square with perfectly beveled edges.  On the front in large, black block letters were the words “Dr. Josephine Cartwright, MD.”  Josie’s mouth dropped open.

            “Simon!” she exclaimed.  “Oh my goodness!  Did you make this?”

            Simon nodded without looking back up at Josie.  “Thought you could use a shingle,” he murmured. 

            “It’s beautiful!” Josie said, her eyes shining.  “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

            “Weren’t nothin’,” he said, finally looking up and giving her a small smile.

            “Thank you so much,” Josie said sincerely.

            Simon looked like he wanted to say something more, but just then his mother called that the rest of the family was ready to leave.

            “I gotta go,” he said with a defeated sigh.

            “Merry Christmas, Simon,” Josie said and pecked him on the cheek.

            Simon was grateful it was dark outside so Josie could not see his face as it turned twenty shades of red.  “M- merry Christmas,” he stuttered and stumbled off the porch.  Josie waved goodbye and then skipped inside to show off her new shingle.

            Ben, Adam, Hoss, Little Joe, and Hop Sing admired Simon’s craftsmanship.

            “That young man does nice work,” Ben said.  “I should see if he wants to do some carpentry for me.  Make a little money on the side for himself.”
            Even Adam had to admit the shingle was exquisite.  “I’ll hang it next to the front door for you tomorrow,” he offered.
            Hoss and Little Joe, meanwhile, were shaking their heads.

            “That boy’s got it bad,” Hoss said.

            Josie’s medical training immediately kicked in.  “What?” she exclaimed in alarm.  “What has he got?  He seemed fine to me.”
            The four men exchanged amused glances. 

            “It ain’t physical, Josie,” Little Joe said slyly.  “Well, some of it is.”  He snorted with laughter, and Adam slapped him upside the head.
            Josie glared at Little Joe, ready to slap him herself for not making sense, but Hoss intervened.

            “He’s lovesick, Josie,” Hoss said, biting back a chortle.

            “For whom?” Josie asked innocently.  Adam screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as Little Joe and Hoss erupted in laughter.  Even Hop Sing shook his head in disbelief.

            Trying not to laugh, too, Ben laid a hand on Josie’s shoulder.  “For you, my dear,” he said gently.

            Josie looked at her uncle incredulously.  “Oh, Uncle Ben, be serious,” she said with a giggle.  When his genuine expression did not change, she flushed scarlet.  “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!” she insisted.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed!”  She tossed her head and flounced up the stairs to her bedroom, taking her new shingle with her.

            As soon as they heard Josie’s door slam, Ben, Hoss, Little Joe, and Hop Sing laughed anew.  Adam glowered at them with as much indignation as he could muster.
            “It’s not funny,” he said firmly.

            Hoss caught his breath.  “If it ain’t funny, how come you’re smilin’, Older Brother?”

            Adam cursed himself as a goofy smile spread across his face.  “All right,” he admitted, “maybe it’s a little funny.  But keep it down, would you?  Josie’ll hear, and she’s embarrassed enough already.”

            The other four stifled the rest of their laughter and set about cleaning up the party.

******

            No one uttered a word about Simon the next day, even as Adam fulfilled his promise to hang Josie’s new shingle next to the front door.  That evening, Adam read the third stave of “A Christmas Carol” aloud to the family while they sipped more of Josie and Hop Sing’s hot chocolate. 

            “I always liked this stave best,” Little Joe said.  “The Ghost of Christmas Present reminds me of Hoss.”

            Two days before Christmas, after returning from a trip into town he refused to talk about, Adam finished off the story, and on Christmas Eve, rather than ride into town for services, the four cousins listened while Ben read aloud the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke, as was their family tradition.  Josie rested her head lazily on Hoss’s shoulder as she listened to her uncle’s soothing deep voice, so much like her father’s, read the words she knew by heart:

            “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born   this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

            Josie’s favorite part of the evening, however, was after the story when Adam pulled out his guitar and led the family in a carol sing.  He began with a hauntingly beautiful solo of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” and then the rest of the family joined in for “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and a laughter-filled rendition of “Jingle Bells.”  They ended their evening with Adam and Josie singing the original German lyrics to “Silent Night,” Josie’s clear treble voice blending seamlessly with Adam’s rich baritone.  Just before bed, they all placed their gifts for one another under the tree, ready for Christmas morning.  As they bid one another goodnight, Adam embraced Josie just a bit longer than usual.

            “Merry Christmas, Little Sister,” he said, kissing the top of her head.  He could not think of any other words to express how thankful he was to have her on the Ponderosa, away from the war and with his family where she belonged, especially during this season of gratitude.

            “Merry Christmas, Older Brother,” she replied, smiling up at him.  Adam needed to say no more; Josie could read his face like an open book.
            Watching the scene between the two could-be siblings, Ben pretended to sneeze so he had an excuse to wipe his eyes. 
            They blew out the candles on the Christmas tree, and then five Cartwrights tromped happily up the stairs to their bedrooms.  Adam fell into bed nearly erupting with excitement over his gift for Josie.  He had been planning it since Bull Run had made it clear that Josie would be with them for some time.  It had taken a while to get Ben to agree to the idea, but Adam had won him over in the end. 

            Down the hall, Josie dropped off to sleep quickly, looking forward to seeing the others open their gifts the following morning. 

            The following morning came much earlier than Josie expected.

            It felt like her head had only just hit the pillow when there was a pounding on her bedroom door.

            “Wake up, Josie!”  Little Joe’s voice was muffled through the wood.  “It’s Christmas!”

            Josie cracked her eyes open a sliver and saw that her room was still pitch black.  She groaned and threw back the blankets, shivering in the cold air.  She stumbled over to her door and flung it open; Little Joe and Hoss nearly fell into the room on top of her.

            “C’mon, Josie!” Hoss said, excited as a child.  “It’s Christmas morning!”

            “Barely!” Josie replied grumpily.  “What time is it, anyway?”

            “Four-fifteen,” Little Joe said impatiently, as if Josie had grossly overslept. 

            Josie groaned.   “Is Uncle Ben up?” she asked.  She knew ranchers rose early, but this seemed ridiculous.

            Little Joe and Hoss shifted uncomfortably.  “No,” Hoss admitted.  “Pa gets awful sore if we wake him up before five-thirty.”
            “Your father and I have that in common,” Josie intoned drily. 

            A floorboard creaked in the next bedroom, and the three cousins froze.  Within moments, a shaft of light hit them as Adam appeared in Josie’s doorway bearing a candle.  He had not bothered with his dressing gown and stood there in his black-and-white-striped nightshirt, his raven hair sticking out at all angles.  He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and scowled.

            “What is all the ruckus about?” he groused.  “Do you three know what time it is?”

            “Four-fifteen, or so I’ve been told,” Josie said, glaring at Hoss and Joe.

            “Go back to bed,” Adam ordered.  “Or at least shut up.  Some of us are trying to sleep.”  He turned around and stumbled back to his bedroom, his bare feet slapping indignantly on the floorboards.

            “Merry Christmas to you, too, you old grouch,” Little Joe muttered.

            Josie gave Hoss and Little Joe one last dirty look and pushed them out of her room.  She could not help but giggle, though, as she crawled back into bed.  Part of her agreed with Adam that the hour was far too early for mortal man, but another part of her had wanted to shove past him and race downstairs with Hoss and Little Joe.

            Back in his own bedroom, Adam stifled a chuckle as he lay back down.  Little Joe and Hoss had been obnoxious on Christmas morning ever since they were old enough to understand what Christmas was.  As irritating a quality as this could be in two grown men, today it made Adam smile.  After the tumultuous events of the past few years, it was nice to know that some things never changed.

            An hour and a half later, Adam’s eyes popped open once more.  He glanced at his clock, saw that it was quarter of six, and swung his long legs out of bed.  He pulled on the jeans he had thrown over his desk chair the night before, buttoned up a clean shirt, and threw on socks and boots before heading downstairs.

            Usually the first or second person downstairs in the morning, Adam saw Ben, Hoss, Josie, and Little Joe already sitting in the living room waiting for him.  Josie and Ben were calmly sipping cups of coffee, but Hoss and Little Joe were bouncing in their seats.  Adam realized he was the only one not still wearing his pajamas.

            “It’s about time!” Hoss declared when he saw Adam appear at the top of the stairs.

            “Merry Christmas to you, too, Younger Brother,” Adam said, flashing a smile.  He sat down on the settee next to Josie and reached for the coffee pot and a clean cup.  Hoss and Joe looked over at Ben expectantly.

            “Well, what are you waiting for, boys?” Ben said cheerily.  “Dive in!”

            Hoss and Little Joe attacked their stockings hanging on the mantel.  As they sat on the floor digging through their treasures, Adam stepped over them and retrieved his, Josie’s, and Ben’s stockings and handed them out.  Josie thrust her hand into hers and grinned as she pulled out a fistful of peppermint sticks. 

            “I think I know who these are from,” she said, and Adam winked at her.  She also extracted some chocolates, a silk bookmark, and, hidden deep in the toe of her stocking, a fat orange.  “Ooo!” she squealed.  She loved oranges and had not had one since leaving Philadelphia.

            Ben, Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe had similar hauls in their stockings, though instead of a bookmark, Little Joe got a new deck of playing cards and Hoss received a neckerchief. 

            “Time for presents!” Josie shrieked and leapt for the pile under the tree.  She grabbed the small package containing Hoss’s new gloves and played a brief game of tug-of-war with Little Joe as they argued over who got to present it to him.  In the end, they each held onto a corner and handed the gift to Hoss together, their eyes shining in anticipation of his reaction.

            Hoss tore open the wrapping paper and stopped dead when he saw the brown-leather work gloves inside.  He stared at them for several long moments before delicately lifting one and slipping it over his matching hand.  He held up his gloved hand, marveling at the perfect fit.

            He managed to force out only a single word.  “How?”

            Josie and Little Joe grinned at each other as Ben rose from his seat to inspect the gloves.  He, too, looked over at the youngest Cartwrights in amazement.

            “Yes, how?” he asked.  “It’s nearly impossible to find gloves that fit Hoss.”

            “Josh Grayson,” Little Joe answered.  “We talked him into a special order.  He did nice work, too.”

            “How did you get the size so exact?” Ben asked, still scrutinizing the glove on his middle son’s hand.

            “Oh, we had help from a little mosquito,” Josie replied, and she, Little Joe, and Adam burst out laughing.

            Hoss slid on the second glove and stretched his hands out to admire them.  Tears leaked out of the corners of his sky-blue eyes.  “Thank you,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.  He rose and gathered up Josie and Little Joe in one enormous, too-tight hug.  “Thank you!”

            Once Hoss had pulled himself together, the family continued opening gifts.  Ben was delighted by his new tobacco pouch and put it to use at once.  Adam was touched by Little Joe’s thoughtfulness in getting him “Great Expectations,” and Josie was gracious enough not to mention that it had been her idea.  Finally, Josie pulled a large package out from under the tree and dropped in into Adam’s lap.  He braced himself for impact but was surprised when the lightweight package fairly bounced off his thighs.  He glanced at Josie suspiciously and then slowly unwrapped the gift.

            The wrapping paper fell away to reveal a blue-and-white patchwork quilt.  Adam had not known what to expect from Josie, but this was nowhere close to even his wildest guesses.  He stood up and let the blanket unfold.  It was a lap quilt, and it looked vaguely familiar.  It took Adam several moments to figure out why.

            “This looks like the quilt from Aunt Rachel’s sitting room,” he said in disbelief.

            “That’s precisely what it is!” Josie exclaimed, clapping her hands delightedly.  “Well done, Adam.”

            Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe watched the scene in bewilderment.  They assumed this must be yet another private joke between Adam and Josie, but when they saw the puzzled expression on Adam’s face, they realized he was baffled, too.

            “Uh, Josie,” Adam began slowly, still holding up the quilt, “please don’t think me ungrateful, but why are you giving me the quilt from Aunt Rachel’s sitting room?”
            All eyes turned to Josie.

            “Because your mother made it,” she said softly.

            Adam’s expression instantly dropped from one of bewilderment to one of awe.  Ben, too, stared at the quilt in astonishment.  Elizabeth had once mentioned to him that she had done some quilting in her younger days before they met, but Ben had not known any of her work still existed.  He stood frozen next to his armchair, gazing across the room at this unexpected artifact from his late wife.

            Adam sat down heavily on the settee, the quilt draped across his lap.  He ran one trembling finger slowly down a row of tiny, even stitches.  His mother had sewn each and every one of the thousands of stitches in this quilt.  She had held it in her hands hour after hour, piecing it together with a precision and meticulousness Adam both related to and admired.  His father had given him a portrait of his mother and told him stories about her, but here was something she had made, something she had held.  He threw the quilt around his shoulders, pulled it tightly across his chest, buried his face in it, and let his mother hold him for the first time in his memory. 

            The other Cartwrights watched in silence as Adam’s shoulders shook a few times, then stilled.  He took a long, shuddering breath, and raised his head, unbidden tears streaming down his face.  His memory flashed back to that Christmas twelve years ago when Hannah had wrapped this very quilt around his shoulders as he sat shivering next to the fire in Rachel’s sitting room after he had run out into a snowstorm.  A fresh flood of tears rose to his eyes, and Adam buried his face in the quilt again as he realized his mother had been holding him that day, too.  

            Ben crossed the room to his eldest son, but Hoss and Little Joe hung back.  They understood all too well how much it meant to Adam to have something from his mother, and they did not want to intrude on such a private moment.

            As Ben sat next to Adam, he, too, reached out a cautious finger and ran it delicately down one of the seams now enclosing Adam’s shoulders.  Tears rose to his eyes, and he put an arm around his son and drew him close.

            Josie felt incredibly awkward as she watched her uncle and cousin.  She had not expected such an emotional response from Adam and she felt terrible for eliciting it; she knew how hard he worked to remain stoic.

            “I’m sorry,” she sputtered.  “I didn’t mean to put a damper on everything.”

            Adam looked up at his cousin, struck afresh by her resemblance to his mother, and smiled at her.

            “No, Josie,” he said, swallowing hard.  “This is the best gift I’ve ever received.  Thank you.”  He removed the quilt from his shoulders, handed it to his father, and stood up to hug Josie.  “Merry Christmas,” he said.

            “Merry Christmas, Adam.”

            After they broke apart, Adam gazed over at the quilt, which Ben had folded and set carefully next to him on the settee.  “I can’t believe how many times I sat right next to this quilt and didn’t know it was my mother’s,” Adam said, shaking his head.

            “I didn’t know, either, until last summer when I stayed with Aunt Rachel,” Josie said.  “She had redecorated the sitting room in red and green, but she still had this quilt across the back of one of the armchairs, which I thought was strange since it no longer matched the décor.  You know how Aunt Rachel is.”

            Adam rolled his eyes skyward.  He knew all too well how Aunt Rachel was.

            “Anyway,” Josie continued, “I asked her about it one evening, and she said your mother had sewn it, and she could not bring herself to stow it away.”

            “How did you talk her into giving you something so special?” Ben asked, once more running his hand lovingly across the quilt.

            “That turned out to be pretty easy, actually,” Josie explained with a wicked grin.

            A horrible thought crossed Adam’s mind.  “Did you steal this?!” he blurted, his eyes wide.

            Josie threw him a look of unmitigated indignation.  “Of course not!” she huffed.  “I spoke to her about it, and she gave in quite easily.  I think it irked her that someone with such limited fashion sense as I possess noticed it no longer matched the room.  And secondly,” Josie paused to smile slyly at Adam, “I may have reminded her that she owed you a little warmth.”

            Adam stared silently at Josie for a count of three and then roared with laughter.  Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe smiled in bafflement once again.  For the sake of family harmony, no one had ever told Ben about Adam’s brush with hypothermia that Christmas of 1849, and now Ben could not fathom how coaxing a quilt out of his sister-in-law could be so funny that his niece and oldest son were crying with laughter.

            As Adam dabbed at his streaming eyes, Ben decided to move things along.  “Well, boys,” he announced, “don’t you think it’s time Josie got her gifts?”
            All three of the brothers grinned broadly in agreement.  Ben directed Josie to sit down while Hoss extracted one last package from under the tree. 

            “This is from me and Little Joe,” he said as he handed it to her.  Joe bounded up next to Hoss and watched eagerly as Josie unwrapped the gift.

            Josie gasped as she extracted the shiny revolver and black-leather gun belt from the open package.  She picked up the gun and ran a hand admiringly down the barrel.

            “Colt 1851 Navy,” she said approvingly.  Hoss and Little Joe grinned.

            “That’s right,” Little Joe said.  

            Josie hefted the gun with her right hand.  A .36-caliber, it was a little shorter and lighter than the .44s the Cartwright men carried, but the Colt Navy was well-known as a deadly accurate and reliable weapon, carried by thousands of men both across the West and in the war back east.  Josie could not have been more pleased.

            “We looked at some .44s, but this one has almost no recoil,” Little Joe said.  “You won’t have to brace for it.”

            “Check out the barrel near the cylinder,” Hoss urged.

            Josie checked.  There, engraved in fine script, were the words, “In case we can’t be there. Love, Hoss and Joe.” 

            “Thank you!” she exclaimed.  She laid the gun carefully on the coffee table so she could hug her cousins.  Then she picked up the gun belt, buckled it on over her emerald-green dressing gown, and spun the revolver expertly around her trigger finger before dropping it neatly in the holster.  “How do I look?” she asked the family.

            “Like a force to be reckoned with,” Ben said, smiling at her.

            “Yes, the velvet slippers lend a truly terrifying element to the entire ensemble,” Adam teased.

            Josie blew raspberries at Adam and removed the gun and belt.  “Now you don’t have to worry so much about me riding into town alone,” she said.

            “That was the idea,” Hoss replied.

            “Josie, if you want any more presents, you better run upstairs and get dressed,” Ben told her.

            “Why?”

            “Because it’s freezing outside, and you’re not traipsing out to the barn in your nightgown and slippers,” Ben explained.  “Now scoot!”

            Josie raised an eyebrow at her uncle but did as she was told.  She had a strong feeling she knew what her gift from Ben would be.  Up in her room, she pulled on some jeans and a clean shirt, stuffed the shirttail into her waistband, and put on a pair of thick, woolen socks.  She grabbed her boots and carried them downstairs to put them on.

            Once all five Cartwrights were bundled up against the elements – snow had begun to fall again – Ben grasped Josie’s elbow and led her out to the barn.  Even Adam was nearly bouncing with excitement now.  He had been planning Josie’s gift for months, and the suspense of waiting to present it to her had been nearly unbearable.

            As they reached the barn door, Hoss ordered Josie to close her eyes.  She squeezed them tightly shut, and Hoss waved his hand in front of her face a few times to be certain she could not see.  Satisfied her eyes were truly closed, Hoss flung open the barn door, and Ben and Adam guided her inside.

            “Keep your eyes shut, Josie!” Ben said as he let go of her elbow and jogged over to a stall near the end of the barn. 

            Josie laughed at the ridiculousness of the entire situation as she stood waiting, Adam’s hand still on her arm.  As she had expected, she heard hooves clopping their way toward her.

            “Ok,” Ben said, “open your eyes.”

            Josie’s eyes sprang open, and she jumped backward in surprise.  She had expected to see The General standing in front of her, perhaps with a silly bow around his neck.  She and the old horse had become good friends over the past few months, and Josie thought Ben was going to make a gift of him.  But instead of the familiar tall, blue roan, before Josie stood a small Appaloosa mare.  She had a dark brown base with a white blanket over her hips and rump.  The large white patch was dappled with brown spots the same color as the little mare’s base, and her face was smeared with more white, as if someone had wiped off a paintbrush on her face.  Stunned, Josie stared, her mouth agape.

            “Well, what do you think?” Ben asked.

            Josie squeaked several times before she could form complete words.  “Is- is she for me?” she asked.

            “Of course!” Ben declared.  “Merry Christmas!”

            “Oh my goodness!”  Josie stepped tentatively up to the mare and reached out a hand to stroke her nose.  The petite horse nickered and nudged Josie’s hand.  Josie giggled.  “Uncle Ben, she’s beautiful,” Josie breathed.  “Thank you!”  She tore herself away from her new mount to hug her uncle. 

            Ben embraced her back.  “I know you and The General have been getting along well,” he began, “but he’s an old man and has earned his retirement.  This little girl here is only four years old.  She’s gentle, but she has a bit more spring in her step.”
 
            “I won’t have to jump so high to get up on her, either,” Josie added.

            Little Joe sniggered.  “That’s for sure!” he snorted. 

            Josie turned away from him and faced her new horse once more.  “It’s ok, girl,” she said, stroking the Appaloosa’s nose again.  “Just ignore the nasty little boy.”
            “She’s small,” Ben admitted, “but she’s quick, and she can run all day.”

            “Sounds just like Josie,” Hoss quipped. 

            “What’s her name?” Josie asked.

            “Oh, I think the man I bought her from called her ‘Bunny,’ or something silly like that.  I’m sure you can think of a better name,” Ben said.

            Josie thought for a moment.  “Well,” she said at last, “she’s certainly not the commanding presence The General is.  She’s more like the quick, stealthy scouts the generals send out in front of the army for reconnaissance.”  She stood and studied the horse a moment longer and then snapped her fingers.  “That’s it!  Scout!”  She patted the mare’s neck. 

            Ben nodded approvingly.  “That’s an excellent name,” he said.

            Josie was so taken with Scout that she had not noticed Adam slip away to another stall at the end of the barn.  A sharp bark, however, caught her attention, and she peered around Scout to see Adam leading a very leggy, shaggy brown dog from the end stall.  Adam’s grin could have lit up all of Virginia City as he led the tall canine toward Josie.  Though just over two feet tall at the shoulders, the dog bounced along beside Adam like a puppy.  Josie’s mouth dropped open again.

            “Merry Christmas!” Adam cheered as he handed the dog’s leash to Josie.

            Josie dropped to her knees and squealed as the dog put his giant front paws on her thighs and started bathing her face with his tongue.  She threw her arms around the dog’s neck and hugged him. 

            “Adam!” Josie exclaimed.  “Oh my goodness!  I’ve always wanted a dog, but Mama never let me have one.  Thank you!”  She leaped to her feet and kissed Adam’s cheek before dropping down next to her new dog again.  “How old is he?” she asked as the dog recommenced licking her face.

            “Six months old today,” Adam informed her.

            Josie froze in place and stared at the brown, wire-haired pooch.  “Wait,” she said.  “What?!”  She stood up and looked down at the dog, though she did not have to look down very far.  The animal’s shoulders rose most of the way to her hips.  He was larger than most full-grown dogs she had seen.  She reached down and put her arms under the dog’s chest and back legs and braced herself to lift him.

            “I wouldn’t try that,” Adam cautioned her.  “He weighs nearly a hundred pounds.”

            “At six months?!” Josie exclaimed.

            “Yeah,” Adam said, pleased with both himself and the dog.  “He’s an Irish Wolfhound.  He’ll be another foot taller and a good sixty pounds heavier by the time he stops growing.”

            Josie’s eyes bugged out as they shifted from the dog to Adam and back to the dog.  Her mouth broke into a huge grin.  “Wow!” she shouted. 

            “That’s my kinda dog,” Hoss said approvingly.

            “He’s a sight hound,” Adam continued, kneeling next to Josie and her new pet.  “They’re designed to see their prey rather than smell it, and they can run long distances.  The Irish have been using them for centuries to hunt wolves.  I thought he could accompany you when you ride out to town or to see a patient.”

            Josie grinned and scratched the dog’s head.  “He’s beautiful,” she said.  “Thank you.  But where did you get him?” 

            “I ordered him from a breeder in Boston,” Adam said.

            “That explains all those mysterious trips into town,” Hoss said.

            “I was getting telegrams each time he arrived in a new city,” Adam explained.  “I wanted to make sure he would be here on time.”

            Ben smiled as he watched his niece ruffle the fur on her new dog’s head.  He had resisted when Adam first suggested getting Josie a dog – especially one so large – but he could not deny how useful it could be for Josie to be accompanied around the territory by such an animal.  One look at this dog, particularly when he was full grown, would send most anyone fleeing in the opposite direction.

            “Well, come on, everyone,” Ben said, clapping Adam on the shoulder.  “It’s cold out here.  Let’s get back in the house.  Josie, you can bring your puppy some turkey after dinner.”

            Josie’s face fell.  She had already picked up the dog’s leash to bring him into the house with her.  “You mean I have to leave him in the barn?” she asked, her eyes glistening with disappointment.

            Ben blinked a few times as he gathered his thoughts.  He thought it was obvious that such a large animal would live in the barn with the horses.  He was nearly horse-sized himself.  “Josie,” Ben began, “look at him.  He’s huge.  You don’t honestly think he can live in the house, do you?”

            “Aw, come on, Pa,” Hoss piped up.  “I’m huge, and you let me live in the house.”

            “It is Christmas, Pa,” Little Joe added.

            Josie stuck her lower lip out just enough to make herself look sad but not like she was pouting.  She lowered her head and looked up at Ben with just her eyes.  “Besides, Uncle Ben,” she said, her voice wavering slightly, “he’s just a baby.”  She dropped to her knees and put her arms around the dog’s shaggy neck. 

            Ben never would have fallen for such an act from one of his sons, but he melted in the face of Josie’s pleading gaze.  He sighed heavily.  “All right,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat.  “But he stays OFF of the furniture, is that clear?”

            Adam had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing.  He had fallen prey to Josie’s sad face more than once himself.
            Josie squealed with delight and hopped up to hug her uncle once more.  “Thank you!” she said.  She picked the puppy’s leash back up and led him out of the barn. 
            When they were all snugly back inside, the puppy did a lap of the first floor and sniffed everything.  As they watched, Adam turned to Josie.
            “What are you going to call him?” he asked.

            Josie considered this for a moment.  “Something Irish, perhaps,” she said.  She thought a moment more.  “I’ve got it!  Cú Chulainn!” 
            Adam smiled, but everyone else looked confused.

            “Coochie-what?” Hoss asked.

            Josie giggled.  “Cú Chulainn, Hoss,” she said.  “It’s from Irish folklore.  Cú Chulainn was a great warrior.  His name means ‘the Hound of Ulster.’”
            Hoss looked only slightly less confused, and one corner of Little Joe’s upper lip curled up in distaste.

            “That might be a little complicated,” Ben suggested.

            “You may be right,” Josie said, looking at Hoss and Joe’s faces.  She cast about for inspiration, and her gaze came to rest on Adam’s new copy of “Great Expectations.”  She grinned.  “How about ‘Pip’?” she said brightly.  At the sound of the name, the puppy paused where he was sniffing Ben’s armchair and turned his head to look at his new mistress.  Everyone laughed.
            “I think that’s it, Josie,” Adam said.

            “C’mere, Pip!” Josie called.  The gangly puppy ambled over to her.  “Good boy!” Josie praised him and scratched his ears.  The young dog wagged his tail happily.

            After their enormous Christmas feast, Josie spent the remainder of the day teaching Pip some basic commands.  She was pleased with how quickly he learned to sit, and she and Hoss planned out a training schedule for the young dog.  They wanted Pip to learn to run alongside Scout as Josie rode and to seek out individual members of the family.  Josie also suggested they should teach him to run home from town alone.
“That way if I need to stay late at the clinic, I can tie a note to his collar and send him home, and you won’t have to worry about me!” she exclaimed.
Adam thought this a bit ambitious, but he knew that if anyone could help Josie train the dog properly, it was Hoss.  That night, despite Ben’s protestations, Josie led Pip upstairs to her bedroom, where she fashioned a bed for him out of a pile of old blankets.  The puppy curled up happily and was soon snoring.
Adam poked his head in Josie’s room before he went to bed.  He smiled at the sight of Josie sitting up and reading while her already faithful pet slept on the floor between his mistress and the entrance to her room.

“You like him, then?” Adam asked, his eyes twinkling.

“I love him!” Josie declared.  “Thank you!”  She held out her arms to him just like she had when she was a little girl with the measles.  Adam stepped carefully over Pip and leaned down to hug Josie.  “Do you like your quilt?” Josie asked.

“More than anything,” Adam said.  “I love you, Little Sister.”

“I love you, too, Older Brother,” Josie replied.

Adam bid her goodnight, kissed the top of her head, and stepped back over the dog and out of the room.  He nearly bumped into his father in the hall.

“That dog’s going to live his entire life in the house, isn’t he?” Ben asked.

Adam smiled.  “Looks like it,” he said happily.

Ben dropped the irritable look on his face and smiled back at his son.  “I think we’ve all had a good Christmas,” he ventured.

“We sure have,” Adam said.  “Goodnight, Pa.”

Ben squeezed Adam’s shoulder.  “Goodnight, son.”  He watched as Adam slipped into his own bedroom and closed the door.  Before the door closed fully, Ben caught a glimpse of Elizabeth’s quilt folded up neatly across the foot of Adam’s bed.  Ben smiled again.  It had been a very good Christmas, indeed.

Ponderosa Ranch
Nevada Territory
1862

            Snowstorms kept the Cartwrights inside the ranch house for the remaining week of 1861 and into the new year, so Josie and Hoss used the time to train Pip.  By the time the snow began to let up in late January, they could call out any family member’s name, and Pip would find that person; for a sight hound, he had good scent-tracking skills.  There had been a momentary dilemma when Hoss and Josie realized that “Josie” and “Joe” were too similar for the young dog to differentiate.  Hoss suggested they use Little Joe’s middle name, Francis, but Little Joe threatened swift and terrible vengeance, so they decided on “L.J.” instead.  Josie and Hoss had great fun teaching Pip to seek out family members from greater and greater distances and had quite the laugh one afternoon when after ordering Pip to “Go find Ben!” the dog raced out to the barn and dragged Ben back to the house by the seat of his pants.  Ben, still not the canine’s biggest fan, had not found the incident nearly so funny.

            In mid-February, the entire family was cheered by the news that a heretofore unknown Union general named Ulysses S. Grant had captured two forts in Tennessee.  This opened up the Tennessee and Cumberland rivers for the Union, and Union supporters across the continent hoped their army could use these waterways to launch a full-scale invasion of the South.

            By early March, the snow had begun to clear, and all five Cartwrights looked forward to the warm, sunny days of spring.  Josie came home from the clinic one evening and announced that Dr. Martin was taking a two-week vacation to visit family in Carson City, so she would be staying in the rooms above the clinic while he was away.  Adam wrinkled his nose at the news.

            “Why can’t you work from here?” he asked.

            “Because if someone needs a doctor, the clinic in town is the first place they’ll look,” Josie explained patiently.  “Besides, I don’t have the proper facilities here.  I can’t operate an entire clinic out of the guestroom, and the bunkhouse is full.”

            Josie had a point.  The guestroom was fine for the typically simple complaints of the patients who sought Josie out on the Ponderosa, but she certainly could not perform surgery or deliver a baby there.  And the bunkhouse was full to capacity just then; they had recently hired a dozen more hands to help with the spring roundup and branding.

            “You’ve got me there,” Adam admitted. 

            “We’ll drop into town from time to time to see how you’re getting along,” Ben added. 

            “And if I need anything, I’ll send Pip home with a note,” Josie grinned.

            Ben shook his head.  Hoss and Josie had successfully – and quickly – trained the hound to travel alone to and from town, and even Ben had to concede that the animal might yet prove useful.

            Josie, Scout, and Pip departed for Virginia City the following morning.  The Cartwright men had a good chuckle as they watched her ride away.

            “There goes the safest young lady in Nevada,” Ben quipped.

            Apart from her still-growing wolfhound – Pip had grown another four inches and put on thirty pounds since Christmas – Josie wore her Colt Navy on her hip and carried a rifle in her saddle scabbard.  Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe smiled in amusement. 

The men were kept busy rounding up the cattle, branding the new calves, and repairing fences and line shacks damaged in the winter storms, but every couple of days, one of them slipped away to check on Josie in town.  When Adam visited at the end of the first week, he was pleased to find Margaret Crawford assisting Josie at the clinic.  Margaret had been fascinated by Josie’s tales of treating illnesses and injuries, so Josie had brought her on as a nurse and was training her to stitch up small wounds and treat fevers, much as she had done with Hoss at home.  While Adam was there, Patience Lovejoy and Sally Cass both popped in to say hello to Josie, and Adam was thrilled when Patience invited Josie to her family’s home for dinner that evening.

Josie loved running the clinic alone, and halfway through her second week, she fantasized again of how grand it would be to set up a true clinic on the Ponderosa.  She thought she should speak to her uncle about it.  She had a modest but steady income from treating patients, so perhaps Ben would build her a small clinic and let her repay him in installments.  She was daydreaming about how she would arrange her office when she heard a knock at the door.  It was nearly noon, and Josie had had no patients that morning, so she leapt from her chair and flung open the door almost immediately with Pip right at her heels.
“Uncle Ben!” she cried happily when she saw the familiar figure on the porch.  Pip let out a joyful yip and pushed his head past Josie so Ben could scratch him.
“Hi there, Josephine!” he replied, his dark eyes lighting up.  “I was in town for some supplies, and I thought I’d see if my best girl would care to have lunch with me.”  He leaned in to scratch Pip’s head.

Josie grinned.  “I’d love to!” she replied.  “Just let me lock up.”  She had just turned back into the clinic when she heard someone call her name.  She turned around again and saw Sheriff Roy Coffee and one of his deputies riding up.

“Dr. Cartwright!” Roy called again as the two men dismounted.  “Henry here could use some help.”

Josie slipped past Ben and raced over to the sheriff and his deputy, who was clutching his upper left arm.  Blood soaked the man’s entire shirtsleeve.

“What happened?” Josie asked as she pried the man’s fingers off his arm so she could examine it.  A neckerchief had been tied hastily around the wound, which had, fortunately, nearly stopped bleeding.

“We were dealing with some claim jumpers over at the mining camps, and they started shooting at us,” Roy explained.  “Henry here took a bullet.”

Josie loosened the neckerchief and saw a neat bullet entry hole in the front of the man’s arm and an exit hole on the other side.

“In and out, clean as a whistle,” Josie said.  “It’s just a flesh wound, but I’ll need to clean it out and stitch it up.  Come inside.”

Roy followed Josie toward the clinic door, but Henry stayed put, his hand once again clutching his arm.

“Come on, Henry,” Roy urged.

“I told you, I don’t want no woman doctor,” Henry protested.

Roy cast an embarrassed look at Ben.  “Henry,” he pleaded, “come inside.  Dr. Cartwright will get you fixed up just fine.”

Henry did not budge.  “I’ll wait for Doc Martin,” he insisted stubbornly.

Ben was furious.  He had known and respected Henry for years, and he took the man’s rejection of his niece personally.  Ben opened his mouth to give Henry a piece of his mind, but Josie beat him to the punch.

“Suit yourself,” she said simply with a shrug of her shoulders.  “Dr. Martin should be back in five days.  That wound should be good and infected by then.  But who knows?  Maybe you’ll get lucky, and he won’t have to amputate your arm.”  She started back inside.

“Amputate?” Henry asked weakly.  Josie stopped and turned back toward him.

“Oh yeah,” she said, her eyes wide.  “Once an infection sets in, amputation is the only way to keep it from spreading to your heart and killing you.  But I bet a big, strong man like you could learn to get by with only one arm.  Of course, you won’t be any good as a lawman anymore, but I’m sure you could figure something else out.”
Henry shifted from foot to foot for several moments.  “Fine,” he said at last, thoroughly defeated.  He scowled and slunk into the clinic behind Josie, who glowed with triumph.

“This will only take a few moments,” Josie said to Ben.  “Do you mind waiting?”

“Not at all,” Ben replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement.  As Josie closed the door behind her, she was certain she heard her uncle and the sheriff laughing.

******

            After her two-week stint as Virginia City’s primary physician, and especially her expert repair work on one of the town’s deputies, Josie was busier than ever with patients coming to the ranch.  Adam and Little Joe took a day off from their cattle duties to clear out and patch up the old bunkhouse near the old house so Josie would have somewhere to treat her patients.  It was not an ideal setup for a clinic – there was no separation between Josie’s office and the exam area, and she did not have cabinets for her supplies – but it was better than dragging the sick and injured into the Cartwrights’ front room.

            The weather in April was beautiful, and when Josie was not in town or treating patients in her own makeshift clinic, she waited on the porch for her boys to return from their day’s work.  No matter how hard their day had been, all four Cartwright men broke into wide grins when they rode into the yard and saw Josie waiting for them, her faithful hound at her side.

            One evening, five horses rode into the yard instead of four.  Josie had been upstairs washing up after treating a neighboring rancher’s young daughter at the old bunkhouse, and she came downstairs, wiping her wet hands on her skirt.  The front door opened just as she reached the floor, and Hoss’s grimy, sweaty face poked in. 

            “Hey, Josie!” he greeted her cheerily.  “Lookee who we found!”  He stepped aside to allow Simon Croft to step into the house.

            “Hi, Josie,” he said shyly, removing his hat.

            “Hi, Simon,” she replied, suddenly feeling very awkward.  She and Simon had not spoken much since Christmas when she discovered his feelings for her.

            “Shingle looks good,” he said, pointing behind him toward the front door.

            “Yes, it does, thank you,” Josie said.  “I’ve been meaning to have Adam move it to the old bunkhouse where I’ve been treating patients, but he’s been awfully busy.”

            “You’re telling me!” Adam exclaimed as he stepped into the house behind Simon.  He hung his black hat from a peg next to the door and unbuckled his gun belt and placed it on the sideboard.  He, too, was covered in dirt and sweat, as were Little Joe and Ben, who entered the house behind him.  Ben clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder, causing a small cloud of dust to puff up from the younger man’s shirt.

            “We found this one over near the high country while we were rounding up strays,” he said.  “He looked too skinny, so we thought we better bring him home and fill him up with some of Hop Sing’s cooking.”

            Simon grinned.  “I was rounding up strays, too,” he told Josie.  “Have to do it every year.  Our cattle just love Ponderosa grass.”

            “What’s not to love?” Ben said.  “Come on, boys.  Let’s get cleaned up.” 

            The five filthy men took turns in the washroom cleaning off most of the grime.  To avoid having to make awkward conversation with Simon, Josie spent the time helping Hop Sing finish up supper.

            “Ugh,” she said as she stirred more butter into the mashed potatoes.

            “What?” Hop Sing asked as he checked that the others were out of earshot.  “Is something wrong with the potatoes?”
            Josie giggled.  “No,” she replied.  “I’ve just been doing such a good job avoiding Simon since Christmas, and now they’ve brought him home to dinner.”
            “It was bound to happen eventually,” Hop Sing said sagely.  He cast Josie a mischievous smile.  “Would you like me to ‘accidentally’ spill something on him?” 
            The pair broke into laughter.  “That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer,” Josie said.

            Supper was not as uncomfortable as Josie had feared.  Though Simon sat next to Josie, Ben kept him engaged in conversation about the Lucky Star’s upcoming cattle drive to Sacramento.  Adam watched his cousin avoid making eye contact with Simon and sensed her embarrassment.  He wished there was something he could have done to prevent putting her in this situation, but Ben had invited Simon to dinner as soon as they had spotted him that afternoon; Adam had gotten no chance to tactfully intervene. 

Hoss and Little Joe, however, did not seem to realize that Josie did not reciprocate Simon’s romantic feelings, and the pair of brothers smiled slyly at Josie all through supper, as if hosting Simon were the luckiest thing that ever happened to her.  After dessert was cleared away, Hoss looked out the window and commented on how beautiful the moon looked.  Everyone joined him at the window and agreed it was quite lovely that evening.

“You know,” Hoss said, nudging Simon in the ribs with his elbow, “I bet you could see it a lot better out on the porch.”

“Oh, yeah!” Little Joe chimed in with a not-so-subtle wink at Josie.  “It always looks better out on the porch!”

Simon’s face lit up.  “That’s a great idea!” he exclaimed.  “C’mon, Josie, let’s go have a look!”

Josie threw a desperate look at Adam.

“You know, it’s probably cold out there –“ Adam began.

“That’s true,” Simon interrupted.  “You better get your jacket, Josie.”

Josie had little recourse but to collect her jacket and go out onto the porch with Simon.  Adam gave her an apologetic look.  “Sorry,” he mouthed silently to her.  Josie shrugged.  She appreciated his attempt.

Simon led Josie onto the porch, where they stood at the railing and looked up at the moon.

“Well, there it is,” Josie said quickly.  She turned to go back into the house, but Simon caught her arm.  “Oh dear,” Josie thought.  “Here it comes.”

“Josie?” Simon asked quietly. 

Josie forced a pleasant smile in reply.

“It’s been so good having you nearby,” Simon continued.  “You know, I thought about you a lot after that first time we met as kids.”

“You don’t say.”  Josie shifted uncomfortably.

Simon did not notice Josie’s discomfort.  “I sure did,” he said, taking her hands in his.  “You’re the only girl who’s ever caught my attention like that.”

Josie smiled at the flattery despite herself.  It was not that she found Simon unsuitable in any way; she simply was not interested in romance at the moment.  She had finally gained some respect as a doctor in Virginia City, and she wanted to focus on building her practice, not courting.  Unfortunately, Simon was a little too encouraged by Josie’s smile, and he leaned in to kiss her.  Josie realized at the last second what was about to happen, and she turned her head so Simon’s lips landed on her cheek.  He immediately stepped back, ashamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” he stammered.  “I should have asked you first.  Josie, I’m really sorry.”  He continued to splutter for a moment, but Josie held up a hand to cut him off.
“It’s all right, Simon,” she assured him.  There were muffled voices and a loud clunk from inside the house, and they both turned toward the window, but seeing nothing, Josie continued, “Please don’t misunderstand me.  I like you.  I really do.  You’re a great friend, but that’s all.  I’m just beginning to build my medical career, and that is what I need to focus on.  You understand, don’t you?”  She smiled hopefully at him.

Simon tried not to show his disappointment.  “Yeah,” he said reluctantly.  “But let’s at least actually be friends, all right?  I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“Like they have been,” Josie added.

“Exactly.”  Simon extended his right hand to Josie, who grasped it warmly and shook.  Simon offered her his arm and escorted her back into the house, where Ben was pouring brandy for everyone.

Meanwhile, as Josie and Simon conversed on the porch, Adam watched from the window behind Ben’s desk, his nose mere millimeters from the glass.
“Adam,” Ben said in exasperation, “stop being so nosy.  They’re fine.”  Little Joe and Hoss, who were playing checkers near the fireplace, snickered at their older brother.
Adam sighed.  His father was right.  But just before he turned away, he saw Simon take Josie’s hands.  Adam stiffened.  “Except he’s holding her hands!” he exclaimed.
“Wow, really?” Ben said, suddenly intensely curious.  He had been certain Josie harbored no feelings for young Mr. Croft, so he was surprised Josie would let him take her hand.  He rushed over to the window and shouldered Adam out of the way so he could see.  Ben gasped.  “He just tried to kiss her!” he exclaimed.

“WHAT?!” Adam roared.  He hopped up and down behind his father, trying to see over him.

“No, it’s ok, he missed,” Ben narrated, still staring out the window.

“What do you mean ‘he missed’?” Adam sneered.  “How do you miss?  Let me see!”

He tried to shove Ben away from the window, but the two of them collided painfully with the iron safe below the window, creating the loud clunk that Josie and Simon heard out on the porch.  Both men crashed to the floor.  By the time they untangled their arms and legs and peered out the window once more, Ben massaging a rising lump on the back of his head, and Adam rubbing his nose, Josie and Simon were shaking hands.

“That’s strange,” Ben said.  “I can’t say I ever shook hands with a girl who just refused to kiss me.”

“They’re coming back inside!” Adam cried in alarm.  “Quick!  Look casual!”  He dashed out of the alcove, vaulted over the back of the settee, and grabbed the book he had abandoned on the coffee table the night before.  Ben raced over to the small table that held the decanter of brandy and a half a dozen snifters.  He started pouring the brandy just as Simon and Josie reentered the house.

“Brandy?” he asked them cordially.

******

            Beginning with “Not that it’s any of your business, but…” Josie told the family later that evening about her conversation with Simon. 

            “I thought he looked mighty put out when you two came back inside,” Hoss said. 

            “And I’ll thank the two of you,” Josie stabbed at finger at Hoss and Little Joe, “not to set me up like that again!” 

            Hoss and Joe looked shamefaced.  “We’re sorry,” Joe mumbled.

            “You certainly are,” Josie huffed.  “In any event,” she continued, “that should be the end of that.  Simon and I have an understanding.”

            Ben and Adam caught each other’s eye, and they knew they were thinking the same thing: that Simon Croft had not given up just yet.

******

            Throughout the remainder of April and into May, the family continued to follow the news from the war.  In early April, things continued to go well for the Union in the western theater as General Grant celebrated another victory at the Battle of Shiloh, which opened access for the Union to northern Mississippi.  But in the main theater of the war, progress was painstakingly slow, if it was being made at all.  The Army of the Potomac, including Dr. Jacob Cartwright, had finally left Washington, DC, in March to head toward the Confederate capital of Richmond.  By early April, more than 120,000 Union troops had moved into the Virginia Peninsula between the York and James rivers and were ready to march overland toward Richmond.  As the month of May progressed, the army came within six miles of Richmond, where they engaged the Confederates in the Battle of Seven Pines on May 31 and June 1.  The battle was inconclusive. Both sides suffered about the same number of casualties, and both, therefore, claimed victory.  But the new Union general, George McClellan, lost his confidence and refused to press on to Richmond, and President Lincoln soon replaced him with General John Pope. 

Josie waited anxiously for word from her father.  Finally, in mid-June, she received a telegram from Hannah saying Jacob had written her and he was all right, though very busy tending to soldiers injured in the battle.  Josie shared the telegram first with Ben, who wiped his brow in relief and gathered Josie into a warm embrace.
As the war raged, work continued on the Ponderosa.  In late June, Adam and Little Joe would be leading a cattle drive to Eastgate, about 100 miles east of Virginia City, and they had to round up the cattle.  It was a small drive by Ponderosa standards, only 200 head, but it would test whether Eastgate would be a viable new market for their beef.

In mid-June, on what felt like the hottest day any of them had lived through, Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe rode out to round up the cattle for the drive.  The oldest and youngest Cartwright brothers were grumpy from the moment they stepped out of the house.  The sun was already broiling at seven a.m., and Adam immediately regretted wearing a black shirt.  Little Joe groaned, tipped his hat low over his eyes, and shuffled along behind Adam as they made their way to the barn to get their horses.  Hoss, however, was his usual cheerful self.  His brothers typically welcomed his optimism, but today it made them feel murderous.

“Nothin’ like a hot day to really get your blood flowin, eh fellas?” Hoss said, grinning broadly.  Adam and Little Joe glared at him. 

“You said that about cold days back in February when we had to ride to town through waist-deep snow,” Adam grumbled.

“Works on cold days, too, I reckon,” Hoss chirped, still grinning.

The three brothers mounted up and rode out to the pasture where the cattle were grazing.  Hoss was annoyingly cheerful the entire way.  As they rode through a copse of ponderosa pines, he inhaled deeply.

“I love that smell,” he said blissfully.  “It’s even better on hot days ‘cause the sun bakes out the scent.”

Adam and Little Joe shot each other an irritated glance.  “This is going to be a very long day,” Adam thought.    

He was right.  Every time they encountered a hiccup, Hoss explained why it was actually a good thing.  A broken fence was convenient: now they did not have to ride all the way around to the gate.  Finding some Lucky Star cattle mixed in with theirs gave them an excuse to visit their friends, the Crofts.  When they broke for lunch and discovered their sandwiches were squashed nearly beyond recognition, Hoss quipped how lucky that was because now they would not need to use so much of their precious energy for chewing.

“Would you cut it out?” Little Joe snapped at him.  “Sometimes a miserable day is just a miserable day.”  Adam nodded in agreement.

“Aw, c’mon now, Joe,” Hoss said, his smile never fading.  “Pa always says every cloud has a silver linin’.”

“Well, Pa ain’t here,” Joe retorted.  “Can we please just have black clouds today?”

“You mean like those big ones rollin’ in?” Hoss asked, pointing up at the sky.

Adam followed Hoss’s gaze and groaned.  Ominous black storm clouds were gathering in the distance and heading their way.  The brothers wolfed down the rest of their sandwiches so they could try to finish their work before the storm arrived, but it was to no avail.  By midafternoon, the storm had broken loose, and they had to finish their roundup in the driving rain.  All three were soaked to the bone in seconds, making Adam and Little Joe even grumpier.

“Name one upside to this, Hoss!” Adam shouted at his brother.  “Name ONE!”

“Well,” Hoss said, grinning through the rain streaming down his face, “you ain’t hot no more, are ya?”

Little Joe drew his gun.

“No, Joe, don’t shoot him,” Adam said unenthusiastically.  He would have supported shooting Hoss at the moment if not for one thing.  “If you shoot him, then we only have two people to finish the work of three.”

Little Joe scowled but dropped his gun back in its holster.  The brothers finished their roundup as quickly as they could, secured the cattle in a pen, and hightailed it home through the pouring rain.

By the time they reached the house and handed their horses off to Jimmy, who kindly offered to groom them, all three men were coated in thick, goopy mud from head to toe.  They peeled off their boots, socks, and shirts on the porch and gratefully accepted the towels Josie handed out as they tumbled, exhausted, into the house.

“Oh, I hope this isn’t a bad omen for our drive tomorrow,” Adam said as he rubbed his hair vigorously with his towel.  Josie giggled when he pulled the towel off his head; the sticky mud had made all his hair stand on end. 

            “You look like a porcupine,” she said.

Adam glanced in the mirror and sighed.  “I’m going to take a bath,” he said and tromped upstairs.

Before long, Adam was lounging in cool water up to his chest.  He leaned his head against the back of the tub and sighed contentedly, knowing this was going to be his last bath for at least a week.  He tried to figure out why he was dreading this drive so much.  One hundred miles was not that far for a drive, and 200 cattle were certainly no trouble.  And despite their tendency to butt heads at home, Adam was fond of traveling with Little Joe.  Away from the concerns of running the ranch, he could relax and better enjoy his brother’s antics; Joe’s lust for life was infectious if you let it get to you.  Adam decided he was just uneasy because this would be the longest he had been separated from Josie since she arrived on the Ponderosa nearly a year ago.  He reassured himself that she would have fun spending extra time with Ben and Hoss, who could also comfort her if they received bad news from the war.  Noticing his bathwater had turned brown from all the mud he had scrubbed off, Adam hopped out of the tub, got dressed, and joined his family downstairs for supper.

******

            Adam and Little Joe rose early the following morning, hoping to get a few miles in before the heat of the day fully descended.  After a quick breakfast, they said their farewells to the family, each of them going back to Josie for a second hug.

            “Sorry I’m going to miss the Fourth of July,” Adam told her.

            “It’s all right,” Josie replied truthfully.  “Hoss said he would buy me some ice cream, and Uncle Ben offered to stand in for you on the dance floor.”

            Adam grinned and ruffled her hair, purposefully knocking it loose from its braid.  “Have fun,” he said.  He kissed her forehead, and he and Little Joe set off.

            The heat was every bit as brutal as it had been the day before, and the terrain they crossed as they headed east was rocky and mountainous.  The near-desert offered no shade, and both brothers were sunburned by the end of the first day.  Adam cursed himself again for wearing another black shirt.  Their evenings, at least, were pleasant.  When the sun set, the temperature dropped drastically, bringing much-needed relief to the two sweltering men.  The cooler air injected some life back into them, and Little Joe kept Adam in stitches telling him funny stories of some of his and Hoss’s shenanigans that their father knew nothing about. 

            “Did I ever tell you how I got Josie into trouble with one of her dormitory mothers last year?” Adam asked Joe one night.  Little Joe shook his head, and Adam relayed the story of him kissing Josie’s cheek on the dormitory steps and then running off while the house mother screeched at her.  Joe cackled with delight.

            “Older Brother, I certainly am proud of you,” Little Joe said, slapping Adam on the back.

            When they rolled into Eastgate after a week on the trail, Adam and Little Joe were exhausted and filthy, but pleased.  The terrain had been tough and the heat merciless, but they had successfully driven all 200 cattle to the buyer.  While Adam went to the bank to collect their payment, Little Joe retired to the saloon for a cold beer.  Adam finished up quickly at the bank, stuck their money in his wallet, and sauntered across the street to the saloon, where he found Joe already polishing off his first beer.  He was delighted to see that Joe had ordered one for him, too.

            “Hey, brother, how’d you do?” Little Joe asked as Adam breezed through the saloon doors and sat down next to him at a green, felt-topped table.

            “Oh, pretty good,” he replied.  “Five thousand dollars.”  He smiled.

            “Hey, five thousand!” Joe said.  “Pa was right when he said the people around here were hungry for meat.”

            Adam pulled a fifty-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it to Little Joe.  “Little celebration money,” he said.  After a week on the hot, dusty trail, Adam was nearly overjoyed to be out of the sun and drinking beer with his little brother, and the feeling made him generous.  He ordered a second round for himself and Little Joe.

            Joe thanked him for the money.  “I don’t know what I’m gonna celebrate in this town,” he said, folding the bill and putting it in his pocket.  “Hey, bartender,” he said as the bartender set down his and Adam’s fresh beers, “what do you do for celebration in this town besides getting heat rash and sunstroke?”  He grinned.

            The bartender thought for a second.  “Well,” he said, “we got a big trial starting up tomorrow.  Folks’ll be coming in from miles around.”

            Joe thought this sounded interesting.  They did not get many trials in Virginia City, so he asked what the case was about.

            “Obadiah Johnson,” the bartender said simply.  “He owns the Lucky Seven mine with a man named Jeb Early – the late Jeb Early, that is,” he corrected himself.  “Seems Obadiah up and killed his wife and his partner both.  Claimed the partnership was going too far.”  He raised one eyebrow knowingly at the Cartwrights and returned to the bar.

            “I’d kinda like to see that trial,” Little Joe mused.  “How about you, Adam?”

            “Nah,” Adam said, stretching back in his chair.  “I think I’ll just get away for a few days.”  He had hated leaving Josie over Independence Day, but since there was no possibility of making it home in time anyway, a few days free of responsibilities sounded wonderful.  “No people, no cattle.  Just peace and quiet,” he said, lifting his mug and taking a deep swig of his beer.

            “Yeah?” Joe said.  “What do you have in mind?”  He had never understood Adam’s delight in solitude.  Little Joe needed people around him; he found being alone depressing.

            Adam swirled his beer in his mug.  “Oh,” he said slowly, “I think I’ll cut east over the mountains, do a little hunting, work my way over to Pyramid Lake, get in a little fishing, and head home.”  He took another long draft from his mug.

            Little Joe stared at him incredulously.  “Come on!” he exclaimed.  “You must be out of your mind!  That country you’re gonna go through is ten times tougher than we just brought the cattle through.”

            “What’s the matter?  Can’t take it anymore?” Adam teased.

            “Nope,” Little Joe replied, and they both chuckled.

            “Well,” Adam said, “I’m gonna get some supplies, get a nice, hot bath, and head on out.  You ready?”  He looked over his mug at Little Joe.
            Joe shook his head.  “I’ll go with you as far as the bath is concerned,” he began, “but riding through that terrain isn’t my idea of a rest.  I think I’ll just hang around town for a while and take it easy.”  He drained his glass.  “Tell you what I’ll do,” he said, “I’ll meet you in three days up at Signal Rock.”

            “All right,” Adam agreed.  “Signal Rock in three days.  Now let’s get that hot bath.”

            The two men rose, and Little Joe thanked the bartender for his hospitality.  Noticing that Adam had not finished his second beer, Joe grabbed the mug from the table and took one last quaff before they headed out the door toward the bathhouse down the street.

            They never noticed the thin man who followed them out of the saloon.

            The man ambled over to his friend, a shorter, stockier fellow, who was waiting by the hitching post just outside the saloon doors.

            “The dark-haired fella,” the thin man said, “he’s carrying five thousand dollars.”

            The friend watched the Cartwright brothers as they entered the bathhouse.  “A live one, eh?” he said.
            “But not for long,” the thin man replied with a twisted smile.

******

            Less than an hour later, Adam was dressed in clean jeans and a cream-colored shirt – he had learned his lesson about wearing black in the middle of the summer – and was combing his hair while Little Joe luxuriated in the hip bath behind him.

            “Adam,” Little Joe began, folding his arms lazily behind his head, “I can’t for the life of me figure out why you want to wander around in the wilderness when you can stay here in town for a couple of days and just relax and take it easy.  Besides, we can take in that trial together.”  This was as close as Joe would come to admitting that he wanted Adam there to explain some of the more technical legal proceedings to him.

            “No,” Adam said, trying to brush back the lock of hair that still insisted on flopping over his brow.  “The cattle buyer told me about the case.  The man confessed, so he’ll hang.  I don’t want to watch that.” 

            “How do you know he’s gonna hang?”  Joe scoffed.  Adam was smart, but even he could not predict the future.

            “Simple logic,” Adam replied patiently.  “He’s guilty.  He’ll hang.  It’s the law.”

            Joe managed to look annoyed even as he poured a cup of water over his head.  “Does everything have to be so logical?” he complained.

            “No, not if you don’t want to use your brains,” Adam said, sticking his hat on his head.  At least that would keep his hair out of his eyes.  “Look, Joe,” he explained as he belted on his gun, “a man’s responsible for what he does.  If he loses control of himself, he has to be punished for it, and that’s the way it is.”

            “Yeah,” Little Joe conceded.  “I just wonder if you’d feel that way if you were in Obadiah’s shoes.”

            “Well,” Adam said, “I could never be in Obadiah’s shoes because nobody could ever drive me to murder.  With one exception.”  He stepped behind the bathtub.

            “Oh, yeah?  Who’s that?” Joe asked innocently.

            “You!” Adam said and shoved his little brother underwater. 

            Joe flailed for a moment and then resurfaced, sputtering.  He grabbed a towel and wiped the water out of his eyes.  “Doggone you, Adam!” he squawked.  Adam burst out laughing.  “I’m gonna get you!” Joe threatened.

            “Oh no, you aren’t, ‘cause I’m leaving!” Adam shouted, still laughing, as he darted out the door. 

Joe nearly leapt from the tub, but then, remembering he was stark naked, he instead grabbed his back brush and hurled it toward his brother’s retreating figure.
Adam waited a moment, then poked his head back in the door.  “Signal Rock.  Three days,” he said, pointing a finger at Little Joe.  “And be on time for a change.”  He grinned and darted back out the door.

******

            Adam loaded up on food and water before riding out of town.  He was looking forward to the technical terrain, but he was no fool.  Anyone caught out in the desolate scrub brush in this heat without adequate supplies, especially water, was as good as dead.  As he and Sport rode farther into the wilderness, he was careful to stop frequently to water both himself and his horse.

            He admired the scenery as he rode.  It was not a total desert; there were some scrubby trees and shrubs, and Adam was awed by some of the soaring rock formations.  On his third day as he headed toward Signal Rock to meet Joe, he passed within inches of one large boulder – it must have been twenty feet tall and another eighteen feet across – about fifty miles from Eastgate.  As he came around to its front, a man stepped out from behind a bush and pointed his gun at Adam.  Adam’s hand instinctively flew to his Remington.

            “Now hold it right there, mister!” the man ordered.

            “Just don’t move!” another voice said from Adam’s left.  Adam turned his head and saw the slim man from the saloon in Eastgate was also aiming a gun at him.  He drew his hand slowly away from his own weapon.  “Drop your gun belt,” the slim man demanded. 

            Adam knew he had no choice.  He was outnumbered two-to-one, and if he tried to ride off, the men would shoot him.  He hoped that if he gave these men his gun and his money they would let him go.  He liked his Remington, and he hated to lose so much money, but neither was worth his life.  He pulled the end of the string that held his gun to his leg and unbuckled the belt.

            “Didn’t I see you in Eastgate?” he asked the shorter man as he tossed down his gun.

            “Yeah, you did,” the man answered.  “It’s been a long trail.”  He stuck Adam’s Remington into the waistband of his pants and tossed the gun belt aside.

            “You sure took your time about making your move,” Adam observed as Sport stamped impatiently.

            The thin man grinned snidely at him.  “In our line of work, we like privacy,” he sneered.  “You know what we want.”

            Adam glared at the man for several moments.  “Yeah, I’m intuitive,” he intoned drily.  He reached behind him and dug his wallet out of his saddlebag.  He tossed it down to the shorter man, who ripped it open and grinned as he thumbed through the thick stack of bills inside.

            The thin man nodded in approval and looked back up at Adam.  “Now get down off that horse,” he commanded. 

            Adam was willing to give up his gun and the money, but Sport was another matter.  “You got your money,” he said, staying firmly planted in his saddle.

            “Get down!” the shorter man shouted from behind him.

            Adam looked over his shoulder at the smaller man with his gun still trained on him.  Reluctantly, Adam dismounted.  The shorter man immediately grabbed Sport’s reins and dragged him over to his and the thin man’s horses.  Adam could do nothing but watch in dismay as all of his food and water, still attached to Sport’s saddle, walked away from him.

            The thin man sneered at him again.  “You get to walk outta here,” he said happily.  Keeping his gun pointed at Adam, he stepped over to his own horse and mounted up.

            “I’ll never make it without food and water!”  Adam protested.  “Nobody would!”  Anger burbled up in his chest.  Stealing a man’s horse was bad enough, but marooning that man in the middle of the wilderness in the baking sun with no supplies was inhuman.

            The shorter man chuckled.  “Well, now, I feel real sorry for him,” he said, not sounding sorry in the slightest.  “Don’t you, Frank?” he asked the thin man.

            “Yeah, Jim,” Frank replied.  “I’m all shook up.”  They laughed.

            Adam tried a new tack.  “I don’t want your pity,” he said evenly, “I just want a chance.”

            “We’ve given you a chance,” Frank said.  “We ain’t killin’ ya.”

            “Very funny.”

            “Ain’t it?” Frank replied with a smile.  He and Jim cackled again.  “Ain’t it?” he shouted as the two men spurred their horses and rode away with Sport – and Adam’s supplies – in tow.

            Adam watched helplessly as the men disappeared over the horizon.   He looked around, surveying his surroundings and considering his situation.  He contemplated sitting in the shade of the boulders until nightfall when the cool air would increase his likelihood of reaching civilization without dying of exposure and dehydration, but then he remembered there was a new moon that night.  No moonlight meant he would be stumbling around in the pitch dark and would most likely get hopelessly lost.  Adam heaved a sigh.  His best chance was to set out now, while he could see where he was going.  He hoped that if he continued in the same direction he and Sport had been traveling he would find help; there was no way he could walk the fifty miles back to Eastgate.

            “I should have stayed with Joe,” he muttered as he tied a bandana around his neck and set off through the roasting July sun.

            Progress was slow and difficult.  Had Adam been traversing level ground, he could have covered the mileage even in the heat, but the rocky terrain he had so wanted to see was now his enemy.  Adam was soon exhausted from climbing up one crag only to have to slide down the other side and climb up the next one.  His clothes caught and ripped on even the tiniest bits of protruding rock, covering him in scratches.  After three hours that felt like an eternity, Adam realized he was no longer sweating.

            “That can’t be good,” he thought as he wiped sand from his eyes.

            His head throbbed, his hands, arms, chest, and back stung from scraping across the rocks, and he had to keep shaking his head to bring his vision back into focus.  He finally reached a long stretch of level ground, and he broke into a relieved smile when he spotted a shimmering on the horizon.

            “Water!” he whispered to himself.  “Thank God.” 

            But after staggering several feet forward, he realized the shimmering was drawing no closer.  Adam’s heart sank.  It was only a mirage.  For the first time he thought he might actually die out here, all alone and miles from anything. 

            Yet he stumbled on. 

            After another few hours, Adam knew he was taking his final steps.  His breathing was coming too quickly and shallowly – he felt he could not get enough air into his burning lungs – and despite having had nothing to eat since breakfast, he was nauseated and had to stop often to retch, though he had nothing left in his system to vomit up.  Just as he was ready to collapse and let death win, he reached the edge of a mesa and looked down.  There, in a small valley, was a canvas-covered lean-to with a cooking fire burning next to it and a mule standing patiently nearby.  And inside the lean-to sat a man eating a meal.  Adam had no idea who this man was, nor did he care.  The man was life. 

            The tiny camp was a good thirty feet down, and Adam tried to holler to the man, but his parched throat refused to emit any sound.  Painfully, he realized he would have to climb down.  He lurched a few meters along the edge of the mesa until he found a break in the rock that created a rudimentary path he could slide down.  He amazed himself by managing to stay upright when he hit the bottom, and he staggered slowly toward the man in the lean-to.

            The man watched in awe as Adam approached.  It was thirty miles to the nearest town, and he had not seen another human being for months.  He certainly had not expected to see one staggering through the desert on foot with no food or water.

            “May I help you?” the man asked politely as Adam stepped into the shade of the canvas roof.  He was a tall, slim man, not unlike Adam’s friend Ross, but he was clearly several years older.  His limp hair was gray, and his tanned face was deeply lined from years of outdoor labor.

            It took Adam several attempts to respond.  “Water?” he gasped, clutching a pole of the lean-to for support.

            “Oh, excuse me!” the man said as he rose from his seat, grabbed his canteen, and handed it to Adam.  “I couldn’t believe my eyes at first, seeing a man alone out here on foot in the middle of nowhere.”

            Adam took the canteen and drank greedily.  The water was warm and stale, but Adam thought it was the sweetest he had ever tasted.  The man watched quietly as Adam polished off most of the canteen’s contents and sat down heavily in the shade of the lean-to.

            “My name is Kane,” the man introduced himself.  “Peter Kane.”

            Adam shook Kane’s hand.  “Cartwright,” he said.

            “If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Cartwright, where are you headed?”

            “Back –“ Adam pointed the way he came as he paused to catch his breath again.  “Back home.  The Ponderosa.”  He rested his arms on his knees and dropped his head.

            “The great Ponderosa,” Kane mused.  “I’ve heard of it.  As, indeed, who hasn’t?”  He looked over at Adam, whose chest was still heaving.  “But you’ll need food and rest,” Kane continued.  “Won’t you accept my humble hospitality?”  He gestured around at the simple lean-to and the shaggy mule.

            Adam wiped sand from his eyes.  “There’s nothing humble about hospitality out here, Mr. Kane,” he replied gratefully. 

            Kane nodded.  “Quite true, Mr. Cartwright,” he agreed.

            Adam smiled and raised the precious canteen to his lips once more.

            Once Adam was well along the path to rehydration, Kane handed him a plate of food.  It was just beans with a little salt pork, but to Adam relished every bite.  Over the meal, he told Kane how he had come to be wandering the desert.

            “How much money did the men take?” Kane asked.

            Adam swallowed a mouthful of beans and replied, “Five thousand dollars.  But that’s not what rankles me.” 

            “Five thousand dollars is a considerable sum of money,” Kane sympathized.  “But I’ve been given to understand the Ponderosa is the equivalent of an ancient empire.”  He grinned good-naturedly.

            “Well, an empire, Mr. Kane, represents a lot of plain, hard work.”

            “Oh, I’m sure of that,” Kane replied as he began clearing away his own dishes.  “But I’m a man who’s used to hard work.  Mr. Cartwright, twenty years ago, I came out here from the East to stake my claim.  At that time, I sold all my earthly possessions for the total sum of three thousand dollars.”  He chuckled ruefully as he sat down by a small bucket to wash his plate and cup. 

            “Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Kane,” Adam interjected.  “I’m not making light of the five thousand dollars.”

            “I’m sure of that,” Kane said.  “But you said that something else rankles you.”

            Adam’s expression darkened.  “Yeah,” he said bitterly.  “Being left out here to die.  And I suppose I would have, if I hadn’t stumbled into you.”

            “Well, I’m glad that you did, for your sake, and for mine,” Kane admitted.  “It gets lonely out here with only Epicene to talk to.”

            “Epicene?”

            “My mule.”

            In his desperation for food and water, Adam had forgotten about the mule.  He turned around now and took a quick look at the animal, then raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.  “Mr. Kane, I wonder if I might borrow your mule and enough supplies to get back to civilization.  I’d see that they were returned to you.”  Adam did not much care for riding mules – their jerky, halting gaits were a poor substitute for his Sport – but they were surefooted on the type of terrain Adam had to cross, and in his present situation, he did not have room to be picky. 

            “What’s your hurry?” Kane asked as he finished scrubbing his dinner plate.  “Why don’t you stay around a few days and rest?”

            “I feel pretty good now,” Adam said truthfully as he rose to wash his own plate.  “Besides, I’m overdue for meeting my kid brother at Signal Rock.”  Little Joe would not panic if Adam were a bit late, but Adam knew that eventually the young man would set out to find him, and he did not want to put his brother to the trouble of traversing that arduous terrain.

            “Signal Rock?” Kane asked in surprise.  “That’s better than thirty or forty miles south of here.”

            “Yeah,” Adam agreed.  “Good, long haul on foot.  And I want to catch the men who left me out here.”

            Kane’s brow furrowed.  “What are you going to do when you catch them?” he asked with interest.  “Kill them?”

            “No,” Adam said, as he sat down next to Kane.  “I’ll let the law take care of them.”

            Kane gave him a sidelong glance.  “You’re a remarkable man, Mr. Cartwright, to be content with mere legal revenge,” he observed.  “After all, they left you out here to die.”

            Adam considered this.  “It’s just a civilized process,” he said. 

            “Mr. Cartwright,” Kane said, placing his dishes back in his wagon, “I have found in my life that most men aren’t particularly civilized.”  He paused with his back to Adam and spoke again without turning around.  “In fact, I find that men can be driven to do most anything.”

            An ominous sense of foreboding rang loudly in Adam’s mind, and he glanced over at Kane with suspicion.  “Yeah,” he replied slowly, “but I’m not one of them.”  

            Kane turned around and gave Adam a penetrating stare.  “Are you sure, Mr. Cartwright?”

            Adam stared back, his unease increasing, but he forced himself to remain congenial.  He broke the stare and looked skyward in thought.  “Who was it who said ‘Know thyself’?” he said.

            Kane smirked almost imperceptibly.  “Exactly,” he agreed.  “Here, let me show you something.”  He crossed to the back of the lean-to and picked up a small rock from next to the table.  He handed it to Adam and asked if he knew what it was.

            Adam examined the stone.  “Gold?”

            Kane nodded.  “Yes, the gold I’ve been seeking for the past twenty years.”  He took the rock back. 

            “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Kane,” Adam said. 

            “Yes, indeed,” Kane agreed.  “So now you understand why I can’t let you have my mule because I’ll need her to help me work the claim.”

            Adam could hardly believe what he was hearing.  True, this man had saved his life, but now he was denying him his only avenue for returning home.  He decided he greatly disliked the people in this section of the territory and resolved never to return, no matter how much they were willing to pay for beef.

            “I’d only need the mule for a few days,” he reasoned.

            Kane was unmoved.  “Well, now that I’m so close to the main vein, a few days would seem like an eternity for me.”  He gave Adam a patronizing smile.  The two men stood in silence for several moments as each contemplated his next move.  “Mr. Cartwright,” Kane said at last, “I’ll make you a bargain.”

            “Bargain?”

            “Yes.  If you stay here and help me work the claim for three days, I’ll let you take the mule and the supplies, and you can meet your brother.  The two men can wait, too.  And if everything goes like I hope it will,” he glanced at the entrance to his mine, “I might even join you.  What do you say?”

            Adam wanted to say “Go to Hell,” but he saw no choice but to agree.  He was alone with no horse, no weapon, no food, and no water.  If he ever wanted to get home to his family, he would have to accept Kane’s proposal.

            “You did save my life,” Adam said.  It’s a deal.”  He gave Kane a friendly smile and offered his hand.

            “Good,” Kane said, returning the smile and shaking Adam’s hand.  “It will be a pleasure to talk to a civilized man for a change.  If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you what progress I’ve made toward the vein.”

            Adam followed Kane into the mine and was impressed by the progress the man had been able to make alone.  He said as much, and Kane seemed pleased that Adam was knowledgeable about mining and even had some experience with blasting.

            Kane picked up some tools from the mine floor.  “I assume you also have knowledge of the star drill and hammer,” he said, handing the items to Adam.
            Adam understood he was to get to work immediately.  “Right,” he said, accepting the tools.  He lined up the drill and began hammering away at the rock.

******

            The following afternoon, Little Joe arrived at Signal Rock – a bit early, for once.  He was surprised that his fastidiously punctual older brother was not already waiting for him.  Joe hopped down from Cochise and secured the horse to a tree.

            “Hey, Adam!” Joe called, thinking his brother may have wandered away a piece to look at something that caught his eye.  He got no response.  “Yo, Adam!” he called again and whistled sharply.  “Adam!”  When he still heard no reply, he shook his head in annoyance and walked back over to his horse.  “What do you know?” Joe said to Cochise as he leaned against the pinto.  “Big Brother says be here on time, we get here, and he’s nowhere in sight.  Well, Cochise, we’re just gonna have to make camp and wait a while.  He doesn’t show up soon, we just might not tell him Obadiah got off with only five years.”  He smiled at his own cleverness and untied his bedroll from the back of his saddle.

******

            As Joe arrived at Signal Rock, Adam was still hard at work in Kane’s mine.  He led Epicene out with a full load of rock for what felt like the hundredth time and then dropped, coughing, onto the ground near Kane to get a drink from the canteen.  Even nearly twenty-four hours after his desert sojourn, Adam craved water, and the dust from the mine was not helping.  He glanced over at Kane and saw the older man was making more dynamite.

            “We won’t need any more of that powder until we get that new shoring in,” Adam said, gesturing to the mine.  He had been in a cave-in before, and he did not fancy repeating the experience.

            “We have to hurry, Mr. Cartwright,” Kane said, looking up at him.  “We only have two of our three days left.”  He returned to his work.

            “Yeah,” Adam said, “but if we do any more blasting before putting in more timber, that whole thing’s just gonna collapse.”  He was already annoyed with Kane. 

While Adam had been breaking his back chipping away at the rock in the mine and hauling out the worthless rubble, Kane had been sitting comfortably pouring gunpowder into dynamite sticks.

            “I’d like to hit that vein before you leave,” Kane said simply. 

            “Yeah, so would I,” Adam said.  “And it looks to me like that’s the only way you’re gonna give me any rest.”  He rose stiffly to his feet and grabbed the mule’s lead.  “Once more unto the breach,” he quoted and headed back into the mine.

            Adam spent the rest of the day inside the mine constructing the supports necessary for safe blasting.  He was filthy and exhausted, and his torn shirt was falling to pieces, but at least he was out of the sun. 

            “One more day, Cartwright,” he told himself.  “Just one more day.  Then you can meet Little Joe, find the men who jumped you, and get Sport back.”  The thought did little to cheer him.

******

            When the sun rose the next morning, Little Joe and Cochise were still waiting at Signal Rock.  Joe sat casually against a rock with his legs stretched out as he sipped some coffee.

            “Can you imagine that?” Joe playfully asked his horse.  “’Be on time’ he says, and here he is already a day late.”  He shook his head and took another sip of his coffee.  “Well, Cochise,” he continued, “we can either sit around this rock pile, or we can start out looking for him.  What do you think we oughta do?”  He looked up at the pinto, who gave no response.  “That’s right,” Joe said, “you don’t talk before you’ve had your morning coffee.  Here you go.”  He held the cup up to the horse’s mouth, and Cochise slurped the coffee happily.  “Careful!” Little Joe said as Cochise dripped coffee on his hand.  “It’s hot!  It’s hot!”  He giggled at the animal and then rose to his feet to set off after Adam.

            Little Joe searched for most of the day, finding no sign of his brother.  This was too out of character for Adam, and Little Joe knew he must be in serious trouble.  His playful mood gone, Joe turned Cochise toward the nearest town to get some supplies.

******

            Late that morning, as Kane continued to sit comfortably and inspect the rocks Adam had dragged out of the mine, Adam stumbled from the mine entrance, choking on the dust that coated him from head to toe.  His shirttail had come loose, and his right sleeve was held on by only a few threads.  He leaned against a rock wall to catch his breath.

            Kane stared at a rock through a magnifying glass.  “What are you doing out here?” he asked coolly, not bothering to look over at Adam.

            “Just getting a breath of fresh air before I keel over in that oven,” Adam replied as he uncorked the canteen.  The mine was out of the sun, but there was little air exchange, and the atmosphere was stifling.  He drank deeply.

            “Well hurry up,” Kane drawled.

            Adam was infuriated.  He had been working himself half to death for two days while the mine’s owner lounged around and played with rocks.  Adam’s patience was gone.

            “Mr. Kane,” he began, his chest heaving, “for the past two days, you have worked me from sunup to sundown without a break.  And any time I straighten up for one second, you are breathing down my neck, complaining about not wasting time.”  His voice rose as he struggled to control his anger. 

            Kane still did not look at him.  Instead, he stayed focused on his magnifying glass.  “I thought you were used to hard work, Mr. Cartwright,” he said snidely.  “Isn’t that what you said built the Ponderosa?”

            He was right.  Defeated, Adam threw down the canteen and stalked back into the mine. 

            Adam toiled the rest of day.  Toward the end of the afternoon, he led Epicene from the mine once again and dumped the rocks from the bags slung across the mule’s back.  Kane looked on disapprovingly.

            “Those sacks are only half full,” he complained.

            Adam wiped his brow impatiently.  “I don’t want to work the animal to death,” he explained.  “A dead mule isn’t gonna get your gold, or us, out of here.”

            Kane glared at him.  “Get back to work,” he ordered.

            Adam considered the man for a moment and then turned his grimy face skyward to check the position of the sun.  “No thanks, Mr. Kane,” he said evenly and dropped the empty rock bag to the ground.  “My three days are up as of right now.”  He grabbed Epicene’s lead and started to drag the animal away.  He was not going to spend one more minute in the company of Peter Kane. 

            Kane’s reaction was as quick as lightning.  He snagged the mule’s bridle and spun Adam around to face him at the same time.  “Cartwright!” he seethed.  “I give the orders around here!  Now get back to work!”

            Adam straightened up.  “We made a bargain, Mr. Kane, and we’re gonna keep it,” he challenged.

            “The only bargain you’re going to keep is to work that mine ‘til I strike it!”

            “That mine isn’t gonna be good for anything but a grave!” Adam shot back, thrusting one angry finger in the direction of the mine.  “We don’t have enough food and water to stay and get out alive.  We have to leave right now!”  He tugged viciously at the mule’s lead again and headed to the wagon to gather supplies.

            As Adam filled a canteen from the water barrel in the lean-to, Kane pulled a rifle from behind his workbench, turned, and fired toward him.  Adam jumped at the blast and looked around wildly.  His eyes landed on the mule, now lying dead next to the shelter.  Adam stared in horror and dropped the canteen.  His first thought was, “This man is insane.”  His second was, “I am in big, big trouble.”

            “Do you know what you’ve done?” Adam asked as Kane approached him, still carrying the rifle.  “How do we get out of here now?”  There was no way they could carry sufficient supplies without the mule.

            “We don’t,” Kane replied coldly, “until I hit that vein.”  His use of the pronoun “I” only made Adam angrier.  Kane had not done a bit of work in the mine since Adam arrived.

            “Without the mule?” Adam demanded.

            “There’s you, Mr. Cartwright.”

            “Me?” 

            “Yes, you.”

            Adam caught on.

            “And if I refuse to be your pack animal?” he asked, putting his hands defiantly on his hips.

            “You won’t refuse,” Kane said confidently.  “No work, no water.”

            Adam stared at him with disgust as he realized his savior was no better than the men who had placed him in this position in the first place.  He had tried to give Peter Kane the benefit of the doubt.  Being alone out here and working a worthless mine would make anyone squirrelly.  But this went beyond eccentricity caused by loneliness.  This was evil incarnate.

            “I’m giving you a chance to live,” Kane continued, as if Adam should be grateful.  “And after all, every animal’s first instinct is to survive.”

            Adam knew he was trapped. 

“Please come find me, Joe,” he thought desperately.

******

            Day after day, Adam toiled from dawn to dusk, drilling through the rock, filling the bags until they were so heavy Adam had to hunch over to drag them out of the mine, only to dump them and turn around to do it all again.  His shirt hung in tatters from his shoulders, leaving his arms and chest with no protection from the sharp rocks.  What little fabric remained was spotted with Adam’s blood from the countless scrapes that now covered his body.  Every muscle in his body screamed for rest.  While Adam toiled, Kane sat in the shade of the lean-to, his rifle never more than a foot away.

            On the sixth – or was it the seventh? – day, as Adam dragged a load of rocks from the mine, Kane looked up at him.

            “We can stop this foolish cat-and-mouse game if you give me your word you won’t try to escape,” Kane drawled.  “Then maybe both of us can relax.”  He pointed lazily to a pot simmering over the small cooking fire.  “There’s a day’s rations,” he told Adam.  “You can take half and serve me the rest.”

            Adam glared at Kane, his blood boiling.  He wanted to take the entire pot and fling it into the skinny man’s face, but he badly needed the energy the food would provide, especially if he hoped to figure out a way out of his predicament.  He grabbed two plates, crouched next to the pot, and spooned half of the beans onto each plate.  He approached the table with the nicer of the two plates and reached out to hand it to Kane.

            “Not too close,” the man said hatefully. 

            Adam stopped and leaned over farther to set the plate and a cup of coffee on the table in front of his captor.  He turned back and picked up his own plate and started to sit down in the shade of the shelter to eat, when Kane stopped him again and ordered him to sit in the blazing sun.

            Heaving a sigh, Adam rose and leaned over to take a fork from the table.  He paused when he heard the click of a revolver cocking, and he looked up into the barrel of Kane’s Colt six-shooter.  Adam briefly considered letting Kane shoot him, when an image of his family flashed through his mind.  He backed away from the table and sat down in the burning sun next to the cooking fire.  He wiped his hand as clean as he could get it on the shreds of his shirt and dug hungrily into his beans.

            Kane smiled cruelly as he watched Adam eat.  “So you’ve come down another notch as a civilized man,” he sneered.  “Eating with your fingers, like an animal.”
            That was it.  Adam threw down his plate and launched to his feet.  “Who’s an animal?!” he roared, not caring that Kane was pointing the Colt directly at his chest again.

            Kane had risen to his feet, too, and thrust the gun closer to Adam.  “Don’t you test me!” he snarled. 

            “I still have that right,” Adam growled back.

            “Judge not, lest ye be judged!” Kane quoted.  Adam found this ironic, but he merely glared at Kane, his hatred no longer masked.  “Get back to work,” Kane seethed.  “Time’s running out.”  When Adam held his ground, Kane leaped around the small table, grabbed one of the rock sacks, and flung it at Adam.  “Go on!” he screamed.  He advanced on Adam, forcing him backward step by step into the mine.

******

            Little Joe stopped at a small village about thirty miles from Signal Rock.  He had been searching for Adam for four days to no avail, and now Cochise had split a hoof on the rocky terrain.  The local blacksmith offered to let Joe stay with him until Cochise’s hoof healed enough for Joe to ride him.  Little Joe thanked him but said he had to keep going.

            “You got a horse I can use?” Joe asked.

            “Yeah,” the blacksmith said, “but, son, I’d advise you to stay here tonight.  The next town is Salt Flats.  Mighty long haul from here.”

            “I’m not going to Salt Flats,” Joe replied.  “I’m heading south.”

            “Aw, mister!” the blacksmith declared.  “There ain’t nothin’ out there but sand and mountains and dry bones.”

            Joe flinched at the mention of dry bones.  “What about that horse you said I could use?” he asked, changing the subject
.
            The blacksmith stepped into his barn to fetch the horse.  When he reemerged, Little Joe’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.  The blacksmith was leading a very familiar chestnut gelding with four white socks and a white stripe down his nose.

            “Where’d you get this horse?” Joe demanded.

            “Why?  Is something wrong with him?”

            “That’s my brother’s horse,” Joe said, eyeing the man suspiciously. 

            “Well, now look, mister, I don’t know anything about your brother–“ the blacksmith began.  Joe grabbed the man’s shirt collar with his right hand and drew his gun with his left.  He jabbed the muzzle of the gun into the man’s jaw.

            “I asked you where you got the horse!” he growled, his green eyes flashing with anger.  This man knew something about Adam, and Little Joe was going to find out what.

            The blacksmith eyed the gun nervously.  This young man certainly was jumpy.  “I, uh, I bought him from a couple fellers,” he said anxiously. 

            “You got a bill of sale?” Joe queried, not lowering his weapon.

            “Yeah.”

            “Where is it?”

            The blacksmith gestured to his shop, and Joe shoved him that direction, keeping his gun trained on the man’s back as they walked.  The blacksmith flipped open a small tin box and pulled out the bill of sale, which Little Joe ripped from his hands.  He unfolded it and skimmed the names listed.

            “All right, who’s this Jim Gann?” Joe asked.

            “No idea,” the blacksmith replied.  “All I know is he wanted to sell a horse.”

            “What about the other fellow?  You know his name?”

            “If I recollect, Gann called him, uh, Frank.”

            Now Joe was getting somewhere.  “Do you have any idea at all where they were headed?” he asked, softening the tone of his voice a little. 
            “As a matter of fact, I do,” the blacksmith said, looking pleased that he could offer some useful information.  “They mentioned that they was going on to Salt Flats.”
            “Thanks,” Joe said sincerely and handed the man back the bill of sale.  “Looks like I’m going to Salt Flats after all.” 

            Little Joe quickly untacked Cochise and bid him farewell, promising the horse he would return for him soon.  He knew Cochise could not understand a word, but it made Joe feel better.  He put his saddle and bridle onto Sport and patted the chestnut’s neck fondly, his stomach in knots.  Adam must be in serious trouble if he allowed himself to be parted from his beloved mount.  Joe tried not to imagine the worst.

            “What happened to him, huh?” Joe whispered to the gelding.  Sport tossed his head in reply.  Joe mounted up, waved to the blacksmith, and tore out of the village on his brother’s horse.

******

            Back at the mine, Adam’s situation continued to deteriorate.  It was only sheer willpower that kept him swinging the hammer hour after hour, and in the clanging it made against the star drill, Adam was certain he could hear Kane laughing at him.  As his fury mounted, Adam swung the hammer harder and harder and harder, until at last he missed the drill completely and got the hammer wedged in the rock face.  Enraged, he staggered out of the mine to confront Kane but tripped on a loose stone at the entrance and fell hard, ripping open several blisters on his palms as he tried to break his fall.  He dragged himself to his feet and found himself once more face-to-face with the barrel of Kane’s revolver.

            “Cartwright,” Kane said, sounding almost bored, “for shirking your duties, I’m cutting your food and water ration in half as of today.”

            Adam stared.  The food and water ration he currently received was barely enough to keep a man alive and functioning.  How did Kane expect him to continue slaving with half that amount?  Kane smiled at him with grotesque satisfaction.  Adam was too exhausted to do anything but close his eyes, nod weakly, and wonder if he would ever see his family again.        

******

            Little Joe and Sport galloped into Salt Flats early the next morning, and Joe went straight into the sheriff’s office. 

            “My name’s Joe Cartwright,” he said urgently to the sheriff.  “I’m looking for two men: Jim Gann and a Frank something-or-other.”

            “Frank Preston?” the lawman asked, his face screwed up in disgust.

            “Maybe,” Joe said.  “They in town?”

            “What do you want them for?” the sheriff asked with a befuddled expression. 

            Little Joe had to take a deep breath before he could force out his next statement.  “I think they may have killed my brother,” he said.  It was the first time he had spoken the possibility of Adam’s death aloud, and the words were like poison in his mouth.

            The sheriff’s heart went out to the dirty, sweaty young man before him.  He had clearly ridden long and hard in search of his brother, and despite the boy’s outward toughness, the sheriff could tell he was inwardly crumbling.  “Well,” he said sympathetically, “I think you’re a little bit late.”

            “What d’ya mean?” Joe demanded.

            “They tried to shoot up the town last night, and as a result, I’ve got them stretched out in the back room there, both cold dead.”

            Little Joe called on every ounce of strength he had not to dissolve into tears in front of the sheriff.  He had come so close, and now he would never know what happened to his older brother.  He knew what he had to do next.

            “Where’s your telegraph office?” Joe asked, his voice wavering. 

            “Just a couple doors west.”

            Joe thanked him and turned to leave.

            “Mr. Cartwright?” the sheriff said.  Joe turned back around.  “Anything I can help you with?”  The lawman felt terrible that he had to send the boy away, so obviously heartbroken.

            “No,” Joe said sadly.  “No, I’m gonna wire my family.”  He paused.  “And try to find my brother.”  He nodded to the sheriff and walked out.

******

            Josie, Hoss, and Ben had enjoyed their Independence Day together in Virginia City.  Hoss had made good on his promise to buy Josie some ice cream, and Ben had waltzed with her in Adam’s place.  She had even danced with Simon again – just as friends – and Ben had successfully avoided the Widow Hawkins for the second year in a row.

            But now it was back to work, and Josie was about to lock up the clinic in town so she could meet Sally for lunch at the International House when Morris, the telegraph operator, came dashing down the street toward her.  He was a waving a telegram and shouting Josie’s name.  A powerful sense of dread washed over her.

            “Morris?” she asked in concern.  “What is it?”

            Morris leapt onto the clinic’s porch and bent over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.  The telegraph office was several blocks away, and he had sprinted the entire distance.  Finally, still panting too hard to speak, he thrust the telegram at Josie.

            Reading Little Joe’s telegram, Josie felt as if someone had thrust a vice through her belly, locked onto her intestines, and twisted violently.  She swayed, and Morris caught her arm.  For a moment she thought she would be sick, but she took a deep breath and steadied herself.  She could not afford to fall to pieces.

            “Dr. Cartwright?” Morris asked, his face brimming with concern.  “Is there anything I can do?”  In the nearly two years since he had arrived in Virginia City, Morris had come to know and respect all of the Cartwrights, but especially Josie.  His interest was not romantic; he simply recognized the soft kindness behind her mischievous smile and knew that she was a person of worth.

            Josie swallowed hard.  “Yes, Morris,” she said.  “Please go to Dr. Martin’s house and explain what’s happened.  Let him know I’m going home to alert my family, and I may be gone for quite some time.”  She drew another deep breath and forced herself to think clearly.  “Then please tell Sally Cass that I won’t be able to meet her for lunch.  You’ll find her at the International House.”

            “You got it!” Morris exclaimed.  Before he turned to leave, he added, “Dr. Cartwright?  I’ll say an extra prayer for Adam.”

            Josie’s eyes filled with tears that she blinked back.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  Morris took off, and Josie called for Pip.  She locked up the clinic and ran down the street to the livery stable to fetch Scout, her hound right on her heels.

            Scout ran full speed all the way home with Josie praying that Hoss and Ben would be at the house.  As she tore into the front yard, she saw Buck and Chubb at the hitching post.

            “Oh, thank God,” she said.  She threw herself to the ground and flew into the house, screaming for her uncle.

            Ben and Hoss were sitting at Ben’s desk reviewing some financial ledgers when they heard the thundering hoofbeats approaching the house.  They were about to peer out the window when Josie’s frantic cries of “UNCLE BEN! UNCLE BEN!” pierced the afternoon calm.  The two men shot from their seats and raced for the door, nearly colliding with Josie as she raced into the house.

            “Josephine!” Ben cried in alarm.  He saw the blue slip of paper in his niece’s hand and knew she had come to tell him that his younger brother was dead.  He was not prepared for the telegram’s actual message:

            “Adam missing STOP Come to Salt Flats immediately STOP Joe STOP”

            “Oh, dear God,” Ben said, handing the telegram to Hoss and clutching the sideboard for support.  Hoss read the telegram and immediately stiffened.

            “It’s all right, Pa,” he said firmly, placing a hand on his father’s shoulder.  “We’re gonna find him.”  He reached out and pulled Josie into his arms.  “You, too, Little Sister,” he said.  “We’ll find him.”

            Josie nodded against Hoss’s chest and forced herself not to cry.  She had to remain calm if she were going to help Adam.

            “You’re right, Hoss,” Ben said, collecting himself.  “We’ll find him.  Gather up some supplies.  We’ll need plenty of food and water for that country.  We leave in an hour.”  He turned to Josie, who was still clinging to Hoss.  “Don’t you worry,” he said, patting his niece’s shoulder.  “Hoss and Joe and I will bring Adam home.” 

            Josie peeled herself off of Hoss and turned to her uncle.  “Me, too,” she said.

            “I don’t understand what you mean,” Ben replied.

            Josie’s hazel eyes flashed.  “I’m coming with you,” she declared.

            Ben glanced uncertainly at Hoss.  “Oh, Josie,” he said, “that’s not a good idea.  We’re going to be riding through some rough country, and–“

            “I’m coming with you,” Josie interrupted, glaring directly into her uncle’s eyes.  When Ben said nothing – he was unsure what to say – Josie continued.  “If Adam is missing, that means he’s either hurt or in trouble.  If he’s hurt, he’ll need a doctor, and if he’s in trouble, you’ll need my gun.  I’m coming with you.”

            Ben kept staring at his niece.  He saw in her eyes a steeliness he often saw in Adam’s when the younger man would not be swayed from his position.  The resemblance stabbed him like a knife, and he glanced up again at Hoss.

            “She’s right, Pa,” Hoss said.  “And she’s got just as much right to look for Adam as we do.”

            Ben sighed.  “All right,” he conceded.  “Get your things together.”

            Josie dashed to her room and changed into a pair of jeans.  She dug through her medical bag to make sure she had everything she might need: chloroform, iodine, quinine, catgut, needles, syringes, morphine, opium pills, laudanum, and surgical tools.  She tried not to imagine having to use any of them on Adam but knew she must be prepared.  She rolled up a change of clothes into a blanket to tie to her saddle, and headed down the hall.  As she passed Adam’s door, she had a sudden idea and ducked into his room.  She raided his wardrobe and chest of drawers for clean clothes for him.  The familiar, musky scent of his aftershave hung in the air, and Josie’s throat tightened.  She got out of there as quickly as she could, stopped in Little Joe’s room for clean clothes for him, too, and hurried back downstairs.

            Ben saw the clothes Josie had brought down for Adam and Little Joe and complimented her on her good thinking.  He knew then that bringing Josie along was the right decision.  “Clearheaded in a crisis, just like Adam,” he thought sadly.

            Within thirty minutes, the three Cartwrights had secured their bedrolls and rifle scabbards to their saddles, loaded their saddlebags with food, and hung two canteens apiece from their saddle horns.  Hop Sing came out to the front yard to bid them farewell.

            “Tell Baxter he’s in charge while we’re away,” Ben instructed the cook.  Hop Sing nodded his acknowledgement.

            “You bling Mr. Adam home,” he said, his eyes brimming with tears.

            “We will,” Hoss said confidently.

            “C’mon Pip!” Josie said.  “Let’s find Adam!”  She, Ben, and Hoss spurred their horses and took off with Pip coursing smoothly behind them.

            They reached Salt Flats the following evening and found Little Joe in the lobby of town’s dingy hotel.  At the sight of his father, Little Joe dissolved into tears.  Ben gathered his son in his arms and held him close.

            “It’s all right, Joe,” Ben said.  “Just tell me what happened.”

            Little Joe related the story of his and Adam’s arrival in Eastgate, their plans to meet up at Signal Rock, how he had come across Sport, and his conversation with Salt Flats’ sheriff.

            “Oh, Pa!” Joe cried.  “It’s all my fault!  I never should have let Adam go off alone.  I’m so sorry I lost him!”  He broke into sobs again.

            “It’s not your fault, Joseph,” Ben said, stepping back and forcing his son to make eye contact.  “Adam wanted to go off on his own, and there was nothing you could have done to stop him.”

            “I should have gone with him,” Joe said miserably.

            “Then we’d be lookin’ for both of you,” Hoss chimed in.

            “Your brother’s right,” Ben said.  “If those men were able to surprise Adam, they could just as easily have jumped you both, and then Hoss and Josie and I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.  No, Joseph, Adam has a better chance at survival because you stayed behind.”

            Little Joe nodded feebly and gazed balefully over at Josie.  “Josie, I’m so sorry,” he croaked.  “Please don’t hate me.”

            Josie’s eyes filled.  Joe looked so pitiful.  He was covered in sweat and dirt, now cut through with rivulets from his tears.  How could he think she would be angry with him?  She stepped over to Little Joe and pulled him into a tight embrace.

            “I could never hate you,” she whispered in his ear.  “You did everything you could.  We’ll find him.”

            Joe hugged her back.  “Ok,” he said.

            “Come on,” Hoss said, laying a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, “tell us where you’ve been lookin’.”

******

            That night, Adam lay curled on the ground in the fetal position under a scratchy wool blanket and tried to sleep.  The nights were as cold as the days were hot, and he shivered in the frigid air.  He knew he could not go on much longer on the meager rations Kane provided, so if he was going to make his move, he had better do it.  He knew he would probably die in the attempt to walk the thirty miles through the desert to the nearest town, but better to die a free man than the prisoner of a lunatic.  The moon was now full, and he could see Kane’s tall figure stretched out under a blanket in the lean-to.

            Settling his hat on his head, Adam rose quietly and crept toward the lean-to, where he swiped Kane’s rifle.  Kane’s blanket was pulled up over his head, and Adam pointed the rifle at him and contemplated pulling the trigger.  He had killed in self-defense before, and while he did not relish the experience, he could do it again if he had to.  But shooting a sleeping man was hardly self-defense.  He lowered the weapon, carefully removed a canteen from its peg on one of the shelter’s support poles, and tiptoed away from the camp.

            Just when he thought he would get away, Adam heard a revolver cock behind him, and he froze. 

            “Why don’t you use the rifle, Cartwright?”

            Adam turned around slowly to face Peter Kane, who was once again pointing that damn Colt at him. 

            “Not ready to kill yet,” Kane observed. 

            “I don’t want to kill you, Kane,” Adam said.  “I just want to get away from you!”

            “You can’t escape me, Cartwright.  Or yourself.”  Kane opened his clenched left fist to reveal a handful of bullets, which Adam recognized as belonging to the rifle in his hand. 

            Adam half-smiled at Kane’s cleverness – he could admit when he had been had – though he was furious at himself for not checking that the rifle was loaded. 

            “Drop it right there,” Kane said softly. 

            Adam dropped the rifle on the ground.  Kane tucked the bullets into his shirt pocket and, keeping his revolver aimed at Adam, stepped over and picked it up.  Adam trudged reluctantly back into camp, the canteen swinging from his left hand.  He threw down his hat and went to lie back down in the small hollow he had made for himself in the dirt.

            “Not there!  On the stool!” Kane ordered, gesturing to the small stool next to one of the lean-to’s poles.  Adam ambled over to the stool, sat, and looked up at Kane like a belligerent child waiting for his father to lecture him.  He hugged the canteen to his chest, hoping Kane would forget he had it.  Kane reached down to his own bedroll and threw back the blanket, revealing the pile of logs and rocks he had used to make it look like he was in there.

            “Clever,” Adam said drily and turned his face away from Kane.

            Kane pulled a few short lengths of rope from where they hung on the shelter’s cross-pole and showed them to Adam.  “I used these ropes to hobble my mule,” he said, running them through his fingers.  “They’ll do fine for you.  Unfortunately, I’ll have to tie you up every night now.  You’ve proven yourself unworthy of trust.  Therefore, you must be treated like an animal.”  He flung the ropes at Adam.  “Tie your feet securely,” he ordered.  “I’ll check it.”

            Adam placed the canteen next to his stool and began binding his own ankles.  “Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?” he asked. 

            Kane seemed surprised by this question.  “I’m not gonna kill you, Cartwright,” he said.  “I have other plans.” 

            Adam finished tying his ankles and leaned back against the pole in resignation.

            “Put your hands around that post,” Kane said, waving the gun.

            “Who’s the animal now, huh?” Adam retorted, though he did as he was told.  His jaw clenched in anger.

            Kane smiled wickedly and began lashing Adam’s wrists to the post.  “You’re pretty good at judging others, aren’t you, Cartwright?  Well, I claim that same privilege for myself.  In spite of your advantages of being a Cartwright, I’m as good a man as you.  In fact, I’m gonna prove that I’m a better man.”  He emphasized this last statement by yanking hard on the ropes, cutting them painfully into Adam’s flesh.  Adam clenched his jaw again and refused to flinch.  Kane then picked up the canteen still at Adam’s feet, removed the lid, and poured the contents out onto Adam’s boots.  The canteen was full of sand.  Adam looked away, ashamed and furious that he had been bamboozled twice.

            “We ran out of the last of the water and food today,” Kane informed him.  “Now the real test begins.”  He flung the canteen to the ground and sat at the table, where he stared at Adam for the rest of the night.

            The next day, Kane kept his rifle trained on Adam as he dragged himself in and out of the mine.  By midmorning, Adam could no longer stand.  He hauled one last load of rocks from the worthless cave and collapsed, his face falling into the dirt.  His hunger pangs had faded, but his throat still burned as his body cried out for water.

            “Are you still so sure of yourself, Mr. Cartwright?” Kane asked.  Adam raised his dirty face and glowered at his jailer.  “Don’t you want to kill me yet?”

            Adam lay panting in the dirt for several long moments before forcing himself back onto his feet.  He had taken two staggering steps toward Kane when a shot rang out.  Adam looked down at his chest thinking Kane had finally decided to finish him off, but there was no blood spreading across the remnants of his shirt.  A second shot rang out from somewhere on the mesa, and Kane and Adam both looked up.  When he heard a third shot, Adam knew his family was near.  Three shots in a row had been their signal to each other for years.  He lurched toward the rock face and began to climb.  Kane tore after him and grabbed his ankle.  Adam did not have enough strength left to hold onto the rock, and Kane threw him to the ground, where he lay still.

            A voice echoed across the desert.  “ADAM!”

            Adam rolled onto his back.  He would know his father’s voice anywhere.

            “ADAM!” Ben’s voice called again.

            “Pa!” Adam thought desperately as he tried to rise.  But he could get his head no more than a few inches off the ground before falling back.  He was so tired; if he could just rest…

            “ADAM!” a higher voice shrieked.

            “Josie!” Adam screamed inside his head.  His family was mere meters away, and he did not have the strength to reach them.  He tried to call out to them, but his throat was too choked with dust.  He lay in the dirt and bit back tears of rage; he felt so impotent.  He heard his father call out to him again, but his voice was farther away now.  They were moving on.

******

            That afternoon, Ben, Hoss, Josie, and Little Joe tried retracing Joe’s tracks from his previous search in hopes they would find some sign that Joe had missed.  As they approached the large boulder where, unbeknownst to them, Adam had been held up, Pip’s nose hit the dirt, and he began sniffing furiously.  He stopped next to some scrub brush and barked sharply.  Ben slid down from Buck and walked over to the dog, where he discovered a black gun belt nearly hidden by the bush.  He knew even before he examined it that it was Adam’s.  He took it back over to Hoss, Josie, and Little Joe and stared down at it grimly.

            “Adam’s,” Hoss observed, glancing at the gun belt.

            “Yeah,” Ben said, his voice shot through with exhaustion.  “Tracks show three horses, one man on foot.  Tracks peter out there by the rocks.”  He gestured in the direction Adam had traveled.  “We’ll have to spread out, cover every direction.”

            Little Joe and Hoss shared a glance.  They were all drained, and Ben looked ready to drop.  The younger Cartwrights had not been sleeping well the past several nights, but Ben had not been sleeping at all.  Josie was amazed her uncle had not begun hallucinating.

            “Pa,” Hoss said gently.  “You need to get some rest.  You ain’t had no sleep in three days.”

            “Not ‘til we find him,” Ben declared.  Hoss looked at Josie in hopes she would support his efforts to force Ben to rest, but Josie shook her head.  She, too, would drive herself into the ground to find Adam.  “Not ‘til we find him,” Ben repeated.  He gestured behind him.  “Hoss,” he instructed, “you go around by these rocks.  Joe, go in that direction.”  He pointed off to his left.  “Josie and I are following this trail,” he finished, indicating Adam’s tracks.  He swung wearily back onto Buck, and the four of them rode on.

******

            Adam lit another charge in the mine and dashed out to the entrance, hoping the sound of the blast might alert his family and bring them back.  As the smoke cleared, he turned toward his captor.

            “Well that’s it, Kane,” he said.  “Now let’s see what you’ve got in that stinkin’ pit!” he shouted.  Kane stared at him in hatred as Adam wobbled back into the mine.  He was dizzy from hunger and his head pounded from dehydration.  Kane was growing fatigued, too, and sat down heavily at his table, his revolver in his hand.  He stared at it for a moment, then unloaded the rounds and put them into the rifle.  He tossed the now-useless Colt aside as Adam emerged from the mine with a rock in each hand.  Seeing the malice in Adam’s eyes, Kane cocked the rifle.

            Adam held the rocks up for Kane to see.  “All there is, Kane,” Adam growled.  “Just rocks!  There’s no vein in there.”

            “I know, Cartwright,” Kane said coolly.  “I’ve known for some time.”

            Adam stared in disbelief.  This man had enslaved and starved him for nearly two weeks.  And for what?  A pile of worthless rocks.  Adam dropped the stones.  “Then why?” he asked.  “Why all this?”

            “When I realized that this wouldn’t be my strike, either,” Kane began, “just another failure like all the rest, I knew that my time was up.”  He shook his head in defeat.  “I’d run out of everything.  I never had the breaks like you, Cartwright.”

            Adam suddenly understood.  It all came down to jealousy, plain and simple.  Kane was jealous of the Cartwrights’ good fortune and was taking his anger out on Adam.   “You wouldn’t know what to do with them if you had them,” he retorted.  

            “You still think you’re a better man than I am, don’t you?”  Kane said. 

            “That’s right,” Adam replied, never once breaking eye contact.  He had considered giving up so many times over the past two weeks, but now he knew he could not let this madman win.  Whatever it took, Adam was going to prove he was still a civilized man and, more importantly, he was going to get home to his family.

            But Kane was determined, too.  “I’m going to prove it’s the other way around,” he said.  “I claim that you can be driven to kill like anyone else.  I’m going to give you a fair chance to kill or be killed.”  He rose slowly from the table, still aiming the rifle at Adam, and stepped over to the wagon, where he picked up a shovel.  He took the shovel and the rifle to a small outcropping of rocks.  Adam watched with apprehension as Kane dug down a few inches and pulled up a small sack of food and a canteen full of water that he had hidden there a few days before.  He laid both items on the rock.

            Adam’s eyes grew wide, and he staggered forward, reaching desperately for the food and water.  He collapsed against the rock, gasping for air, and grabbed at the canteen.  “There was food and water all this time, huh?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice from fading.

            “All part of the plan,” Kane said.  “There’s just enough there to get one of us out of here alive.”

            Adam looked up and prayed he had the strength left for what he knew was coming.

            “This gun,” Kane continued, firing the rifle into the air, “is loaded.  I’m gonna put it between you and me, and we’ll both go for it at the count of five.”
            Adam’s head lolled against the rock.  He could barely stand, and now he was expected to fight for his life.  He shook his head.  He could not do it.  He was too weak.  Kane was going to win.  Kane set the rifle on the ground and stepped back.

            “One,” he said.

            Adam stayed draped over the rock face, wishing Kane would just shoot him and get it over with when images flashed before his eyes.  A husky blond boy knocking him down at a train station in Cambridge.  A skinny, curly-headed boy leaping into his arms in Carson City.  A raven-haired little girl resting her head on his shoulder as she munched on a peppermint stick.  And a gray-haired man with dark brown eyes and strong arms embracing him after three years apart.  All at once, Adam had the strength he needed.  And he was not waiting for a count of five.

            As soon as Kane said “two,” Adam launched himself at the man.

            “NO MORE GAMES!” he howled as he threw himself onto Kane.  The man fought back, but Adam was burning with rage and wrestled him to the ground.  He pinned him and wrapped his long fingers around his captor’s throat.  “No more games!” he repeated, now half-mad himself.  Kane’s eyes bulged.  “No more games,” Adam snarled again.  “No guns! No games!”

            “Kill me!” Kane demanded as Adam tightened his grip on his throat.  “Kill me!” he gasped again.  “Either way, I win!”  He thrashed one last time and lay still.

            Adam jumped back in horror and stared at the man.  He was relieved when Kane began gasping for air.  The man was only half conscious, but he was alive; Adam had not killed him.  Adam dragged himself away from Kane and through the dirt to the rifle that had kept him prisoner for so long.  He grabbed the weapon and smashed it against a rock over and over again until it lay in pieces on the ground.  At least he could kill that.  Forcing himself to his feet, he snatched the food bag and canteen and stumbled out of the camp. 

            As Adam staggered away, Kane came to and shouted “Cartwright!” in a hoarse croak.  “Cartwright!” he repeated.  Adam fell, and as he lay on the ground catching his breath, he heard Kane shout, “Cartwright!  You’re leaving me here to die just like those two animals left you!”

            “Shit,” Adam thought.  He watched Kane haul himself to his feet and take two shaky steps toward him.  The man was a lunatic, but right now he was a lunatic with a valid point.  If Adam left him, he would be abandoning a man in the desert with no food, water, or transportation: the exact offense that had so angered him two weeks ago.  Right then, Kane lost his footing and fell, dashing his head against a rock. 

            “I win!” he cried and then blacked out.

            Reluctantly, Adam rose to his feet and tripped his way back toward Kane.  Kane’s head was bleeding where it had hit the rock, but he was still breathing.  Adam knew if they stayed in the camp they would both die, so he used the poles and canvas tarp from the shelter to construct a travois.  He dragged Kane onto the travois and allowed himself two sips of the precious water before picking up the poles and setting off into the desert, dragging his enemy behind him.

            Adam trudged through the hot sun for hours, hoping he was headed toward a town and praying that his family was still out there looking for him.  He rationed his water carefully, occasionally pouring a little into Kane’s mouth as well, but by midafternoon, the canteen was empty and the now-familiar symptoms of advanced dehydration returned.  His head ached and his stomach churned, yet he dragged himself along.  If he could just hold on long enough, his family would find him.  He distracted himself from his pain by picturing each of their faces and trying to remember the sounds of their voices, especially their laughter.  But by late afternoon, he could no longer concentrate on anything.  His mind went blank, and it was all he could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

******

            Ben, Hoss, Little Joe, Josie, and Pip had regrouped after finding no traces of Adam on their separate paths.  It had been two days since they had found Adam’s gun belt, and the trail had gone cold.  Even Josie was ready to admit that they had to stop and rest, but every time she was about to open her mouth to say so, a little voice in her head would whisper that Adam might be just over the next rise, so they had to keep going.

            A cadence “I can’t lose him, I can’t lose him, I can’t lose him,” swirled around and around in her head until she thought she might scream. 

            In the late afternoon, they reached the top of another hill, and Ben slumped forward in his saddle, his energy finally spent.  The cousins stared at one another, each of them unwilling to say what had to be said.  Little Joe and Josie looked over to Hoss, who understood that he was to take Adam’s place as their spokesman.  The thought pained him; he did not like the idea of being the oldest brother.  Finally, he spoke.

            “Pa,” he said gently, “you can’t go on.  You can’t do it.”

            “We’re gonna have to face it, Pa,” Joe said grimly.  “We’re not gonna find Adam.”

            “No,” Josie whimpered.  Surprisingly, she did not cry, but bile rose in her throat, and she forced herself not to vomit.  “He’s out there,” she insisted.  “I know he is.  The world would feel different if he wasn’t still in it.”

            “Pa, it’s been two weeks since he left Eastgate,” Hoss continued, forcing himself to block out Josie’s pleas.

            Ben sat silently on his horse and stared, unseeing, down at the ground.  At long last, he nodded weakly.  “Yeah,” he said quietly.  “I suppose you’re right.” 

            Josie knew it was over.  If Uncle Ben was giving up, then Adam was truly lost.  She leaned over to one side and retched.  Little Joe pulled Cochise alongside her, patted her back, and handed her a canteen so she could rinse her mouth.  Ben watched dolefully, thinking that vomiting did not sound like such a bad idea.

            “All right,” he said when Josie stopped heaving.  “Let’s go home.”  He sat up and tightened his grip on his reins to turn Buck around when a bit of movement on the desert floor below caught his eye.  Pip noticed it, too, and sniffed the air.  His tail wagged excitedly, and he let out two sharp barks.

            Ben squinted and made out the figure of a man staggering across the desert and dragging a load of some sort.  He sat up straighter in his saddle.  The man’s gait was all wrong, but his thatch of black hair was unmistakable.  Hoss, Joe, and Josie followed his gaze, and their jaws dropped open, all three of them stunned speechless.

            “Adam!” Ben squeaked.  Then more strongly, “ADAM!  ADAM!”  He kicked Buck hard and took off down the rocky hill, the rest of the family right behind him.

            Adam heard his father call his name but did not look up.  He had had so many hallucinations over the past few hours that he no longer trusted his senses.  He ignored the voice and continued plodding along, his head down.  He leaned back briefly against the travois, trying to summon strength that was not there.  He could not catch his breath, and he thought that perhaps he should just lie down for a little while.  This idea struck him as hilarious, and he dropped to all fours, cackling.

            Ben, Hoss, Josie, and Little Joe thundered down the hill and jerked to a stop a few feet from Adam and the travois.  They raced for him as Adam fell to the ground laughing hysterically.  Ben grabbed him and picked him up.  Adam thrashed wildly, so Hoss and Little Joe grabbed hold of him, too, and called his name to try to snap him back to reality.  Josie was stunned.  Not two minutes ago she had begun grieving for Adam, and now here he was in front of her, alive.  She wanted nothing more than to fling her arms around him and never let go, but she held back until her uncle and cousins could get him under control.  Adam clearly needed medical attention, and Josie would be no good to him if she got knocked out by one of his flailing hands.  She wrapped her arms around Pip instead and waited quietly, still staring at her cousin in disbelief.

            Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe kept shouting Adam’s name to get his attention, but it was no use; he was delirious.

            Adam felt several pairs of arms grabbing hold of him, and he giggled harder.  “There was no gold!” he babbled.  He did not understand why the people holding him were not laughing along.  The situation really was comical when you thought about it.

            “Adam!” Ben shouted in his son’s face.

            Adam’s maniacal, darting eyes slowed and focused as he realized he was not hallucinating.  The strong arms that held him were familiar, and it slowly dawned on him why.  Those arms had rocked him to sleep in the back of a covered wagon when he was a small boy.  They had handed him two baby brothers.  They had comforted him after the woman he wanted to marry broke his heart.  As the realization sank in, Adam’s laughter evolved into sobs, and he collapsed into his father’s arms.

            “Oh, Pa!” he sobbed.  Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe lowered him carefully to the ground, and Josie darted over.  Little Joe poured water from his canteen into his hand and wiped it gently across his brother’s cracked lips as Josie reached a hand in to feel Adam’s pulse.  His heartbeat was fast and fluttering, and he kept trying to push Josie’s hand away.

            “He was draggin’ a dead man, Pa,” Hoss said after checking the man on the travois.  Josie looked over at the prone figure and felt a small pang of guilt.  In her haste to reach Adam, she had completely forgotten that she might have a second patient.

            “He’s been through some kinda hell,” Little Joe said grimly.  Ben took the canteen from Joe and supported Adam’s head while he poured a little water into his son’s mouth.  Adam continued to sob, and Ben gathered him up in his arms, pulled him into his chest, and held him tightly.  Hoss, Josie, and Little Joe all reached out and placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder. 

            Josie was alarmed at how hot and dry Adam’s skin was.  “Uncle Ben,” she said urgently.  “We have to get him out of the sun.”

            Ben nodded in agreement.  Hoss leaned over to pick up Adam, but Ben waved him off.  “I’ve got him,” he said.  “You bring that other man.”  Ben put one arm under Adam’s knees and the other around his shoulders and stood up more easily than he had expected to.  He carried his son to a small copse of trees a few yards away and laid him carefully in the shade.

            The moment Adam was on the ground, Josie sprang into action.  She gave him a once-over with her eyes and shook her head.  His face was sunburned and blistered, his lips cracked, and he was covered in dirt.  Two weeks’ beard growth shrouded the lower half of his face, and through the tattered remains of his shirt, Josie could see that his arms and chest were covered in scrapes and bruises.  The palms of his hands were torn open where blisters had formed, broken, reformed, and broken again.  Adam’s head lolled slowly from side to side, and he muttered incoherently.  Ben leaned down and gave his son another sip from the canteen.

            “No more for a little bit, Uncle Ben,” Josie said.  “It doesn’t do him any good if it comes right back up.”

            Ben nodded.  “What do you need me to do?” he asked.

            “Just hold him,” Josie said as she knelt next to her cousin.  “Keep him calm.  Let him know he’s safe.”  Ben sat down, rested his son’s head in his lap, and stroked his matted hair while Josie examined him.  Hoss and Little Joe dragged the travois to a spot in the shade a few feet away and then sat down next to their father.

            Josie reached for her pocketknife to cut away what was left of Adam’s shirt and then decided a tool was not necessary.  She gripped the front of his shirt in both hands and yanked.  The threadbare fabric came apart easily, and Josie tossed the frayed, reeking garment aside.  “Phew,” she said.  “You need a bath, my friend.”  She glanced down at Adam’s bare torso and was aghast to see that he had lost at least twenty pounds.  Ben noticed, too, and grimaced.

            “He ain’t been eatin’,” Hoss observed.

            “No,” Josie agreed.

            Apart from the weight loss and the scrapes and bruises, though, Adam seemed to be intact.  Josie ran her hands expertly across his ribcage to check for broken ribs, but found none.  Quickly palpating his abdomen, she found no evidence of internal injuries, either.  She sighed in relief.

            “Well?” Ben asked, his brown eyes brimming with concern.

            “No major injuries,” she said.  “But he’s suffering from sunstroke and mild shock.  Lucky we found him when we did.  He wouldn’t have survived another hour.”

            “Will he be ok?” Little Joe queried, sounding more like a boy than the twenty-year-old man he was.

            “If we can cool him down,” Josie said.  She dug some rags out of her medical bag and doused a couple with water from her canteen.  She handed one to Ben, instructing him to bathe Adam’s face.  She took a second one and began wiping down his chest.  Adam shivered as the water hit his skin, and he tried to push their hands away, but Hoss and Joe each pinioned an arm, and Adam lay still again.  Josie opened her second canteen and poured the water slowly over Adam’s head.

            “Um,” Ben said, looking down.  Adam’s head still rested in his lap, and Josie had just soaked his trousers.

            Josie giggled for the first time in more than a week.  “Oh, sorry Uncle Ben,” she said.  “I didn’t think about that.”

            “It’s ok,” Ben said.  “It’s hot.”

            She checked Adam’s vitals again.  He was still much too warm, but his heartbeat and breathing were a bit slower and stronger.  “Atta boy,” she said, looking down fondly at Adam, who had, mercifully, passed out.

            “How long until he’s able to ride?” Ben asked.

            “Through this country?”  Josie asked.  “A week, at least.  He needs to rest.”

            Ben thought for a moment.  “Hoss, Joe,” he said as he gently shifted Adam’s head to the ground so he could stand up.  “You’ve got four or five hours of daylight left.  Think you can make it to Salt Flats and bring back a wagon in that much time?”

            Hoss did some quick calculations in his head.  “It’ll be close, but we can do, Pa,” he said. 

            “Good man,” Ben replied, clapping him on the shoulder.  He pulled out his wallet and gave Hoss a wad of bills.  “Pay whatever they ask, and if you have time, stop at the hotel and tell them we’ll need three rooms starting tomorrow.  And bring back some more water and a shovel, too.”  He gestured toward the corpse Adam had been dragging on the travois.

            “And some broth for Adam,” Josie added.

            Hoss and Little Joe nodded in acknowledgement, mounted up, and took off for town twenty miles away.

            After they left, Ben sat down next to Adam again as Josie continued tending to him.  He marveled at the young lady and felt guilty for underestimating her.  He had feared she would be frantic on this journey, but Josie had been stalwart.  She had never once complained about the heat or the difficulty of the ride, though Ben knew she had to be in pain.  And seeing as how he himself had wanted to vomit when he agreed to end the search, Ben could not blame Josie for emptying her stomach.  Now he watched admiringly as she calmly and expertly treated Adam.  His memory drifted to the day Adam arrived home from college and he had been filled with relief knowing that if anything ever happened to him, Adam would care for his little brothers.  Watching Josie work, Ben now knew that if anything happened to him, the burden would not shift entirely to Adam.  His sons and his niece would all care for each other.

            Josie roused Adam enough to give him another small sip of water, after which he promptly fell back asleep.  She dampened another rag and began wiping some of the dirt off of his arms.  When she reached his left wrist, she cringed.

            “What is it?” Ben asked.

            “Uncle Ben, look at this,” Josie said, holding up Adam’s left forearm.  Ben stepped over Adam to sit next to Josie and examine his son’s arm.  An angry red gash ran all the way around Adam’s left wrist.  “It looks like a burn,” Josie said, studying it carefully.

            Ben reached over and picked up Adam’s right arm.  As he expected, there was a matching burn on that wrist.  “He’s been tied up,” Ben said grimly.

            Josie flinched in disgust.  “Tied up?” she repeated.  “Rope burn.  Of course.”  She looked at Adam’s wrists again.  “Those ropes must have been awfully tight.”

            “Or he was struggling to get loose,” Ben suggested. 

            A lump rose in Josie’s throat at the thought of Adam straining to get free from an abductor.  She reached out with another damp cloth and gently cleaned the gashes on each wrist before bandaging them.  “Who would do that?” she asked in a wavering voice.

            “Probably the same men who took his money and his horse,” Ben surmised.

            “But they’ve been dead for days,” Josie said.  “These wounds are fresh.”  An epiphany struck her like lightning, and Josie leapt to her feet and walked over to the dead man.  She pulled off the blanket Hoss had covered him with and stared into the lifeless face.  Ben watched with curiosity as Josie lifted the dead man’s right forearm and manipulated his elbow.

            “What are you doing?” he asked.

            “Seeing how long this man has been dead,” Josie replied without turning around.

            “You can tell that by wiggling his arm?”

            “Yes,” Josie said.  “Rigor mortis hasn’t set in yet, so he couldn’t have died more than about two or three hours ago.”

            “Oh.”

            Josie examined the body.  This man was also covered in dirt, and his face, like Adam’s, was sunburnt and blistered.  She reached for his head to examine the back of it when she noticed ten long, thin bruises on the man’s throat. 

            “Uncle Ben!  Come look at this!” she called. 

            Ben hustled over and knelt next to his niece.  He did not fancy playing around with a corpse, but Josie seemed to have made a discovery of some kind.  “What is it?” he asked.

            “Look at the bruises on his throat,” she said, pointing.  “Don’t they look to be about the same size and shape as Adam’s fingers?”

            Despite his revulsion, Ben leaned closer to the body for a better look.  Josie was right; the bruises matched Adam’s hands.

            “Adam choked him to death?” Ben asked in shock as he glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping child.

            “No,” Josie said.  “This man didn’t die of strangulation.  You can tell by looking at the whites of his eyes, see?”  She pried open one of the man’s eyelids.  Ben recoiled but forced himself to look. 

            “What am I supposed to see?” he asked.

            “If Adam had strangled him to death, his eyes would be bloodshot.  But they’re not.  Plus,” she added, “the capillaries – those are the tiny blood vessels near the surface of your skin – would have burst, too, so his face would also be bloodshot, but it isn’t.  He’s just sunburned.”

            “So Adam started to strangle him but stopped.”

            “Yeah,” Josie said, sitting back on her haunches and scratching her head. 

            “Did Adam kill him some other way?”

            “No,” Josie replied.  “This man died of dehydration and exposure.  It’s strange, though.  It’s as if Adam started to kill him and then changed his mind.”

            Ben was perplexed.  Things were not adding up.  “If Adam didn’t kill him, why couldn’t this man walk out under his own power?”

            “Probably because of this,” Josie answered, turning the corpse’s head so Ben could see the bloody gash toward the back on the right side.  “It’s not bad enough to kill an otherwise healthy man, but it’s certainly enough to knock one out for several hours.”

            “But why drag him out, then?” Ben asked, his voice rising with frustration.  “If they were fighting that viciously, why didn’t Adam just leave him behind?  Adam would know he’d have a better chance at survival on his own.”

            Josie shrugged her shoulders.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “We’ll have to wait until Adam wakes up to get the full story.”  She peered closely into the dead man’s face.  “Who are you?” she asked.  Then she glanced back at Adam.  “And why weren’t the two of you getting along?”

            Adam stirred, so Josie flung the blanket back over the body and returned to her patient.  Ben held up Adam’s head and gave him a little more water.  Adam tried to take the canteen as Ben pulled it away from his lips, but Ben pushed his son’s hand back down.

            “Not too much at once, son,” he said gently.

            “Kane,” Adam muttered.

            “What that’s Adam?”

            “Kane,” Adam said.  “What happened…” he trailed off.

            “You mean your friend on the sled?” Josie asked.  Adam nodded weakly, his eyes nearly closed.

            “Not my friend,” he murmured.

            “He’s dead, son,” Ben said.  “Josie thinks he died a couple hours ago.”

            Adam’s eyes shot wide as an expression of horror crossed his face.  He grabbed the front of his father’s shirt with both hands.  “I didn’t kill him, Pa!” he cried.  “I didn’t!  I’m not an animal!”  He broke out sobbing again and buried his face in his father’s chest.

            Ben wrapped his arms around his son and let him cry, though Adam was still too dehydrated to shed tears.  He looked over Adam’s head at Josie, hoping for some sort of medical explanation, but Josie shrugged her shoulders helplessly.  She sat down on the ground next to Ben and rubbed Adam’s back.  Adam calmed quickly under the loving touch of his father and cousin, and Ben lowered him back to the ground.  Josie indulged him with another few sips of water, and Adam soon fell back to sleep. 

            Adam drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours as Josie and Ben took turns bathing his face and chest to keep him cool.  Josie thought he would run a fever for a day or so but felt that he was past the worst of the danger.  She and Ben decided they would all camp there for the night, and the following morning they would take Adam in the wagon to Salt Flats, where they could rest for a few days before riding home. 

            “That’ll give Joe time to go back for Cochise, too,” Ben said.

            Just before nightfall, Hoss and Little Joe returned with a wagon, shovel, a small keg of water, and broth.  Little Joe drove the wagon, having left Sport behind at Salt Flats’ livery stable for a well-deserved rest. 

            “How’s Adam?” Hoss asked and smiled when Josie said he was a little better.  Hoss handed Josie a small pail of broth.  “’Fraid it’s cold by now,” he apologized.  Josie assured him the temperature did not matter and skipped back to Adam with the pail in hand.
Little Joe looked down at the shrouded corpse.

            “Think we should wait until tomorrow to bury him?” he asked.

            “No!” Adam exclaimed, struggling to sit up.  Josie jumped in surprise.  She had had her back to him as she pried open the lid to the broth.  She turned around to Adam and slipped an arm behind his shoulders for support.  “No,” he repeated more quietly as everyone stared at him.  “Get him away from me.”

            “You got it, Older Brother,” Little Joe said.  “C’mon, Hoss.”  Little Joe grabbed the shovel, Hoss picked up the travois, and the two of them set off in the dark to dig a grave for Peter Kane.

           Ben knelt again by Adam’s side and took over from Josie as his son’s support.  “How are you feeling, son?” Ben asked softly.  Seeing Adam lucid again brought him a huge surge of relief.

            “Terrible,” Adam said, massaging his temples.  “My head won’t stop pounding.”

            “That’s the dehydration,” Josie said.  Adam’s head snapped up at the sound of Josie’s voice.  His face lit up as he noticed her presence for the first time.

            “Josie!” he cried and flung his arms around her.  “I thought I was never going to see you again,” he said, his voice muffled in Josie’s hair.

            “I know the feeling,” she replied and held tightly to him for several long moments.  “Come on now,” she said at last.  “Have a little of this broth Hoss brought for you.”

            Adam took a few sips of the broth and a few more of water before closing his eyes in exhaustion.  Ben laid him back down, and Josie untied her bedroll from Scout’s saddle and spread the blanket over her cousin.  Then she took the remaining rags from her medical bag and tied them in a bundle to create a makeshift pillow, which she slipped under Adam’s head.

            “Thanks,” Adam murmured before drifting off to sleep again.

            Once they were certain Adam was asleep, Josie and Ben pulled some jerky and stale biscuits from their saddlebags and ate for the first time that day.  Little Joe and Hoss soon joined them.

            “Is it done?” Ben asked.

            “Yeah, it’s done,” Hoss replied.  “He ain’t gonna bother no one else.”

            The four of them ate quietly, each lost in their own thoughts and too exhausted for conversation anyway.  Josie hardly tasted the food, and as soon as it was gone, she grabbed a spare bedroll and snuggled up next to Adam.  She thought she should feel some emotion – relief, joy, gratitude – but the fatigue was overwhelming.  She threw one arm protectively across Adam’s chest and within seconds was fast asleep for the first time in days.  Little Joe wrapped up in his own bedroll, flopped down next to Josie, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  He, too, was soon asleep. 

            “Now there’s a good idea,” Hoss said.  He stood and stretched, then collapsed next to Little Joe and closed his eyes.  Even Pip flopped onto the ground next to Hoss and began to snore softly.

            Ben gazed through the pale moonlight at the four sleeping cousins and said a silent prayer of thanks.  Then, succumbing to his own weariness, he lay down on Adam’s free side and slept deeply.

******

            Josie awoke every few hours throughout the night to check on Adam and give him more water.  Adam slept well, though when dawn broke the next morning, he jerked awake and glanced around wildly.  It took him several moments to remember where he was and how he had come to be reunited with his family, and the deep concentration caused his head to pound again.  He held his head in his hands and groaned.

            Ben and Josie both awoke when Adam sat up, and Ben laid a hand on his son’s shoulder.

            “How are you feeling, Adam?” Josie asked as she laid a hand on his forehand to check his temperature.

            “Dizzy,” he said truthfully.

            “That’s to be expected,” Josie assured him.  She handed him the pail of broth, and Adam downed it greedily.  He glanced sadly down at the empty pail and then up at his father and Josie.  “We’ll get you more food when we get to town,” Josie said.  “Let’s see how that settles first.”  Adam nodded, suddenly exhausted again.  He lay back down and closed his eyes.

            Ben pulled Josie aside.  “How is he?” he asked.

            Josie glanced over her shoulder at Adam, who had fallen back asleep.  “He’s still a bit warmer than I’d like,” she said.  “He’s also malnourished, dehydrated, and exhausted, but I don’t think he’s in any immediate danger.  We should put him in a cool bath when we get to town and then get him more broth.  He won’t be able to stomach solid food for at least another day.”

            Ben nodded, and after a quick breakfast, he, Hoss, Little Joe, and Josie packed up camp and prepared to head back for Salt Flats.  Hoss and Little Joe had spread a thick layer of clean straw in the back of the wagon, and they now spread one of their blankets over top the straw to create a bed for Adam.  In a burst of ingenuity, Hoss took a second blanket and secured it to the back of the seat and to both sides of the wagon to create a roof over the wagon bed so Adam would be out of the sun.  Josie complimented him on his good thinking.

            “Ain’t nothin’,” Hoss said bashfully, shrugging his shoulders.  “Just wish there was something we could do to keep from jostling him around.”

            Josie agreed.  The rocky ground was not going to provide a comfortable ride for Adam’s already battered body.  She thought for a moment and returned to Adam’s side, where she dug a bottle out of her medical bag.  She poured some of the reddish-brown liquid into a spoon, which she crammed into Adam’s mouth.  His face screwed up in disgust as the bitter medicine hit his taste buds and woke him up.  As Josie had hoped, he instinctively swallowed the offending liquid before he could think to spit it out.

            “Ugh!” he gagged.  His eyes blinked open, and he glared at Josie.  “What was that?” he asked grouchily.

            Josie held a canteen to his lips and gave him some water to wash the taste out of his mouth.  “Laudanum,” she said.

            Adam glared.  “I don’t need any medicine!” he protested.  “Just a little food, and I’ll… be… just…” his head dropped back onto his rag-pillow, and he began to snore softly.

            “Goodnight, Adam,” Josie said, patting his head.  She looked up at Ben, who was gazing down at her questioningly.  “He’ll sleep all the way to town now,” she explained.

            Ben smiled in approval.  “Let’s get him there,” he said.  He picked Adam up and laid him carefully in the wagon bed, where he crawled in next to him.  Little Joe tied Buck to the back of the wagon and climbed into the seat to drive, while Josie and Hoss mounted up on their own horses.  Joe clucked to the team, and the entourage set off for Salt Flats.

******

            It took nearly four hours for them to traverse the twenty miles to town.  Hoss and Little Joe had made the trip much faster the night before, but now Joe drove slowly to limit how much Adam got bounced around.  Ben lay stretched out in the wagon bed next to his son the entire way.  As Josie had predicted, Adam did not stir even once, but Ben refused to leave his side.  Wishing there was room in the wagon bed for her, too, Josie often circled around behind the wagon to peer in at her cousin and ask Ben if he needed anything.  When they were within a couple miles of town, Hoss rode ahead to secure their hotel rooms and ask them to draw a bath for Adam.

            They pulled up in front of the hotel, and Ben climbed stiffly down from the back of the wagon.  Josie crawled in to check on Adam and was pleased to see he was beginning to stir.

            “Well done, Dr. Cartwright,” she complimented herself on her dosage estimation.

            Hoss emerged from the hotel.  “We’re in rooms four, five, and six on the second floor,” he announced.  “Adam’s bath is ready; we can take him straight up to the washroom.”

            Adam was still groggy from the laudanum, so Ben and Hoss each draped one of his arms around their shoulders and half-carried him into the hotel.  The desk clerk leapt to his feet in alarm at the sight of the five filthy, sunburnt Cartwrights, one of whom was being dragged in by the others and looked like he had been living with a pack of wolves.

            “Good heavens!” he exclaimed, staring at Adam.  “Should I fetch the doctor?!”

            “No, thank you,” Ben called cordially over his shoulder as he and Hoss lugged Adam up the stairs.  “We’ve already got one.”

            The man stared incredulously after the Cartwrights as they made their way up the stairs.  That was when he noticed the enormous, shaggy dog that had followed them inside and was close at the heels of the dark-haired young lady who was bringing up the rear.

            “Hey!” he called.  “You can’t bring that animal in here!”  He started up the stairs toward Josie and Pip.

            In one swift motion, Josie whirled around, drew her Colt, and jabbed the muzzle sharply into the man’s belly.  Pip’s upper lip curled back, revealing a row of huge, glistening teeth.

            “I’m sorry,” she said sweetly.  “I didn’t catch that.  What did you say?” 

            The man stared nervously down at the gun and then over at the growling dog.  “I, uh,” he stammered.  “I said I’d, uh, bring you a bowl of water for your dog.”

            “Thank you!” Josie said.  “That’s too kind of you.”  In an excellent imitation of Little Joe, she curled her lip up at the man and glowered at him before holstering her gun and recommencing her ascent.

            All five Cartwrights and Pip tumbled into the washroom, where Josie tested the temperature of the bath water and deemed it suitable.  It was cool, but not cold.  She turned around to her family, Adam still leaning heavily on Hoss and Ben, and was met by four uncomfortable gazes.

            “What?” she asked.  “Get him undressed and chuck him in.”  She jerked her head toward the bathtub.  The four men continued to stare awkwardly at her, and Josie finally caught on.  “Oh for goodness sake,” she said impatiently.

            “There’s a bath waitin’ for you in room six,” Hoss said kindly.  He sensed Josie’s reluctance to part from Adam.  “Go get yourself cleaned up.  You’ll feel better.”

            Josie stalked out, muttering something about how they were all family and she was a doctor besides.  Pip followed her out of the washroom, and Josie closed the door a little harder than was necessary.

            Adam sighed as his father and brothers helped him settle into the bathtub.  The water stung as it seeped into the scratches that covered his chest and arms, but he could feel the heat leaching out of his body.  He leaned his head back and rested it on the back of the tub.  He was still fuzzy from the laudanum and barely noticed as his father produced a brush and a bar of soap and began scrubbing the filth off of him.  In any other situation, Adam would have been mortified to have his father bathing him, but right then he was too tired to care.  He dozed off half a dozen times and let out only a feeble “Ow,” when Hoss nicked him as he shaved the scruff from Adam’s face. 

            After fifteen minutes of intense scrubbing, Ben was satisfied that he had gotten all of the dirt off his son.  Without the protective layer of grit, however, Adam actually looked worse as now there was nothing hiding the cuts and bruises that peppered his chest and arms.  The bathwater was black with grime, so Hoss and Ben hauled Adam out of the tub and helped him dry off and put on the clean clothes Josie had so thoughtfully brought along for him. 

            Down the hall in her own room, Josie finished off a bath, too.  She pulled on her spare outfit and looked over at Pip, who was lying patiently on the floor near the tub.  He rose and ambled over to her.  She marveled at the dog, just over a year old, who had run tirelessly alongside them for ten days as they searched for Adam.  He had reached his full height of three feet at the shoulders, though his body was still lanky.  Adam had predicted he would put on twenty or thirty more pounds before he finished growing.  Josie knelt next to her pet and scratched his ears.

            “You did a good job out there, Pip,” she praised him.  Pip’s tail thumped happily on the wood floor.  “You did such a good job.”  Unexpectedly and all at once, the stress Josie had been holding in for the past week and a half broke free.  She threw her arms around Pip’s neck, buried her face in his wiry fur, and sobbed.  “We almost lost him, Pip!” she cried.  “How would I live without him?  I’ve never been so frightened in my life!”

            Josie cried for ten solid minutes until her tear ducts dried out and she began hiccupping.  Pip sat nobly throughout as his mistress clung to him and soaked his rusty fur with her tears.  A knock at her door brought her back to the present, and she wiped her nose on her shirtsleeve.

            “Come in,” she said.

            Hoss stepped into the room.  He, too, had bathed and was now clad in clean clothes.  “We got Adam all settled in his room if you wanna check on him,” he said.  Josie nodded and swallowed hard, hoping Hoss did not notice her tearstained face.  He did.  He held out his arms to her.  “C’mere, Little Sister,” he said.

            Josie raced into Hoss’s arms and held him fast.  She was all cried out, but she sagged against him in fatigue and relief.  The cousins stood there, arms around each other, for several minutes until Hoss stepped back.

            “We got some food coming,” he said with a big grin.  “Real food, not jerky and rock-hard biscuits.”    

            Josie smiled back.  “I can’t wait,” she said truthfully.  She realized she was hungry for the first time since she had received Little Joe’s telegram.  She and Pip slipped past Hoss, and Josie knocked softly on the door to the next bedroom.  Ben opened the door and ushered her into the room.

            Adam was asleep on one of the room’s two beds.  Josie crept quietly over to him and examined him again, making sure she had not missed any injuries that had been concealed by dirt.  He was once again clean-shaven, and Hoss had managed to comb the knots out of his hair.  His face was still red and blistered from the sun, and the scrapes on his arms and chest were more apparent now that the dirt was gone, but he no longer looked like a wild man.  Due to the hot day, Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe had not bothered to put a shirt on him, and Josie watched his bare chest rise and fall evenly for a few moments before reaching out to feel his forehead.  The cool bath had done the trick.  Adam’s skin was still warm from the sunburn, but his overall temperature was almost back to normal.  His eyes fluttered open at Josie’s touch.

            “Hey there, sleepyhead,” Josie said, smiling.

            “Hey yourself.”  Adam smiled back.  “No, wait a second, I’m angry with you,” he said and rolled over to face away from Josie.

            “What for?” Josie asked indignantly.

            “You drugged me,” Adam pouted.

            “You should thank me for that,” Josie said, smiling.  She knew Adam must be feeling better if he were pretending to be angry with her.  “The rest of us were awake for that ride.  It was unpleasant.”  She had never ridden as hard as she had the past ten days, and it was a miracle she was still able to walk.

            Adam rolled back over and looked up at Josie.  “Thank you,” he said formally.  Then his face softened and he repeated, “Thank you.  Thank you for taking care of me out there.”  His eyes glistened, and he swallowed a rising lump in his throat.

            “Don’t mention it,” Josie said, her eyes watery.  “We have a deal, remember?”

            Adam smiled at her again and held out his arms.  Josie sat on the edge of the bed and hugged him.  “I’m so sorry, Josie,” Adam said, his voice husky.  “I’m so sorry I put everyone through this.  All I could think of the entire time was getting back to all of you.”

            “What happened?” Josie asked as she let go of her cousin.

            “That’s a long story,” Adam sighed.  “You’re gonna have to feed me before I have the strength for that tale.”

            As if on cue, Little Joe popped into the room.  Behind him was the front desk clerk, now pushing a cart laden with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, and a large chocolate cake.  There was also a big, juicy steak for Pip.  Adam’s heart soared, then sank as Little Joe handed Josie a small pot of chicken soup, and he knew he would not be partaking in the feast.  Maybe if he played his cards right he could at least get a bite of the cake. 

            The scent of the food wafting down the hall lured Hoss into bedroom, and after paying the man from the desk, Ben invited the family to tuck in.  He propped up some pillows so Adam could sit up and handed him the pot of soup and a spoon.  Josie poured him a tall glass of water and set it on the table next to his bed.  Adam watched sadly as Hoss took a giant bite out of a chicken leg.

            “Mmm-mmm!” Hoss exclaimed.  “If that ain’t just the best thing I’ve ever tasted!”

            Adam stared forlornly into his little pot of soup.  “Hey, Joe,” he said, “hand me a piece of that chicken, would you?”

            Little Joe obediently reached for a wing to give Adam, but Josie grabbed his hand.  “No way, mister,” she told Adam.  “You try eating any of this heavy food just yet, and you’ll be seeing it twice.  You’re stickin’ to soup.”

            Adam looked to Ben, hoping his father would override Josie’s decision.

            “Sorry, son,” Ben said.  “Doctor’s orders.”

            Adam sighed and dunked his spoon into his soup, reminding himself that after the past two weeks, he should be grateful for food of any kind.  If only that fried chicken didn’t smell so good.

            Josie looked over at Adam and giggled.  He looked so pathetic, sitting there on his bed, glumly spooning soup into his mouth.  She grabbed another plate and placed a tiny dollop of mashed potatoes and half a dozen green beans on it and took it over to Adam.

            “Here,” she said, handing him the plate.  Adam grinned, set aside his soup, and took the plate.  The mashed potatoes and beans lasted less than thirty seconds, and his spirits now lifted, Adam polished off the entire pot of soup and two glasses of water.  Revitalized by the food, Adam felt better than he had since leaving Eastgate.

            “So,” he began when the rest of the family finished eating, “I guess you’re all wondering what the hell happened.”

            All eyes turned to Adam.

            “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, son,” Ben said, crossing the room to Adam’s bed.  He pulled an armchair up next to the bed and sat down.

            “It’s ok, Pa,” Adam assured him.  “I didn’t do anything I’m ashamed of.”

            For the next thirty minutes, Ben, Hoss, Josie, and Little Joe sat enrapt as Adam told them of being robbed, how he stumbled upon Peter Kane just before he keeled over, and how Kane had held him prisoner and forced him to work his worthless mine.

            “The worst part was that I heard you calling for me, Pa,” Adam said.  “You and Josie.  And I couldn’t get to you.  I tried, but I couldn’t.  Kane threw me on the ground, and I didn’t have the strength to get up.”  All five Cartwrights dabbed at their eyes.

            “I’m sorry we didn’t ride down off that mesa,” Ben said.  “I’m sorry we didn’t save you then.”

            “But you did, Pa,” Adam insisted.  “You all did.”  Ben raised an eyebrow.  “When Kane threw the rifle down between us and started counting, I thought I was done for.  I could barely stand, and I was just waiting for him to shoot me.  But then I saw you.  I saw all of you, as clearly as I do right now, and I knew I could do it.  I knew I could get away.  Because the four of you were out there.”

            Everyone’s tears flowed openly now, and Ben moved from the armchair to the edge of Adam’s bed and pulled his son into his arms once more. 

            “I’m sorry I lost the money,” Adam said.

            Ben took Adam’s chin in his hand and turned his son’s face up to meet his gaze.  “Oh, Adam, I don’t care about the money,” he said.  “We can make more money.  You are my true treasure, and you can’t be replaced.”

            Adam nodded and leaned back into his father’s chest, suddenly drained both physically and emotionally.

            “What I don’t understand,” Little Joe said, “is how Adam survived but this Kane fellow didn’t.  Don’t get me wrong, Adam, I’m pleased to pieces you’re ok, but Kane had to have been in better shape than you by that point, and he wasn’t even walking.  You were doing all the work.”

            “Maybe he just didn’t have anything to live for,” Hoss suggested.

            “That’s probably true,” Josie chimed in.  “I’ve seen it happen with patients.  A person’s morale has a lot to do with his ability to survive.  Sometimes people just give up.”

            Everyone sat silently for a few moments, processing Adam’s story and feeling thankful that they were all still together.  Finally, Ben gently shifted Adam back onto his pillows.

            “Get some more rest, son,” he said, brushing the hair from Adam’s forehead.  “We’ll stay here for a few days before heading home, so you just sleep.”  Adam nodded and closed his eyes and was asleep within seconds.

            Ben, Hoss, Josie, and Little Joe rose as one and met in the center of the room, where they fell into a group hug.  When they at last stepped back, Ben said, “You three stay here and rest.  I’m going down to the telegraph office to wire Hop Sing and let him know we found Adam.”

            Hoss looked at his father’s pale and careworn face and shook his head.  “No, Pa,” he said.  “I’ll do it.  You stay here in case Adam wakes up.  You’ll be the first one he looks for.”

            Ben was too tired to argue.  He nodded and let Hoss go.  When Hoss returned twenty minutes later, he found the rest of the family still together in one bedroom.  Adam was sound asleep with Josie stretched out on the bed next to him, her arm draped across his chest like it had been the previous night.  Ben was sprawled diagonally across second bed, and Little Joe was snoring in the armchair with his bare feet propped up on the edge of Adam’s bed.  Pip was curled up on the rug between the beds and wagged his tail happily when he saw Hoss.

            “Didn’t leave us no room, did they, boy?” he whispered to the dog.   Pip wagged again in reply.  “No matter,”Hoss said.  He pulled a couple pillows out from under his father, who did not even stir, and settled himself on the floor next to Pip.  “You wake me up if anything happens, ya hear?” he ordered.  Pip licked his face, and Hoss, too, was soon fast asleep.

            The Cartwrights slept right through the afternoon and into the early evening, when Josie went downstairs to order up more food.  After supper, at which Josie graciously allowed Adam three bites of roast beef and a biscuit in addition to his soup, they fell asleep again – still all in one room – and slept soundly until morning.

******

            The Cartwrights spent most of their next three days in Salt Flats sleeping and eating.  By the end of the second day, Adam felt well enough to eat dinner in the hotel restaurant, and on the third day, Little Joe and Hoss rode back to the small village where Joe had left Cochise.  The pinto’s hoof had healed enough that Little Joe could ride him as long as he was careful, and the Cartwrights had no plans to ride hard back to the Ponderosa.

            By the fourth day, they were ready to head home.  Adam was eating normally and had regained a good deal of his strength, though he looked even worse than he had when they had first cleaned him up.  The scrapes and gashes on his wrists, arms, and chest had scabbed over, and his sunburnt face had begun to peel.  But his good humor had returned, though he tended to startle easily and gave the strangers in Salt Flats an unusually wide berth.

            It took them three days to cover the same distance that Ben, Hoss, Josie and Little Joe had covered in a day and a half.  Joe was worried about Cochise’s hoof on the rocky ground, and Adam tired quickly, but he was thrilled to be riding Sport again.  He loved his horse and had agonized over the animal’s fate when he was stolen.  Adam bit back tears as they crossed onto Ponderosa land.  He was home.

            Hop Sing was waiting in a rocking chair on the porch when they rode into the front yard and dismounted.  Hoss had sent him a second telegram before they left from Salt Flats so he would know when to expect them home.  The cook sprang to his feet and rushed to Adam, tears streaming down his cheeks.  Adam gave him a tired smile.

            “Hey, Hop Sing,” he said. 

            “Adam, are you all right?” Hop Sing asked, peering into Adam’s burnt and peeling face.  In his relief at seeing his boy ride into the yard under his own power, he forgot to speak in broken English, but Adam was so worn out from the long ride that he did not notice.

            “I’m ok,” he said.  “Just hungry.  Hope you’ve got something good planned for dinner.”  Even after a week, Adam felt ravenous nearly all the time.

            “Hop Sing no cook,” Hop Sing said, shifting into pidgin.  “All Virginia City bling food!  Come see!  Come see!”

            The Cartwrights followed Hop Sing into the house, deposited their hats and guns, and stepped into the kitchen.  Their eyes bugged out at the sight that greeted them.  All of the counters and the small preparation table in the center of the kitchen were groaning under the weight of dozens of covered dishes of meats, vegetables, bread, biscuits, pies, cookies, and cakes.  Everyone’s mouths began watering, and Hoss unconsciously rubbed his stomach.

            “Where did all of this come from?” asked a stunned Ben.

            Josie checked a paper tag hanging from one of the dishes.  “Well, this one’s from Mrs. Larson,” she said.  She moved to the next dish.  “And this one’s from Delphine Marquette.”

            Little Joe started reading tags on the other side of the kitchen.  “Widow Hawkins,” he called out.  “Mrs. Lovejoy, Sally Cass, Mrs. Martin, Mrs. Bailey, the Crawfords, Abigail Myers…” he continued down the line, reading tags.

            “People hear Mr. Adam coming home, and ladies start blinging food,” Hop Sing explained.  “Lots and lots of food.  Hop Sing run out of room!”  He opened the pantry door to reveal still more covered dishes.

            Ben’s eyes filled with tears for what seemed the hundredth time that week.  The generosity of his friends and neighbors was overwhelming.  It would have been touching enough had their kindness been directed toward him, but the fact that this outpouring was for his child made it that much sweeter.  Adam was overwhelmed, too.  His recent experience had shaken his faith in the fundamental goodness of humanity, but the people of Virginia City were restoring it, one covered dish at a time.

            There was so much food that while Adam went upstairs for a bath, the other four, aided by Hop Sing, took a dozen or so dishes out to the men in the bunkhouse.  The hands were more than happy to help the Cartwrights consume all the food, though even with their help, the family had enough food to last a week.

            That evening, after everyone had stuffed themselves silly, the family was sitting in the great room when they heard two horses gallop into the yard.  Ben opened the door and was greeted by Ross Marquette and Simon Croft.  Ross’s face was pale and drawn, but Simon smiled happily and handed Ben a pie.

            “My ma made this for Adam,” he said.  “Said she thought apple was his favorite.”

            Ben’s first thought was “Oh, Lord, not more food!” but he thanked Simon and ushered him and Ross into the house.

            Ross glanced frantically around the living room, where Josie, Hoss, and Little Joe were rising to greet their guests.

            “Where’s Adam?” he demanded, frightened that his friend was not among his family in the great room.

            “He went to bed already,” Josie said, approaching Ross.  “He’s pretty tired, but I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.” 

            Without another word, Ross darted up the stairs.

            Josie turned to Simon as Ben took the pie into the kitchen.  “Thank you for coming all the way out here, especially so late,” she said.  “And your mother was right about the apple pie.  Adam will love it.  Would you like something to eat?”

            Simon grinned and nodded vigorously, so Josie led him into the kitchen, where there was just enough space at the small table for the two of them to sit down.

            “Whoa!” Simon exclaimed when he saw the offerings of the ladies of Virginia City.

            Josie laughed.  “What would you like?  We have quite a selection!”

            Simon opted for some of Delphine’s pot roast and Mrs. Lovejoy’s potatoes, finished off with a slab of Sally Cass’s chocolate cake.  As he ate, Josie told him the story of the past two weeks.

            Simon shook his head in amazement.  “It’s a miracle you found him,” he said.

            “Yes, I know,” Josie whispered, casting her eyes to the floor.  She willed herself not to cry in front of Simon.

            Simon cupped Josie’s chin in his hand and tilted her face back up.  “Hey,” he said softly.  “It’s ok.  You found him.  Adam’s fine.”

            Josie nodded and gave Simon a small smile.  She had never before noticed the gold flecks sprinkled throughout his deep brown eyes, but now she found them enchanting.  They gazed at each other for several moments until Little Joe burst into the kitchen and broke the spell.

            “Hey, Simon!” he said, completely unaware that he was intruding on a moment.  “Pa wants to know if you’d like some coffee or brandy.”

            Simon dropped Josie’s chin and looked over at Little Joe.  “No, thanks,” he said.  “I should be heading home.”  Josie could not hide her disappointment, and Simon noticed.  “But I could come back in a couple days,” he suggested.

            Josie grinned.  “I’d like that,” she said truthfully.

            “All right, then,” Simon said as he rose.  He kissed Josie swiftly on the cheek and headed out of the kitchen to say goodbye to Ben and Hoss.

            Josie sat silently, her fingers touching the spot on her cheek Simon had kissed. 

            “What’s the matter with you?” Little Joe asked.

            Josie dropped her hand.  “Nothing!” she insisted.  “Just too much sun lately.”

            “Sure,” Joe drawled, and he darted out of the kitchen before Josie could reply.

******

            In the days and weeks that followed, Adam regained his strength and started to put back on some of the weight he had lost.  For the most part, he seemed to suffer no long-lasting effects from his ordeal, though sometimes in the middle of a conversation or a game of chess, he would sigh heavily and go off by himself for the rest of the evening.  But as time wore on, even this subsided. 

Hoss seemed completely unfazed by the incident.  Once they had Adam home safe and sound, the whole trial was over in his mind.  For Ben, Josie, and Little Joe, however, the effects lasted a bit longer.  The three of them often bumped into each other in the hallway in the dead of night as they all went to peek in on Adam to reassure themselves that they really did have him back.  During one such midnight sojourn, Josie heard Little Joe thrashing around in his bed across the hall and rushed in to wake him from a nightmare.  Ben found the two of them the next morning curled up next to one another in Joe’s bed, Josie’s arm wrapped tightly around her younger cousin’s shoulders.

Simon also became a more familiar presence around the Ponderosa.  Initially, he and Ross both rode over frequently to help with Adam’s share of the work while he recovered, but once the eldest Cartwright cousin was back on his feet, Simon came just to call on Josie.  He kept the visits platonic, but by the end of summer, he and Josie were a common sight strolling around the Ponderosa’s duck pond or having lunch together in Virginia City on days Josie worked in the clinic.  Adam kept a leery eye on the situation, but Josie had proven herself more than self-sufficient during their trek through the desert in July, so even he gave his cousin a bit of space.  A bit.

By the time September rolled around, life had returned to normal on the Ponderosa.  Little Joe and Hoss drove the rest of the Ponderosa cattle to market in San Francisco, and Josie was kept busy delivering a bumper crop of babies. 

“My goodness,” she sighed one evening when she returned home from delivering her fourth baby that week.  “What got into everyone nine months ago?”

“It was a cold winter,” Adam observed.

Little Joe snickered.  “Yeah,” he said, “you gotta keep warm somehow.” 

“Like you’d know so much about it,” Adam teased.

Josie giggled as Little Joe pulled off one stinky sock and chucked it at his brother.

“Happens during wartime,” Ben said, not looking up from his newspaper.

“I’m sorry?” Josie asked.

Ben folded his paper and looked up at her.  “There’s always more babies born during wartime.  The future gets uncertain and people think they better take advantage of the present.  Your own father was born during the War of 1812.”

Josie had not thought of this.  “That’s true,” she agreed.  “Speaking of the elder Dr. Cartwright, I’m posting a letter to him tomorrow if anyone would like include a note.”  Ben grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and quickly scrawled out a short letter to his brother, which he handed to Josie to tuck into the envelope.
“I’ll ride into town with you tomorrow,” Ben said.  “I wouldn’t mind doing a little shopping for a certain young lady’s upcoming birthday.”  He smiled at Josie.

“Aw, shucks,” she replied, grinning back at him.

******

            When Ben and Josie arrived in Virginia City the following morning, the town was in an uproar.  Ben sought out Sheriff Coffee and asked what was going on.

            “There’s been another battle, Ben,” Roy answered. 

            Ben’s face darkened, and Josie clutched his hand.  While they had been away searching for Adam, the Union Army had been defeated once again in the Second Battle of Bull Run, and President Lincoln had fired General John Pope and reinstated General George McClellan.  Given McClellan’s reluctance to take action during his first stint as the Union commander, no one had expected him to engage the Confederates so soon.

            “Where was the battle?” Ben asked.

            “Can’t remember the name of the place,” Roy said.  “Somewhere in Maryland.” 

            Josie blanched.  “Papa’s with the main army in Maryland,” she whispered.

            Ben grasped Josie’s elbow and hustled her over to the telegraph office to get the full story. 

            “Happened two days ago.  They’re calling it the Battle of Antietam,” Morris said as he handed Ben a copy of the story that had come in over the wire from New York.

            “My god,” Ben said as he read the details.

            The Confederate army had crossed into Maryland in an attempt to win the state for the Confederacy.  Unfortunately for him, a Union corporal found a copy of General Robert E. Lee’s orders wrapped around three cigars and took them directly to Union General George McClellan.  The orders gave General McClellan a complete picture of Lee’s plans to divide his army and spread out across Maryland.  McClellan had the perfect opportunity to march through the gaps and defeat the Confederate army one little piece at a time.  So he sat and did nothing for eighteen hours, giving Lee’s men time to regroup near Sharpsburg, where the two armies clashed in the early hours of September 17.

            Both sides fought badly.  Lee’s defense was hastily and poorly planned, and McClellan refused to put all of his men on the battlefield at once, instead allowing them to be cut down one chunk at a time.  By the end of the day, 4,100 men lay dead with another 2,500 mortally wounded.  In all, the battle claimed more than 22,000 casualties.  It would be the bloodiest single day of the American Civil War.

            “At least the Union won,” Morris said hopefully.

            “There are no winners,” Ben said, not looking up from the story.

            Chastised, Morris sat quietly for a few moments before he remembered he had a telegram for Josie.  “Here you are, Dr. Cartwright,” he said, sliding it across the counter to her.

            “It’s from Papa!” she exclaimed, and Ben’s head snapped up.  “Well, sort of.  It’s from one the soldiers on his behalf.  It says he’s all right and not to worry about him.”

            “Who was worried?” Ben said, hugging Josie. 

            “I don’t envy him his job,” Josie said grimly.

******

            All of the Cartwrights were saddened by the news of Antietam, but Adam took it especially hard.  His stomach clenched in a hard knot as he read the story his father had brought home from town.

            “How much more do people have to do to each other to prove humanity is irreparably depraved?” he grumbled as he crumpled the paper and hurled it angrily into the fire. 

Ben and Josie shared a glance, both of them knowing that Adam was talking about more than the battle.  Ben sighed.  He thought that Adam had come through that summer’s ordeal with no lasting effects, but now he realized that his reserved son was carrying scars he had not let anyone see. 
Adam spent the next few days keeping to himself even more than usual.  His work, appetite, and sleep were unaffected, but he spoke as little as possible and would retire to his room immediately after supper in the evenings.  He cheered briefly on the twenty-third when the family had Simon, Patience, Margaret, and Sally over for supper to celebrate Josie’s twenty-second birthday, but the next day, he drew back into his shell.

On Saturday the twenty-seventh, Ben answered a knock at the door and was surprised to see Margaret standing on the porch. 

            “Hello, Mr. Cartwright!” she greeted him cheerfully.

            “Well, hello, Margaret!”  Ben was always glad to see Josie’s friends at the ranch and invited the young lady inside.  “Josie’s over at the old bunkhouse with a patient right now.  Would you like to wait for her?”

            “Certainly!” Margaret replied brightly.  “You might like to see this now, though.”  She handed Ben a newspaper from San Francisco.  “My father asked me to bring this by.  He said you and Josie and Adam would especially be interested.”

            As Ben skimmed the front page, his jaw dropped.  He looked over at Margaret, who was fluffing her curly brown hair in the mirror over the sideboard.  “Is this true?” he asked incredulously.

            Margaret turned to him.  “I would imagine so,” she said.  “It’s right there in black and white.”

            Ben called up the stairs for Adam.  When Adam reached the living room and greeted Margaret, Ben handed him the newspaper.  Adam’s eyes widened as he read the story.  Little Joe ambled in from the kitchen and asked what the big news was.

            Adam read aloud from the paper:  “On the first day of January in the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any State, or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free.”

            “President Lincoln’s setting the slaves free?” Little Joe asked.

            “That’s what it sounds like,” Ben said.

            “It won’t work,” Adam said cynically, handing the paper back to his father.

            “What do you mean, son?”

            “Look at it,” Adam said, pointing to the story.  “It says ‘any state… the people whereof shall then be in rebellion again the United States.’”

            “So?”

            “So,” Adam huffed impatiently, “he’s freeing the slaves only in the Confederate states.”

            “Ain’t that where the slaves live?” Joe asked.

            “Not all of them,” Adam said.  “You’re forgetting Maryland, Kentucky, Missouri, and Delaware.  They all have slaves, and they’re all still with the Union.  Besides, the Confederate states don’t recognize Abraham Lincoln as their president.  They’re not going to abide by this.  It’s just a symbolic gesture to make President Lincoln appear to be a humanitarian.  Nothing more than politics.”  He turned and stalked back upstairs without another word to anyone. 

            Ben turned to Margaret.  “I’m so sorry,” he apologized.  “He’s been like this for days.”

            “It’s all right, Mr. Cartwright,” Margaret said.  “Josie told me.  She’s worried about him.”

            “That makes two of us,” Ben said, gazing up the staircase.

            When Josie arrived home an hour later, she found Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe entertaining Margaret in the living room.  She greeted her friend and apologized to her family for being out later than she had expected.

            “Mrs. Bryson came in with her little boy Michael just as I was locking up,” she explained.

            “He ok?” Hoss asked with concern.

            “He will be,” Josie replied.  “He swallowed his pocket money, and Mrs. Bryson was worried it would make him sick.”

            Everyone laughed, especially Ben, who had dealt with little boys swallowing foreign objects plenty of times himself.

            “How much did he swallow?” Ben asked.

            “About seventeen cents.”

            “What did you do?” Margaret asked, genuinely curious.  She still assisted Josie at the clinic from time to time and soaked up every bit of medical knowledge that came her way.

            “The only thing I could do,” Josie answered.  “I gave him a big dose of magnesium hydroxide and told him to keep his eyes peeled for it to reappear.”

            “Ew!” Margaret, Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe exclaimed in unison.

            “I don’t know that I’d want it back after that,” Hoss mused.

            “Seventeen cents is a lot of money to a five-year-old,” Josie said. 

            Ben turned to his middle son.  “Hoss,” he said, “when you’re in town tomorrow, stop by the general store and tell Will Cass that if little Michael Bryson comes in and tries to pay for anything with coins, don’t accept them.  Just put it on my bill.”

            “You got it, Pa,” Hoss acknowledged.

            Margaret then showed Josie the newspaper, and Josie screamed in excitement.  She hugged Margaret as the two young ladies jumped up and down. 

            “I can’t believe it!” Josie said, wiping tears from her eyes.  “I’ll have to write to Aunt Rachel!  She and her abolition society must be beside themselves!”

            “Adam didn’t think it was such a big deal,” Little Joe said, and Ben explained Adam’s assessment of the event to Josie.

            “He’s got a point,” Josie admitted.  “But he’s also been a big killjoy the past week.  No, this is still a good thing.”  She grinned, but Ben could tell that beneath her smile, Josie was worrying about Adam.

******

            Adam’s melancholia lasted into October.  Josie was able to coax him into spending more time with the family, but he typically sat at the far end of the settee, not engaging in conversation.  She consulted all of her medical books, trying to find a solution that would bring him back around.  Unfortunately, all of her books suggested the same thing: a healthy diet, adequate sleep, and hard work, all of which Adam already partook in.  When one book suggested horseback riding as an effective therapy, Josie nearly threw her book into the fireplace.  She gave up on the “experts” and returned to getting Adam out of the house and among friends as often as she could.

            One evening in mid-October, Josie was in the kitchen with Ben peeling apples to be made into applejack for Christmas when there was a frantic pounding on the front door.  Hoss beat them both to the door where Sheriff Coffee’s deputy, Henry, stood, panting. 

            “Dr. Cartwright!” he said, catching sight of Josie.  “Doc Martin sent me.  He needs you at the clinic.  Seems a whole passel of miners came in from the camps, every single one of them with influenza.”

            “Angels and ministers of grace, defend us,” Adam quoted softly from behind Hoss.

            “I’ll be right there!” Josie said.  She raced upstairs and grabbed her medical bag as well as a carpetbag that she stuffed with extra clothes; she knew she would be in town for several days, at least. 

When she returned to the living room, Josie gathered her uncle and cousins together.  “Listen to me,” she said seriously, making eye contact with each one of them in turn. 

“None of you is to step foot off of this ranch until I say it’s clear, do you understand?  Influenza is highly contagious, and I’ll not have any of you catching it.”

            The four men nodded their assent.  Even Ben was willing to concede his authority to Josie in this situation.  He had lived through epidemics before and was not about to take any chances.

            “That goes for Hop Sing and the hands, too,” Josie told Ben.  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  She turned to leave, but Adam caught her arm.

            “Don’t go, Josie,” he said, his eyes burning with anxiety.  “You could get sick.”

            “I have to go, Adam,” Josie replied, brushing his cheek with her palm.  “I’ll be fine.”  She pulled out of his grasp, kissed each of them goodbye, and then she and Pip sped out of the house behind Henry.

******

            The situation in town was as bad as Josie could have imagined.  Six miners, four women, and three children had flooded into Dr. Martin’s clinic late that afternoon.  They all had the same symptoms: fever, chills, headache, cough, body aches, and runny noses.  Dr. Martin immediately diagnosed influenza and sent for Josie.  Thirteen seriously ill patients were enough for any doctor, and Paul Martin knew the situation would only get worse.  Once influenza took hold in a town, it would sweep through like wildfire.

            When Josie arrived, Dr. Martin and a few townsmen were in the process of moving the ill people from the clinic to Widow Hawkins’ boardinghouse across the street.  There were not enough beds in the clinic for everyone, and the widow had graciously offered the use of her boardinghouse.  Josie hastily tossed her carpetbag in the bedroom over the clinic and rushed to the boardinghouse. 

            Josie and Dr. Martin worked through the night trying to lower fevers and keep their patients comfortable.  Even Pip assisted, sticking close to the three sick children and barking for Josie whenever one of them needed something.  By morning, all the patients were showing signs of improvement except for one of the children.  The four-year-old had already developed pneumonia by the time his parents brought him into town, and despite the best efforts of Virginia City’s two doctors, the little boy died in Josie’s arms around three a.m.  There was no time for grief.  Josie pulled a sheet over the child’s face and returned to work.

            As the day wore on, six more people arrived at the boardinghouse, all of them sick with the flu.  Josie wiped her weary brow and turned to Dr. Martin.

            “This is going to get worse before it gets better, Paul,” she said.  “We need more help.”

            Dr. Martin agreed and sent Widow Hawkins to round up as many people as she could who would be willing to help tend to patients.  She came back two hours later with three young ladies in tow.  Josie nearly burst into tears when she saw Sally Cass, Patience Lovejoy, and Margaret Crawford coming to her rescue.  She hugged them all and ushered them inside, where she gave Margaret instructions for quinine dosages and Sally for sponge baths.  She set Patience to work heating up chicken broth and brewing pot after pot of willow bark tea, which Widow Hawkins delivered to the patients.

            By the end of the third day, twenty-seven patients were crammed into the boardinghouse.  The two doctors and four nurses took turns sleeping in three-hour shifts so there were always at least four people looking after patients.  By then, however, several of the ill, particularly the oldest and the youngest, were succumbing to pneumonia, and Sally visited the undertaker with the solemn request that he begin building coffins.

            On the fourth day, Sheriff Coffee and his deputies began carrying bodies to the undertaker, freeing up the beds for the patients who continued to stream into the boardinghouse.

******

            Back on the Ponderosa, the Cartwright men had obeyed Josie’s orders to stay put.  Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe used the time to relax, read, and play checkers, but Adam could hardly sit still.  Josie had sent Pip home on the fifth day with a note describing the situation in town and reiterating her command for them to stay on the ranch.  Adam had sent Pip back to town with a note telling Josie they loved her and to let them know if she needed anything, but it felt so inadequate.  He was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace on the sixth night when his father finally reached the end of his rope.

            “Adam!” Ben barked, looking up from his book.  “Would you please quit wearing a rut in the floor and sit down?!”

            “Sorry, Pa,” Adam said.  He dropped onto the settee and began jiggling his right leg up and down as he tapped his fingers on his knee.   Little Joe and Hoss looked over from their game of cards and snickered.

            Ben sighed.  “Son, what’s eating you?”

            “I don’t know what you mean.”

            Ben set his book aside.  “Yes, you do.  Ever since the Battle of Antietam you’ve been melancholy and irritable.  Now you’re fidgeting like a schoolboy in a boring lecture.  So either come out with it or let it go!”

            Adam heaved a sigh of his own.  “It’s just people, Pa,” he said.  When Ben said nothing, Adam reluctantly continued.  “I always thought that humanity was fundamentally good.  Even after this summer, when I saw all the food the ladies from town had brought, I could still believe that.  But Antietam proved me wrong.  Even President Lincoln proved me wrong, Pa.  I’m sure he means well with this Emancipation Proclamation, but even he wouldn’t issue it out of the goodness of his heart.  Even he has an ulterior motive.  The world just isn’t the good place I thought it was.”  His jeremiad concluded, Adam dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

            “So that’s what it is,” Ben said.  He had expected Adam’s troubles were something along this line. 

“Yep, that would be it,” Adam replied.

            “Son,” Ben began, “you want the world to be a good place?  Then go make it one.  Stop moping about the house, and go make the world a good place, like I’ve always known you can.”

            Adam looked up at his father, a new light in his hazel eyes.  “That’s a great idea!” he exclaimed.  He jumped from his seat and took off for his bedroom.

            “Where are you going?” Ben asked in surprise.  Adam was not known for impulsivity – that was Little Joe’s department.

            “To pack up some clothes!” Adam called down the stairs.  “I’m going into town!”

            “Adam!” Ben cried in alarm.  “You can’t!  The influenza epidemic!  Josie said to stay on the ranch.”

            Adam reappeared at the top of the stairs.  “That’s why I’m going, Pa,” he explained.  “You read Josie’s note.  They’re up to their ears in patients over there.  She would never say so, but I know she needs more help.”

            Ben sighed.  “That’s not exactly what I meant about making the world a good place, Adam,” he said.  “It’s wonderful that you want to help, but influenza is highly catching and dangerous.  You can’t go putting yourself at risk-“

            “Why not?” Adam interrupted.  “Josie is.  Even when there isn’t an epidemic, Josie puts herself at risk every single day for the good of others.”  He paused, then continued more quietly.  “Just like all those Union soldiers at Antietam.”

            Ben sighed again.  “All right, son,” he said.  “If you feel that’s what you have to do.”

            Adam grinned broadly at Ben and ducked back into his room to finish throwing some clothes and a couple books into his carpetbag.  Within thirty minutes, he was mounted up on Sport and headed for Virginia City.

******

            It was just after ten p.m. when Adam and Sport trotted into town.  Most of the houses were dark, but Widow Hawkins’s boardinghouse was lit up like a Christmas tree, and Adam could see silhouettes through the windows.  He recognized Josie’s immediately as she rushed from room to room.  He left Sport at the livery stable, apologizing to the stable boy for the late hour, and swept back to the boardinghouse.  He dithered on the porch, uncertain if protocol dictated that he knock in this situation, then decided it probably did not.  Adam let himself in.

            The sight that greeted him nearly knocked him back onto the porch.  The lobby, usually an inviting room with a lovely little table for taking tea, several squashy armchairs, and a display of the Widow’s late husband’s weightlifting memorabilia, had been stripped of its decorations, and the floor was now covered with patients, some on cots, but most on the floor.  Many were delirious with fever and were moaning and shouting nonsense.  Others, whose illness had progressed to pneumonia, were hit with violent spells of a wracking cough that made Adam’s throat and chest hurt just to hear them.  One young lady shivered violently, despite being covered by three thick blankets.  Adam was stunned.  This was worse than anything he could have imagined, and this was only the lobby.  The boardinghouse had three stories.

            As Adam stood by the front door deciding where he should start looking for Josie, Patience entered the room carrying a large tray of steaming tea cups.  Adam’s nose wrinkled as he recognized the bitter odor of willow bark tea.

            “Hey, Patience,” he said.

            Patience was so startled she nearly flung her tray in the air.  “Adam!” she exclaimed as she brought the wobbling tea cups back under control.  “What are you doing here?”  Worry creased her face.  “Are you sick?” she asked urgently.

            “No,” Adam said, stepping over a prostrate patient and taking the tray from Patience.  “I’m here to help.  Do you know where Josie is?”

            Patience studied him for a moment.  Josie had told her about Adam’s recent mood, but his eyes shone with a genuine interest and concern.  “I’ll go get her,” she said.  “But I can’t promise she’ll be glad to see you.”

            Patience was correct.  When Josie flew into the lobby a few minutes later, she was furious.  “What do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded.  “I told you all to stay on the ranch!”

            “I wanted to help,” Adam said.  “You’ve got so many patients here.  I just wanted to help.”  The explanation sounded lame when he spoke it aloud.

            Josie wanted nothing more than for Adam to turn around and go home.  She could not bear the thought of him contracting the flu; in his current mood she was not sure he would fight it off.  But when her eyes met his, she saw the same bright interest and concern Patience had recognized.  It was the first time in a month those familiar hazel eyes had been anything but dull and apathetic.  “We could use more help,” Josie admitted.  “Especially since Margaret came down sick yesterday.” 

            Adam closed his eyes and sighed heavily at this bad news.  “How is she?” he asked.

            “It’s hard to say,” Josie said flatly.  “Everyone’s bad at first.  We’ll know more in another day or two.  Either she’ll start to get better, or she won’t.”

            Adam nodded, amazed by Josie’s professional detachment.  If Ross or Delphine were seriously ill, Adam knew he would be beside himself.  He said a silent prayer for mercy, not only for Margaret, but for everyone lying sick in the boardinghouse.

            “What can I do?” he asked. 

            As Josie thought where best to place him, Adam noticed how pale and thin she was, as if she had not been eating or sleeping properly for the past week – which, he realized, she probably hadn’t been.  Her typically shiny black hair was dull and lank, and she had deep, dark circles under her eyes. 

            “Come with me,” Josie said at last.  “I’ll put you to work on the third floor.”

            Josie led Adam up to the third floor and put him in charge of checking fevers, delivering tea, broth, and quinine, and alerting either her or Dr. Martin if someone took a turn for the worse.

            “Who’s in that room?” Adam asked, pointing to a closed door at the end of the hall.  Josie had taken him into every other room on the floor to introduce him to the patients, but she had skipped that one.

Josie sighed.  “Do you know the Pearsons?” she asked.

            Adam nodded.  Bert Pearson ran a small farm outside of town, and his wife, Amy, was an accomplished seamstress; nearly every lady in town owned a dress she had sewn.  Adam knew they had a young daughter, but he could not remember her name.  “They all sick?” he asked, envisioning the room on the other side of the door packed with the ill family and wondering why Josie had not taken him in.

            “There were,” Josie said grimly.  “Bert died three days ago, and Amy followed him the next morning.”

            “Good Lord,” Adam breathed.

            “Their daughter, Elizabeth, is still sick,” Josie continued.  “She was doing a lot better; Paul and I both expected her to make a full recovery, until we had to tell her yesterday that both her parents were dead.  She’s refused all food and water since then.  She won’t even talk to anyone.”

            Adam swallowed a hard lump in his throat.  “How old is she?” he asked.

            “Six.  Paul wants to try force-feeding her tomorrow, but I’ve never seen that work very well.  At this rate, she isn’t going to last more than another day or two.  We hoped that putting her in a private room where she could grieve openly would help, but it hasn’t.”

            “It’s the lack of will to live we talked about this summer, isn’t it?” Adam asked.

            “Unfortunately, yes,” Josie said.  “I have to get back downstairs, so I’ll leave you to it.  Sally and the Widow are sleeping right now, so you and I can have a break in about three hours.  I’ll come get you.”

            “Ok.”

            Josie started to leave, then turned back to Adam and gave him a big hug.  “I am glad to see you, all things considered,” she said.  “Thank you for doing this.”

            “Anything for you, Little Sister,” Adam said, smiling down at her.

            Josie returned to the second floor, and Adam began his rounds.  After one lap of the floor, he poked his head in on little Elizabeth Pearson.  He opened the door quietly, expecting the child to be asleep – it was just past midnight – but she lay on her side with her back to the door, her large green eyes open and staring blankly at the wall.

            “Hey there,” Adam said softly, but tiny girl did not respond.  He set his tray of tea and broth on the table next to the bed and pulled up a chair.  He laid a hand on the girl’s forehead.  Her fever did not seem to be too high, but she had the sallow complexion that accompanies dehydration.  “I’m Adam,” he introduced himself.  “Adam Cartwright.  What’s your name?”  He knew very well what her name was, but it seemed polite to ask.

            Still no response.

            Adam tucked a strand of the girl’s limp, light-brown hair behind her ear and tried again.  “If you won’t tell me your name, I’ll just have to guess.”  He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling in thought.  “Is it Rumpelstiltskin?”

            No response.

            “I didn’t think so, but better safe than sorry,” Adam said.  “Is it Seamus McGillacutty?  No?  That’s all right, I’ll keep trying.  How about George Washington?  No, that can’t be it, you’re a little young for wooden teeth.”  This elicited a small smirk from the slight figure in the bed.  “Am I at least getting close?” Adam asked, encouraged by this small acknowledgement.  “What about Loony McGee?”

            “Elizabeth Pearson,” the little girl whispered in a feeble voice.

            Adam’s eyes lit up.  “Elizabeth!” he exclaimed in mock exasperation as he threw his hands up in the air.  “That was going to be next guess.  Honest.”  The little girl smiled fully now.  “My mother’s name was Elizabeth,” Adam continued.  “I’ve always thought that was the most beautiful name in the whole world.”

            “Really?”  Elizabeth rolled over to look at him, her green eyes lighting up.

            “Really,” Adam confirmed.  “And it only gets bestowed on the most beautiful little girls.”  Elizabeth smiled again.

            As Adam coaxed Elizabeth into telling him her name, Josie had come up the stairs to see if he wanted a snack.  She paused outside Elizabeth’s door and smiled to herself as she heard Adam guessing silly names; it reminded her of the way he used to cheer her up when she was small.  When Elizabeth replied, Josie’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and she lingered outside the door to eavesdrop.

            “You know,” Adam continued, “Elizabeth is also Dr. Cartwright’s middle name.”

            Elizabeth scowled.  “Dr. Cartwright’s mean,” she pouted.

            “You’re telling me, kid, I live with her,” Adam commiserated.

            Josie considered poking her head into the room so she could stick her tongue out at Adam, but she did not want to disrupt the progress he was making with the little girl.

            “Tell you what,” Adam said, turning back to his patient, “how about you have some of this broth I brought in?”

            Elizabeth shook her head.  “Ain’t hungry,” she said and pursed her lips.

            “Funny thing about hunger,” Adam said, picking up the bowl of broth, “you let it go on long enough, and you quit feeling it.  Believe me, I know.”  His face darkened briefly.  “Besides, the fastest way to get Dr. Cartwright to quit being so mean is to do what she says, so sit up and have a few spoonfuls.”

            Elizabeth wrinkled her freckled nose.  “Do I have to drink the tea, too?” she asked.

            Adam chuckled.  “Absolutely not!” he said.  “I wouldn’t wish that stuff on anybody.  But if Dr. Cartwright asks, you drank the whole cup, all right?”  He winked at the little girl, and she winked back.

            Elizabeth tried to sit up, but after two days with no food or water, she did not have the strength.  Adam shifted from his chair to the edge of her bed so he could lift her into a sitting position.  He put his left arm around her for support and leaned her back against his chest.  He held the bowl of broth in his left hand and carefully spooned
the liquid into Elizabeth’s mouth with his right.

            Josie could hardly believe what she was seeing.  She raced to the stairs and called down for Dr. Martin.

            “Paul!” she hissed, not wanting Elizabeth and Adam to hear her.  “Paul, you’ve got to see this!”

            Dr. Martin jogged up the stairs and started to ask what was going on, but Josie hushed him.  She led him down the hall and indicated that he should peek into Elizabeth Pearson’s room.  Dr. Martin’s eyes widened as he saw Adam feeding Elizabeth, who not only was eating willingly, but was also carrying on a conversation.

            “How?” Dr. Martin asked, turning back to Josie.

            Josie smiled.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “And frankly, I don’t care.  She’s eating.”  The two doctors watched a few moments more before heading downstairs to see to the rest of their patients.

            Over the next ten minutes, Elizabeth finished off the entire bowl of broth and a large glass of water.  Adam eased the little girl back onto her pillows and told her to get some sleep.

            “Adam, my folks is dead,” she said unexpectedly.

            Adam was surprised by this sudden change of topic and shifted his weight from foot to foot for a moment while he collected his thoughts. 

            “I know,” he said.  “Dr. Cartwright told me.  I’m so sorry, Elizabeth.”

            A fat tear rolled down the little girl’s cheek.  “What am I gonna do?” she asked.  “I’m all alone.”

            “No, you’re not,” Adam said, pulling the covers up to her shoulders.  “You’ve got a whole town full of people who will make sure you’re taken care of.  I will personally make sure you’re taken care of.  So right now, you just go to sleep and don’t worry about it.”

            “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

            “Of course I will.”

            “Will you be back tomorrow?”

            “Absolutely.”

            “Ok.”

            Elizabeth closed her eyes and reached for Adam’s hand.  He held it tightly until she loosened her grip, and he knew she was asleep.  He gazed down at the sleeping child and could not help feeling proud of himself.  He hummed quietly as he slipped out of the room and closed the door.   

            Sally and Widow Hawkins had returned by the time Adam made it back downstairs, so he and Josie retired to Josie’s room above the Dr. Martin’s clinic for a few hours’ sleep.  Adam thought they might chat a bit before turning in, but as soon as they reached the room, Josie dropped onto the nearest of the two beds and fell asleep instantly. 

            “When in Rome,” he thought, and he set an alarm clock for four-thirty a.m., lay down on the second bed, and fell asleep.

            When the alarm went off three hours later, Adam groaned and slapped at it until it quit clanging.  Josie slept right through it.  Adam looked fondly over at his cousin on the other bed a few feet away.  She had not even taken off her shoes before falling onto the bed, and her right arm dangled off the side.  Adam knew she was exhausted and he wished he could let her continue sleeping, but he was not willing to face her wrath when she discovered he had not woken her for her next shift.  He got up and gently shook her shoulder.

            “Josie,” he said softly.  “Wake up.”

            Josie’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked confusedly up at Adam.  “Adam?” she asked.  “What are you doing here?  Oh right,” she finished as the memory came back to her.  “Sorry; the days are all bleeding together.”

            “It’s ok,” Adam said as Josie sat up and rubbed her eyes. 

            Josie sighed heavily.  “Let’s get back to it,” she said.

            They returned to the boardinghouse to relieve Dr. Martin and Patience, who told her that Margaret was growing worse.  Dr. Martin pulled Josie aside.

            “Her fever’s still climbing, Josie,” he said.  “I don’t know if she can fight through it.”

            Josie nodded resignedly.  This strain of influenza was fast-moving.  A patient could go from healthy to dead in a matter of days.  As with any epidemic, it hit children and the elderly hardest – about eighty percent of the patients they had lost so far had been either younger than six or older than sixty – but some young adults had succumbed, too.  Adam laid a comforting hand on Josie’s shoulder.

            “Go check on Elizabeth,” Josie told him, pulling away from his hand.  “If she’s awake, give her more broth.”

            Adam understood.  Josie was fighting to maintain her composure; she could not afford to be comforted right now.  He mounted the stairs to check on his little patient.  Elizabeth was still asleep, but Adam thought she looked a little better.  He tucked another strand of hair behind her ear and left the room to check on the rest of the third-floor patients.  One of the older women was gasping for breath, so Adam ran down to the second floor to get Josie.

            He found Josie bent over Margaret, who was lying motionless on a cot on the floor of one of the bedrooms.  Josie was gently dabbing her friend’s forehead with a damp rag.

            “How is she?” Adam asked.

            “Not good,” Josie said without turning around.  “Paul was right; she’s getting worse.”

            Adam looked down at Margaret, whose curly brown hair swirled around her head like a halo.  He could not believe that just a few days ago she had been healthy and vibrant and tending to patients. 

            “I’m sorry to pull you away, but Mrs. Peterson upstairs is having trouble breathing,” he said.

            “Right,” Josie said.  She rose heavily to her feet and followed Adam upstairs.

            Josie checked Mrs. Peterson and told Adam that the woman had only hours left.

            “If she wakes up, talk to her,” Josie said.  “Let her know she’s not alone.  But she probably won’t wake up.”  She made a quick round of the other patients on the third floor and then headed back downstairs.

            Adam continued sponging off fevered foreheads and giving sips of tea and broth to the patients who were awake.  He checked on Elizabeth a couple more times, but the little girl was still sleeping peacefully.  Around eight a.m. he returned to Mrs. Peterson, whose gasping had turned into a deep, gurgling, rattle.  Adam knew a death rattle when he heard one, so he sat next to the elderly woman, took her hand in his, and waited.  He did not have long to wait.  Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Peterson took one last breath and then breathed no more.  Adam said a quiet prayer and pulled the blankets up over the woman’s head.  When Sheriff Coffee and his deputies came by shortly thereafter, they carried Mrs. Peterson to the undertaker, along with three other patients who had died during the night.

            Elizabeth finally awoke shortly before ten a.m. and called for Adam.  He raced into her room with more broth, which the little girl slurped up readily.  After the previous night’s food, water, and sleep, Elizabeth was able to sit up unassisted, and the color was returning to her freckled cheeks.  As she ate, Adam entertained her with stories about Boston and Washington, DC.  Elizabeth was particularly fascinated by the idea that the “mean” Dr. Cartwright had once been a young girl, too.

            “What was Dr. Cartwright like when she was little?” the girl asked.

            Adam thought about this for a second.  “Shorter,” he answered truthfully.  Josie had matured, certainly, but she still had the same spirit and stubbornness she had exhibited as a child.

            Elizabeth found Adam’s answer hilarious and giggled herself into a coughing fit.  Adam handed her a glass of water and rubbed her back until her coughing settled.

            “You should get some more sleep,” he said. 

            Elizabeth scowled but laid back down, nuzzling her face into her pillows.  “Adam?” she asked as he turned to go.

            “Yes?”

            “Would you sing to me?  Pa always sang me to sleep.”  The little girl’s eyes filled with tears that spilled over onto her pillow.  Adam marveled at how she could go from giggling to grieving so quickly, but then he remembered Little Joe in the months after his mother had died.  One minute the boy would be laughing and chasing around after Hoss, and the next he would be climbing into Adam’s lap and sobbing.  Children grieved in fits and starts, he supposed.

            “Sure,” Adam said.  He sat down next to the bed again and launched into the first song that popped into his head.

            One floor below, Josie’s ears pricked up when she heard a familiar baritone wafting down the stairs.  She listened in amazement as Adam made his way through the first verse: “Early in the morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a maiden singing in the valley below.  ‘Oh, don’t deceive me.  Oh, never leave me.  How could you use a poor maid so?’”

            Dr. Martin heard him, too, and glanced over at Josie, who was staring at him wide-eyed.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked.  “A little music could do us all some good.”

            “You don’t understand,” Josie said.  “Adam hasn’t sung in over a month.  I couldn’t even get him to sing me a song on my birthday.”    

            Dr. Martin smiled.  “Welcome back, Adam,” he said, and turned back to his patient.

            “And welcome back, Elizabeth,” Josie added.

            When the song ended, Elizabeth smiled up at Adam.

            “Thank you,” she said.

            “You’re welcome,” Adam replied.  “It’s just too bad I don’t have my guitar with me.  Now go to sleep.”  He kissed her forehead and slipped out of the room.
            Adam and Josie took another three-hour rest from eleven to two, establishing the pattern they would follow for the next several days: six hours on, three hours off.  Adam marveled that Josie had been able to keep up such a schedule for more than a week already.  Adam was wiped out after the second day, and all that kept him putting one foot in front of the other was the way little Elizabeth Pearson’s face lit up when he stepped into her room.  The child was improving rapidly under Adam’s care, but six more patients died over the next couple days, and by Adam’s fourth day at the makeshift hospital, Margaret Crawford was ready to join their ranks.

            Around noon that day, Adam stepped into the room where Margaret lay with four other patients and found Josie, Dr. Martin, Sally, and Patience all crowded around Margaret’s cot.  Josie dabbed at her friend’s forehead with a cool compress as she begged her to wake up.

            “Please, Margaret, don’t go,” Josie whispered.

            “Patience,” Dr. Martin said, “would you please fetch Miss Crawford’s parents?”

            “I’ll bring my father, too,” Patience said and rushed out of the room, nearly colliding with Adam in her haste.

            Adam swallowed hard and stepped over to Dr. Martin.

            “Paul?” he said. 

            Dr. Martin turned to look at Adam and shook his head.  By the time her parents arrived, Margaret was gasping for air.  Reverend Lovejoy arrived just in time to say a prayer over the girl before she gasped her last and lay still.  Mrs. Crawford let out a wail that shook the windows as Patience and Sally clung to each other and wept.  Silently, Josie caressed her friend’s cheek a final time and pulled the sheet over the young woman’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to her friend’s lifeless form. 

When Josie tried to stand, her strength finally gave out, and her knees buckled.  But her Cousin-Cousin was not going to let her fall.  Adam caught her and held her tightly for a few moments before leading her from the room.

            “Josie,” he said, “you need to rest.  You can’t go on like this.”

            Josie shook her head and drew in a deep breath.  “No,” she said weakly, “there are other patients who need me.”  She took two steps away from Adam before her knees buckled again.  Once more, Adam caught her.  This time, however, he picked her up and carried her downstairs and out the door of the boardinghouse.  He bore her across the street to the clinic and up to their room.  Just before he laid her on her bed, Josie broke out in violent, body-wracking sobs.  She clutched the front of Adam’s shirt, which was soon soaked through with her tears.  Still holding his cousin in his arms, Adam sat down on the edge of Josie’s bed and let her cry.

            “I’m sorry,” Josie said at last, her nose stuffy from crying.  “I don’t know what came over me.”

            “It’s all right,” Adam said, though he knew Josie understood full well what came over her.  She was exhausted beyond the limits of endurance, and one of her best friends had just died.  Adam laid Josie down on her bed and pulled off her shoes.  “You sleep for a while.  I’ll go back to the boardinghouse to help.”

            Josie was too tired and overcome with grief to argue.  She closed her eyes and drifted off.  Adam lingered a few moments to make sure she was truly asleep and then went back to the boardinghouse.  He met Sheriff Coffee on the porch; the lawman had come to take Margaret Crawford’s body to the undertaker.

            “Sorry to hear about Margaret, Adam,” Roy said.  “How’s Josie?”

            “Exhausted,” Adam said.  “She’s sleeping right now.”

            Roy nodded.  “That’s good.  Wouldn’t want her getting sick, too.”

            Adam shuddered at the thought.  “Hey, Roy,” he said, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.  Elizabeth Pearson.  What’s going to happen to her?”
            “She’s got an aunt and uncle in Sacramento,” Roy said.  “I was going to wire them tomorrow, but it’ll probably be several weeks before the stage comes back to town.  They’ve refused to come through while the influenza’s here.  Why do you ask?”

            “Just curious,” Adam said.  “She’ll be well enough to leave here in another day or two.  Wasn’t sure where she’d go.”

            “I’m sure we can find someone to take in a little girl for a few weeks until her family can fetch her,” Roy replied.

            “I’ll take her to the Ponderosa,” Adam said.  “She’ll like it there.  She’s used to being on a farm, and she’ll have fun playing with Hoss and Little Joe.”

            Roy’s eyebrows went up.  “You talked to your pa about this?”

            “I can make decisions without consulting Pa,” Adam huffed.  “Besides, he wouldn’t turn away an orphaned little girl.”

            Roy agreed, and the two men went inside.  Adam went straight to Elizabeth’s room.  She squealed with delight and threw her arms around Adam’s neck when he told her she would come home with him and Dr. Cartwright for a few weeks.  Adam felt happier than he had in months.

            Adam let Josie sleep for a solid eight hours before he went back across the street to wake her up.  He brought some venison stew and biscuits that the owner of the International House had sent over for the doctors and nurses.  After the long sleep and the hearty meal, Josie felt like a new woman and accompanied Adam back to the boardinghouse, where they relieved Dr. Martin.

            That was the first night they had no new patients arrive at the boardinghouse, and Josie allowed herself to hope that the epidemic was slowing.  Over the next five days, they received only two new patients, and most of those already in the boardinghouse recovered sufficiently to return home.  Charlotte Larson offered to take Elizabeth to her house until Josie and Adam were ready to return to the Ponderosa, but Adam and the little girl enjoyed each other’s company so much that they kept her at the boardinghouse, where she played with Pip and helped deliver tea to the patients.  As the workload continued to lighten, she, Josie, and Adam would often entertain the remaining patients in the evening with songs and silly stories they made up.  Elizabeth even decided that Dr. Cartwright was not so mean after all when one evening Josie presented her with a doll she had purchased during a quick run to the general store.

            Finally, in early November, after three and a half weeks, the last patient returned home, and Widow Hawkins was able to reclaim her boardinghouse.  In all, the makeshift hospital had treated 117 patients, thirty-two of whom had died.  Josie was proud of the eighty-five people they had been able to save, but her heart ached for every patient they had lost, especially her dear Margaret.  Josie nearly sobbed with relief as she and Adam saddled up Scout and Sport and, swinging Elizabeth into Sport’s saddle with Adam, headed home at last.

******

            Pip had run home with a note about Elizabeth’s arrival, so Ben ensured that the downstairs guestroom was ready for the little girl.  Hoss had ridden out to the Pearsons’ farm to collect Elizabeth’s clothes and a few toys, and the men had put all of these away in the drawers in the guestroom.  Ben had been surprised to read Adam’s note about the little girl, but he was pleased.  Adam’s enthusiasm had shone through the short note, and Ben was looking forward to seeing his son happy again, though he was filled with sorrow for the thirty-two people the epidemic had claimed.

            When Adam, Josie, and Elizabeth finally rode into the front yard, Ben was startled to see how thin his son and niece were.  Adam had lost the weight he had recently regained after the summer’s ordeal, and Josie appeared to have lost ten pounds off her already slim frame.  Both of them slouched in their saddles as if they did not have the energy to sit up properly.  Only the little girl seemed well fed and rested.  She waited patiently atop Sport while Adam slid to the ground and reached up for her.  Josie nearly tumbled off of Scout and gratefully handed the horse’s reins over to Jimmy.  She trudged slowly over to the porch and fell into her uncle’s arms.

            “Welcome home, Josie,” Ben said, stroking his niece’s hair.

            “I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to be home,” Josie admitted as she drew a deep, shuddering breath.

            Adam walked over to them with Elizabeth perched in his arms.  “Hey, Pa,” he said, shifting the little girl to his left side so he could shake his father’s hand.

            “Good to have you home, son,” Ben said warmly.  “And this must be Elizabeth!”  He gently tweaked the girl’s cheek.  Elizabeth giggled and buried her face in Adam’s shoulder.

            Adam introduced Elizabeth to his father as well as to Hoss and Little Joe, who had wandered out to the porch when they heard Adam’s and Josie’s voices.

            “Let’s get you all inside,” Ben said, rubbing his arms vigorously.  “It’s cold out here.”

            Adam set Elizabeth on the ground and took her hand as they entered the house.  Her eyes widened as she gazed around the enormous home; the living room alone was as big as the farmhouse she had lived in her entire life.   Adam led her into the guestroom.

            “This is your room!” he announced proudly.  He was pleased to see that Hoss had set out a few of Elizabeth’s own toys in plain sight.  She raced over to them.

            “My blocks!” she squealed delightedly.

            “We got your clothes in the bureau there, too,” Hoss said.

            Elizabeth went over to the bureau and opened one of the drawers.  She pulled out a blue gingham dress, buried her face in it, and inhaled deeply.  “Still smells like Ma’s laundry soap,” she whispered and burst into tears.

            Ben instinctively reached for the crying child, but Adam beat him to her.  He scooped Elizabeth up in his arms and sat down with her in the nearby rocking chair, where he rocked her gently and spoke soothingly to her.

            Ben smiled sadly.  He remembered how after the death of Little Joe’s mother, Adam would often rock the then four-year-old in that very chair.  Adam clearly had not lost a step in the past sixteen years, and Ben caught himself daydreaming of grandchildren.  He shook his head to clear the thought and whispered to Adam that dinner would be ready in a few minutes.  Adam nodded as he continued to rock the weeping girl, and the rest of the family left the room.

            Josie made a beeline for the washroom, where she filled the bathtub nearly to the brim with steaming hot water.  She sank into it and sighed deeply.  She sat in the bath so long that Little Joe came upstairs and banged on the washroom door.

            “Hey, Josie!  What happened?  You drown?”

            “Yes!” Josie shouted back. 

            “Well resurrect yourself and come have supper!”

            Josie groaned and lifted herself wearily from the bathtub.  By the time she dressed and made her way back downstairs, Elizabeth was all cheered up and was chasing Hoss around the coffee table.  Josie laughed as Hoss let Elizabeth catch him and tackle him to the ground.

            “Come on, you two!” Ben called.  “Supper’s ready.”

            Everyone raced to the table except Josie and Adam, who trudged heavily to their seats.  Hop Sing had roasted two chickens to celebrate the end of the epidemic and Josie and Adam’s return home.  After Ben blessed the food, everyone dug in.  Ben suppressed a chuckle as Elizabeth gave Adam very specific instructions for the correct placement of the chicken, potatoes, and carrots on her plate.  Ben, Hoss, and Little Joe tried to engage Adam and Josie in conversation, but it was apparent that neither of them had the energy for much beyond lifting food to their mouths.  By the time Hop Sing served the pumpkin pie he had made for dessert, Josie’s eyes were drooping.  A few minutes later, her head dropped toward the table, and Hoss snatched her plate away just before Josie’s face landed in her pie.  Josie’s head snapped back up as soon as it hit the table.

            “What?!” she shouted, her eyes wild.  “What is it?!  It’s ok!  I’m awake!  I’m awake!”  She blinked her eyes a few times, looked around at her very amused family, and remembered where she was.  Ben, Hoss, Little Joe, and Elizabeth broke out in giggles, and even Adam joined in with a tired chuckle.

            “Josie,” Ben said once he brought his own laughter under control, “go to bed.”

            “Gladly,” she replied.  She excused herself from the table, kissed everyone goodnight, and headed upstairs, where she collapsed onto her bed and fell asleep fully clothed.

            Once the dinner dishes were cleared, Adam took Elizabeth into her room and helped her change into her nightgown.  As had already become their custom, he tucked her into bed and sang her a song – tonight’s selection was “Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming.”  Ben smiled as his son’s voice drifted through the door and into the living room.  Like Josie, Ben had missed hearing Adam sing.

            When the song ended, Adam kissed Elizabeth’s forehead and headed back into the living room.  Ben handed him a brandy, but Adam waved it away.  “Bedtime for me, too,” he said and started for the stairs.

            Ben grabbed his arm and turned Adam to face him.  “Son,” he said, “it’s good to have you back.”

            Adam smiled; he understood his father’s meaning.  “Thanks, Pa,” he said and turned once more toward his bedroom.

            When he heard Adam’s door close, Little Joe turned to his father.  “He saved that little girl’s life, didn’t he, Pa?”

            “I think they saved each other,” Ben responded.

******

            Everyone enjoyed the three weeks Elizabeth Pearson spent on the Ponderosa.  The child still had bad moments as she continued to grapple with the reality of losing her parents, but she always had an honorary big brother or sister on hand to comfort her.  She enjoyed chasing around the front yard with Pip and jumping out at Little Joe from around corners.  She tried this on both Hoss and Adam, but Little Joe had the best reactions; he could scream louder than anyone else in the family.  But Elizabeth’s favorite pastime was following Adam around the ranch.  This impeded his work a bit, but he managed to find little chores she could do to help him out.  Elizabeth particularly enjoyed the day she spent helping Adam patch up some holes in a few of the line shacks.  He handed her a paintbrush and a pail of pitch and told her to have fun.  Josie shook her head when Adam and Elizabeth returned home that evening, and she saw the little girl was coated in the sticky resin.

            “If you think I’m bathing her tonight, you’ve got another think coming,” Josie told Adam as he guided the filthy child into the house.  

            It took Adam forty-five minutes to scrub all the pitch off of Elizabeth while Josie watched and laughed.

            Once Elizabeth finally emerged from her bath, her skin pink from all the scrubbing, Adam dressed her in her nightgown and carried her downstairs for a bedtime story.  Elizabeth insisted he read to her in the living room rather than her bedroom so the entire family could hear the story, too, so Adam sat down in Ben’s burgundy armchair, and Elizabeth snuggled up in his lap and rested her head against his chest.  She would not let him begin reading, however, until Ben, Hoss, Josie, Little Joe, and Hop Sing were all seated quietly in the living room. 

            “All right,” Adam said, opening a battered volume of fairy tales, which fell open to a familiar, much-loved story.  “The Steadfast Tin Soldier,” he announced and began to read.

            Elizabeth fell asleep in Adam’s lap only halfway through the story, but Hoss insisted he finish the tale.  When the story was over, Adam handed Hoss the book and carefully picked up Elizabeth so her head rested on his shoulder.  He carried her to her bedroom, laid her in bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin.  He stood there for a moment, gazing wistfully at the sleeping little girl.  After several long minutes, he kissed Elizabeth’s forehead and left the room.

            The weeks followed in much the same pattern with Elizabeth tagging along after Adam like a tiny shadow.  One day, watching Elizabeth riding on Adam’s shoulders as he walked out to the barn, Hoss remarked to Josie, “Looks like you been replaced, Little Sister.”

            Josie laughed.  “That’s what I get for growing up,” she replied, smiling.  There was something very fitting and natural about seeing Adam carry a little child around with him, and as much as she loved having the whole family living together at the ranch house, Josie thought perhaps it was time Adam moved on with his own life.

            The day in late November when Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle arrived from Sacramento to claim her was a sad one for the Cartwrights.  But when Elizabeth saw her father’s sister step off the stage in Virginia City and screamed “Aunt Peggy!” as she rushed into the woman’s arms, they knew the little girl was going where she belonged.  They all hugged her goodbye and wished her well.  Elizabeth held onto Adam a long time.

            “I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered.

            “I’ll miss you, too, kid,” Adam replied, blinking back tears.  “I’ll visit you every time I come through Sacramento.”

            “Promise?”

            “I promise.”

            Adam kissed Elizabeth’s forehead one last time, and lifted her into the stage beside her aunt.  As they watched the stage drive away, Ben put an arm around Adam’s shoulders.

            “You all right, son?” he asked.

            “Yeah,” Adam replied truthfully.  “She belongs with her family.  I have to admit, though…  No, never mind.”

            “What?” Ben asked.

            “It’s silly.”

            “Coming from you?  I doubt that.” 

            Adam chuckled; his father knew him well.  “It’s just that part of me had hoped Roy wouldn’t be able to locate her family.  I had it all planned out.  I thought I’d adopt her and build us a little house down by the lake.  Maybe Josie would like to live out there, too.”  He dropped his head in embarrassment.

            “That’s not silly, Adam,” Ben said.  “That’s beautiful.”

            Adam sighed.  “I want a family, Pa.”

            “What do you call us?” Ben asked in mock bemusement as he gestured to Adam’s brothers and cousin, who were chatting with one another a few feet away.

            “You know what I mean,” Adam said, smiling as he kicked at a dirt clod.

            “Well, get on with it then.  Do you have young woman in mind to assist you with this endeavor?”

            Adam looked up at his father, a dopey grin spreading across his face.  “No,” he said and broke into a laugh.

            Ben laughed, too, and clapped his son on the back.  “You’ll just have to start looking, then.  Come on, let’s have lunch.” 

            They turned around and rejoined the family, Ben’s arm still draped across Adam’s shoulders.

******

            Though they missed Elizabeth, the entire Cartwright family looked forward to Christmas.  As it was only the first week of December, it was much too early to bring in a tree, but Josie and Hop Sing sat down one afternoon and began planning the food and drinks for the Christmas party.  Josie wanted to try her hand at making her mother’s famous minced pies, and Hop Sing had plans for a punch that would use rum instead of brandy, which pleased Josie immensely.

            Late in the evening of the twelfth, just as a light snow was beginning to fall, the Cartwrights heard a wagon thundering into the yard.  Ben hurried over and opened the front door.

            “Dr. Cartwright!  Dr. Cartwright!” a man’s voice called from out of the darkness.

            “Isaiah?” Ben hollered back.  “Is that you?”

            “Yeah!  We need Dr. Cartwright!” the man replied urgently.  Isaiah Jenkins and his wife, Ellie, lived in the mining camp, and Isaiah occasionally did odd jobs around the Ponderosa to earn a little extra money.

            Josie rushed outside with Ben to discover a hugely pregnant Ellie Jenkins panting in the back of the wagon.  “Bring her inside!” Josie ordered Ben and Isaiah.

            Ben pulled Josie aside.  “Don’t you think she’d be better off in your clinic over at the old bunkhouse?” he asked.

            Josie pointed to the moaning, crying woman.  “You want to tell her she has to ride another half mile in the back of that wagon in the snow, or shall I?” she asked.

            Ben grunted.  “Good point,” he agreed.  After three sons, Benjamin Cartwright knew better than to cross a woman in labor.  He helped Isaiah carry Ellie into the downstairs guestroom.  They laid her down on the bed and Josie sent Little Joe for her medical bag. 

            “How long has she been in labor?” Josie asked Isaiah.

            “Few hours,” the man replied, anxiously crimping the brim of his hat between his fingers.  “I wanted to come for you right away, but Ellie made me wait.  Said babies take a while.”

            “She’s right,” Josie said.  She turned to her patient.  “Ellie, how many babies have you had?”

            “Two,” Ellie gasped.  Another contraction seized her, and she cried out in pain.  Josie felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck crawl, and she turned around to see Ben, Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe, now clutching Josie’s medical bag, staring at her wide-eyed.

            “All right, everybody out,” Josie ordered.  “Except you, Hoss.  I may need your help.”

            Ben grabbed Isaiah’s arm and dragged him out of the room.  Adam followed, but Little Joe stood frozen in place, clinging to Josie’s medical bag and staring fearfully at the laboring woman.  “Joe!” Josie snapped to get his attention.

            “Huh?” he asked, slack-jawed.

            Josie pried her bag from Joe’s grasp.  “I need you to do a very important job for me,” she said.  “I need you to go into the kitchen and start boiling pots of water.  Lots and lots of water.  As much as you can manage.”

            “Ok,” Joe said stupidly and left the room.

            “What’s the hot water for?” Hoss asked.

            “For getting rid of Joe,” Josie replied and turned back to Ellie.  She knew a woman on her third baby would be likely to deliver a bit faster, and a quick examination of Ellie confirmed this.  But when Josie felt the woman’s abdomen, her brow furrowed in concern.

            Hoss noticed the change in Josie’s expression before Ellie did.  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

            Josie laid a hand tenderly on Ellie’s sweaty brow.  “Ellie,” she said softly.  “Your baby hasn’t turned.  I need to try to turn him.  I’m going to push on your stomach pretty hard.  You won’t like it, but I have to try.”

            Ellie nodded bravely and clutched Hoss’s outstretched hand.  Josie moved into position next to Ellie, placed her hands on the woman’s abdomen and pushed with all her might.

            Out in the living room, Isaiah Jenkins was drinking his way through Ben’s brandy supply and pacing in increasingly crooked lines in front of the fireplace. 

            “My third one, and this don’t get any easier,” he slurred.

            “Yeah, I know the feeling,” Ben said.

            Ben opened his mouth to offer up some words of encouragement to the drunk father, but just then, Little Joe came tearing out of the kitchen with a pot of boiling water.

            “Josie!” he called excitedly, though he was several paces from the closed guestroom door.  “I got the water! I got the-  oops!”  As he passed the dining room table, he tripped over a chair leg and fell hard to the floor, spilling the scalding water all over his lap.  “Yow!” he yelled and leapt to his feet.  “Hot!  Hot!”  Completely forgetting that they had company, Little Joe dropped his trousers to get the wet, burning fabric off of his skin.  He stood there in his undershorts with his pants around his ankles and sighed in relief.

            Ben and Adam watched the scene unfold from their seats in the living room.  Adam covered his eyes with one hand while Ben stared in disbelief.

            “Joseph!” Ben barked.  Little Joe turned toward his father with an innocent expression on his face.  “We have a guest!”

            Little Joe’s wide-eyed innocence evolved into wide-eyed horror as he remembered the presence of Isaiah Jenkins, who was staring at him through glassy eyes.  Joe grabbed his pants and yanked them back up.  His eyes watered as the still-hot fabric connected with his legs, and he raced upstairs to his room for dry trousers.

            “S’ok, Ben,” Isaiah said, swaying slightly on his feet.  “I know you done your best with him.”

            “Thanks, Isaiah, that means a lot,” Ben said sarcastically. 

            Adam rose to mop up the water when the three men heard a sharp cry of pain from the guestroom.

“Ellie!” Isaiah cried and staggered toward the door.

Adam caught him.  “It’s all right, Isaiah,” he tried to reason with the drunken man.  “If Ellie needs you, Josie will send Hoss out for you.  Now sit down before you fall down.”  He steered Isaiah into the blue armchair near the fire, where the man sat wringing his hands.  Sensing the man’s distress, Pip rose from his position in front of the fireplace and sat down next to the armchair.  Isaiah dropped his hand onto the dog’s head and swirled his wiry fur with one finger.

In the guestroom, Josie was having no luck getting Ellie’s baby to turn.  She wiped sweat from her brow and looked over at Hoss.  “He just won’t budge!” she exclaimed in frustration.  She looked down at Ellie.  The woman was pale, and her breathing was shallow.  When Josie asked if either of her other two babies had been born breech, Ellie gazed up at her fuzzily as if she did not know where she was or who was speaking to her. 

“Where’s Isaiah?” she asked weakly.  “My head hurts.”

Josie’s stomach dropped at Ellie’s last statement, and she made a quick decision.  “He’s just outside the door,” she said gently.  “I’ll go get him.”  She beckoned for Hoss to follow her and stepped out of the room.

All three men in the living room leapt to their feet when Josie stepped out of the guestroom with Hoss and closed the door behind them.

“The baby here?” Isaiah asked excitedly.  “I didn’t hear no cryin’.  It a boy or a girl?  Ellie’d be pleased as punch to have a little girl after two boys,” he babbled, giving Ben a knowing wink.

Adam could tell from the look on Josie’s face that she was not bearing good news.  He grabbed Isaiah’s arm and steered him back to the armchair.

Once they were all seated, including Little Joe who had returned wearing dry pants, Josie gently explained that the baby had not turned.

“So what?” Isaiah said.  “Lots of babies don’t turn, don’t they?”

“That’s true,” Josie said.  “And while a breech birth is dangerous, a mother and baby can typically pull through it if there are no other complicating factors.”

“Ellie’s got complicatin’ factors?” Isaiah asked in confusion.

Josie looked up grimly at her uncle, who laid a hand on Isaiah’s shoulder.  “Yes,” she said.  “I believe she’s suffering from a condition called eclampsia.  It happens sometimes; there are a number of theories why, but no one’s really sure.  But what it means is she has to deliver this baby now – right now – or she and the baby may very well not make it.”

Ben gripped the back of Isaiah’s armchair with his free hand as terrible memories flooded his mind.  Losing Elizabeth to childbirth had been bad enough, but to have lost
Adam, too…  Ben could not imagine the pain.

Isaiah did not notice his host’s distress behind him.  “So deliver it already!” he shouted.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Josie said.  “Because the baby hasn’t turned, he isn’t in a position where I can pull him out with my forceps.  I need your permission to attempt a cesarean section.”

Adam drew in a sharp breath.  He had heard Jacob mention the procedure once or twice during his time in Washington, but even his uncle had never attempted one.

“A what?” Isaiah asked, giving his brandy snifter a dirty look as if it were to blame for the strange words coming from the young doctor’s mouth.

“A cesarean section,” Josie repeated patiently.  “It’s a surgical procedure for delivering a baby.”

Isaiah understood the word “surgical.”  “You mean you’re gonna cut her open?” he whispered.

“That’s one way to put it, yes,” Josie replied.  “I’ll make an incision in her abdomen, remove the baby, and stitch her up.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up.  “You can do that?” he asked in amazement.

Josie nodded, though Ben could see it was not her usual confident affirmation.  His niece had doubts about this procedure, but he knew that if she was suggesting it, then the mother in the guestroom was out of options.

“But she could die!” Isaiah protested.

“Yes, she could,” Josie agreed.  “But this is the best chance she’s got.  If I don’t at least try, you’re going to lose them both.”

A stunned silence settled over the living room while Isaiah processed what Josie had told him.  He looked up at Ben for help.

“Josie,” Ben said, “have you ever done this before?”

“Yes,” Josie replied confidently.  “Twice.  Successful both times, though every mother is different.”

Ben nodded down at Isaiah.

“All right,” Isaiah said, his shoulders sagging.  “Give it a try.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” Josie said.  “Would you like to see her first?”

Isaiah nodded vigorously and darted into the guestroom.  The Cartwrights stayed in the living room to give him and his wife a few moments of privacy.

“Josie, have you really done this twice?” Ben asked.

Josie looked up at her uncle indignantly.  “Of course I have!” she huffed.  Then quietly, she added, “On dogs.”

“DOGS?!” Ben shouted.  The others immediately shushed him.

“It’s the same principle,” Josie argued.  “And it’s the only chance Ellie Jenkins has.”

Adam rested his hands on Josie’s shoulders.  “I know you can do this, Josie.”

“Thanks, Adam,” she said.  “Come on, Hoss, let’s get started.”  She grabbed Hoss’s elbow, and the two of them returned to the guestroom, from which Isaiah Jenkins made a reluctant exit.  Ben guided him back to the armchair and gave him another brandy.

Josie gave Ellie a quick explanation of the procedure, but the woman was too confused to understand much of what was going on, so Josie nodded at Hoss, who administered the chloroform to put Ellie out.  Josie drew a scalpel out of her bag and let it hover over Ellie’s abdomen for a moment.  She took a deep breath and began her incision.

Hoss had seen plenty of blood in his day – much of it his own – but he had never seen it drawn so deliberately.  Josie had to pause frequently to wipe away the blood so she could see what she was doing.  Her hands and apron were soon coated red.  Her stomach churned with fear, but she forced herself to remain calm.  At last, after what felt like hours but Josie knew could have been only a few minutes, she spotted the baby.  She called Hoss over and handed him the spreader to keep the incision open as she reached in and lifted the tiny infant out of its mother’s womb.  Much to Josie’s relief and delight, the child let out an ear-splitting wail.  Hoss looked up at Josie, a huge grin spreading across his face and tears trickling from his bright blue eyes.  Josie smiled back and gave Hoss instructions for cutting the umbilical cord.  He gently removed the spreader from the incision and picked up Josie’s surgical scissors. 

“There you go, little one,” he said happily as he snipped the cord.  He carried the infant over to the washstand where he proceeded to clean her up while Josie stitched Ellie’s incision closed.  “Look how tiny she is, Josie!” Hoss exclaimed as he carefully wiped down the squalling infant.  “You think I was ever this tiny?”

“No, Hoss,” Josie giggled as she continued stitching.  “I highly doubt you were ever that tiny.” 

She finished her stitches, bandaged the incision site, and removed the chloroform rag from Ellie’s face.  “Come on, Ellie, wake up,” Josie whispered.  She was pleased that Ellie’s breathing and pulse were strong, and she prayed that she had delivered the baby in time to prevent further complications from the eclampsia.  The chloroform wore off quickly, and Ellie blinked as she came to.

“Dr. Cartwright?” she whispered as she gazed up at Josie.  “My baby… what happened?”

Josie nearly cried with relief.  “It’s ok, Ellie,” she said.  “You have a beautiful baby girl.”

Tears streamed from Ellie’s eyes as Hoss handed her the swaddled baby.  “Come on, Josie,” Hoss said, putting an arm around her shoulders.  “Let’s go tell everyone the good news.”

The four men in the living room – five, counting Pip – had heard the infant’s first cries and had raced to the guestroom door, where they were waiting anxiously when Josie and Hoss emerged.  Isaiah nearly fell over onto Josie, but Little Joe grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him back.

“Congratulations, Mr. Jenkins,” Josie said.  “It’s a girl!”  Isaiah broke into a huge grin as Ben slapped him on the back and congratulated him.  Pip let loose with a few happy yips.

“And Ellie?” Isaiah asked urgently.

“Is all right,” Josie said.  “She’ll need to stay here a few days so I can ensure her incision doesn’t get infected, but she’s already cooing over your daughter in there.”
Isaiah grinned again and shoved his way into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Ben handed Josie a brandy, which she immediately passed to Hoss.  “Well done, Dr. Cartwright!” Ben declared, slapping Josie’s back so heartily that she stumbled.  “Oh, sorry.”

“Yes, well done, Dr. Cartwright!” Adam echoed, his face beaming.  “I’d hug you, but…” he gestured to Josie’s bloody apron and hands.

“Yeah,” Josie said slowly.  “About that.  Uncle Ben, I’ll buy new bedding for that room.”

Ben and Adam grimaced at that image, and Little Joe’s upper lip curled up in disgust.

“Sorry,” Josie apologized.  Ben assured her it was all right, given the circumstances, and Josie excused herself to clean up, feeling happier than she had in a long time.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, including the new baby and her parents, Josie slipped back downstairs for a glass of milk.  She was surprised to see Ben sitting in his burgundy armchair and staring into the dying fire.

“Uncle Ben?” she inquired softly.

Ben jumped.  “Sorry, Josephine,” he said.  “I didn’t hear you come downstairs.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” Ben said quickly, glancing up at Josie with a halfhearted smile.

“You’re a worse liar than Hoss, you know,” Josie replied.  “And he’s a pretty bad liar.”

Ben chuckled and knew he was caught.  “Just lost in thought,” he said.  

“What were you thinking about?”

“The night Adam was born,” Ben admitted as he shifted in his chair.  “After what you did for Ellie tonight, I can’t help but think if the doctor in Boston had known about that procedure…”  He could not look up at his niece, who looked so very like his dear Elizabeth, so he stared into the fire again instead.
“Uncle Ben, don’t do this to yourself,” Josie said.  “That doctor probably did know about cesarean sections, but it wouldn’t have saved Aunt Elizabeth.  Her illness had weakened her too much to even carry Adam to term.  She never would have survived the procedure.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just saying that to make your old uncle feel better?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben apologized.

Josie rose quietly and slipped into the kitchen where she heated up some milk on the stove, which was still hot from all the water Little Joe had boiled earlier that evening.  She poured the milk into two mugs, dusted the top of each with a bit of cinnamon, and took them into the living room, where she handed one to Ben.  He thanked her, and uncle and niece sat quietly, sipping their milk and watching the fire sputter.  When they finished their drinks, Josie took the mugs back to the kitchen and set them in the sink and then returned to the living room and bid her uncle goodnight.  Ben stood and hugged her.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head.  “And not just for what you did tonight.  I don’t know how the boys and I ever got along without you.”

Josie smiled, though her face was hidden by the front of Ben’s dressing gown.  “Thanks,” she said, her words slightly muffled by the fabric.
Ben kissed the top of her head.  “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Uncle Ben.”  Josie released her uncle and hopped up the stairs.  As she made the left-hand turn on the landing halfway up, she saw Ben sit back down in his armchair to finish watching the fire die, and she suddenly missed her father terribly.

******

            Ellie Jenkins and her baby stayed at the Ponderosa for five days until Josie felt confident that her incision was healing well and would not become infected.  As the Cartwrights helped Isaiah get Ellie settled in their wagon for the ride home, Ben asked the couple if they had decided what to name their little girl.

            “We sure have,” Ellie said, her face beaming.

            “Well?  What’s the name?” Ben asked.

            Ellie looked proudly over at her husband, who puffed out his chest and announced, “We’ve named her ‘Josephine Elizabeth’ after the doctor who saved her ma’s life.”

            “Hey, how about that!” Hoss said, his eyes sparkling.

            Josie blushed deeply.  “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” she sputtered. 

            “Course it is!” Isaiah exclaimed, looking slightly hurt.  “Why, my Ellie would have died if it weren’t for you.”

            Recovering her manners, Josie grasped Isaiah’s hand warmly.  “I’m honored,” she said, her hazel eyes glistening.  “Thank you for your faith in me.”

            Isaiah patted her hand, bid goodbye to the Cartwrights, and took his wife and new baby home.

            “How do you like that, Josie?!” Little Joe crowed.  “You got yourself a baby named after you!”

            “Yeah, I hope we don’t get the two of you mixed up,” Hoss ribbed.

            “With all the red hair that baby’s got, I don’t think that’s too likely, Hoss,” Adam said, tugging playfully on a lock of Josie’s raven hair.

            “Thank goodness for small mercies,” Josie quipped.  The men laughed, and the family went back into the warmth of their home.

******

            Their guests gone, the Cartwrights could begin preparing for their Christmas party that Saturday.  Josie rode out with Ben to collect some pine boughs for decorating, while Adam accompanied Hoss and Little Joe to ensure they selected a tree of appropriate size this year.  Josie and Ben returned home well before the others, and they enjoyed hanging the pine boughs without Adam’s nagging about aligning them symmetrically.

            It was suppertime when the three brothers returned with the tree, so they set it up next to the fireplace and left it there untrimmed while they ate their meal.  Afterward, the Cartwrights returned to their Christmas tree and sang carols as they decorated it.  When they finished putting on the ornaments and candles, Hoss and Josie climbed to the staircase landing to attach the star like they had done the previous year.  Josie clambered up onto Hoss’s shoulders and leaned over the railing to place the star at the top of the tree.  As her face drew near the tree, however, she caught a glimpse through the branches and saw a pair of beady black eyes staring back at her.  Josie let loose a bloodcurdling scream and scrambled off of Hoss’s shoulders and clung to his back so he was between her and the tree, nearly knocking him over the staircase railing in the process.

            The three Cartwrights on the ground, along with Pip, charged up the stairs toward Hoss and Josie, who was pointing toward the tree with the star still in her hand and sputtering nonsense. 

            Adam reached her first.  “Josie!” he cried.  “What is it?  What’s wrong?”  He pried her off of Hoss’s back and set her on her feet on the landing.

            “EYES!” Josie shrieked, still pointing toward the tree.  “There are eyes in the tree!”

            The Cartwright men exchanged puzzled looks.

            “Can’t be no ice left in this tree, Josie,” Hoss said as he rubbed at the fingernail marks Josie had left in his shoulders.  “It’s been in the house for hours.”

            Josie stared at him in bewilderment for a moment.  “Not ice!” she exclaimed when she figured out Hoss’s mistake.  “Eyes!  EYES!” she pointed wildly at her own eyes, nearly poking one out with the sharp tip of the Christmas tree star.

            “Eyes?” Adam asked, still confused.

            “YES!” Josie shouted, thoroughly frustrated.  “That’s what I said!  EYES!”

            Ben and Adam exchanged a skeptical glance, but Ben stepped forward to inspect the tree anyway.  He leaned over the railing and tentatively pushed aside some of the branches.  He hollered in surprise and jumped backward, landing on Hoss’s foot, as a squalling brown-and-black blur flew out of the tree and took off up the stairs and down the second-floor hallway.

            The room erupted into chaos.  Barking madly, Pip tore off down the hallway after the raccoon.  Each of the five Cartwrights started shouting orders at the other four, but all they succeeded in doing was tripping each other and falling into a precarious heap on the landing.

            “What is it?  What is it?” Little Joe shouted.

            “It’s a raccoon!” Ben shouted back.  “Quick!  Catch it before Pip rips the bedrooms apart!”

            Adam and Hoss disentangled themselves from the family pile and ran upstairs to the bedrooms while Little Joe ran downstairs and grabbed his gun off the sideboard.  Ben sat up and rubbed his forehead where someone – he never would figure out who – had elbowed him as they all fell.  Josie, meanwhile, was hopping from foot to foot yelling “Get it!  Get it!  Get it!” to her cousins.  Hearing the commotion from the great room and thinking there was real danger, Hop Sing charged out of the kitchen, brandishing his cast-iron skillet like a club.

            “Hop Sing help!  Hop Sing help!” he shouted as he raced up the stairs, leaping neatly over his employer, who was still sitting, dazed, on the floor.  The cook dashed down the hall to where Pip, Adam, and Hoss were creating a horrible racket in Little Joe’s bedroom.

            “Don’t let that raccoon in my bed!” Joe yelled as he, too, leapt over his father and ran, gun in hand, into his bedroom.

            “Joseph!” Ben thundered in alarm.  “Don’t fire that gun in the house!”

            He was too late.  The resounding blast of Little Joe’s .44 nearly deafened everyone.

            “You idiot!” Adam screeched over Pip’s barking.  “You’ll kill us all!”  Ben and Josie heard a scuffle from the bedroom as Adam wrestled the revolver from his youngest brother’s hand.

            “It’s getting away!” Hoss bellowed.

            The terrified raccoon shot out of Little Joe’s room and raced down the stairs.  Josie screamed again as it scrambled over her feet.  Pip led the pack as he, Adam, Hoss, Hop Sing, and Little Joe followed closely behind the animal, all four of the humans squawking different plans to one another.

            “Corner him!  Corner him behind Pa’s desk!”

            “No, get him into the kitchen!  We can close the door!”

            “Shoot it!  Shoot it!”

            “Open door!  Open door!  Hop Sing get bloom!  Sweep him out of house!”

            Deciding Hop Sing had the safest plan, Josie leapt down the stairs and opened the front door, ignoring the blast of icy air that rushed in and struck her.  Hop Sing flew into the kitchen, exchanged his skillet for his straw broom, and dashed back into the great room, where the brothers and Pip had, in fact, managed to corner the growling, snarling raccoon behind Ben’s desk.  Working together at last, they made a human-and-canine wall to prevent the animal from darting back into the main part of the house while Hop Sing used his broom to shuffle the raccoon across the living room and out the front door, Pip growling all the while.  Adam and Hoss slammed the door shut, then turned and slid slowly down it to sit on the floor, their chests heaving.  Pip trotted over to them and began bathing Hoss’s face, while Adam reached one hand up and plunked Little Joe’s revolver onto the sideboard. 

            “Well!” he panted.  “That was… an adventure.”

            By this time, Ben had regained his feet, dusted himself off, and now made his way toward his youngest son.

            “Joseph Francis Cartwright!” he roared.

            Little Joe tried to cower behind Josie, but she reached behind her, grabbed the front of his shirt, and dragged him out in front of his father.  Adam and Hoss grinned at each other and stepped into the living room to get a better view of the show.

            “Hey, Pa,” Little Joe said in a small voice.

            “’Hey, Pa!’” Ben echoed sarcastically.  “For twenty years I have worked to instill a sense of responsibility in you, and one raccoon gets in the house and everything I’ve taught you goes slap out of your head!  What in the world were you thinking, firing your gun in the house?!  You could have killed someone!”

            Little Joe hung his head like a little boy.  “I’m sorry, Pa,” he mumbled.

            Ben grunted, his countenance losing some of its sternness.  “I should hope so,” he grumbled.  “You pull a foolish act like that again, and I’ll turn you out into the snow.”

            “Yes, sir,” Joe replied.

            “All right, then,” Ben said.  “Now, let’s get that star on top of the tree and hope we don’t have any more unexpected visitors.”

            The remainder of the decorating went off without the appearance of additional wildlife.  When they were all finished, Josie helped Hop Sing make some hot chocolate, and then she snuggled up on the settee next to Adam as he read “A Christmas Carol.”

******

            The Christmas party three days later was the largest the Ponderosa had ever hosted.  After the influenza epidemic, the townspeople felt closer than ever before and were eager to come together to celebrate the holiday.  There was sadness, too, though, as everyone felt the absence of those who had died.  When Patience and Sally arrived, Josie pulled them into a tight hug.  Their quartet was now reduced to a trio, and three survivors missed Margaret terribly.

            As the applejack and rum punch began to flow and the band began to play, however, everyone’s spirits lifted.  The guests roared with laughter as Adam and Josie regaled them with the tale of the raccoon in the Christmas tree, and several couples were surprised to discover they were standing under a sprig of mistletoe Little Joe had hung from the ceiling near the dining room, though Simon was less than pleased when Joe kissed his younger sister.  He stamped over to them and pulled Rebecca away from Little Joe, giving his friend a scathing glare.  Adam laughed as he watched the scene from across the room.

            “Yeah, how do you like it?” he muttered under his breath.

            While Adam basked in his Schadenfreude, Dr. Paul Martin approached Josie and congratulated her on her successful cesarean section.

            “I have to say, Josie,” he told her, “I wouldn’t have attempted it, but I’m certainly glad you did.”

            “Thank you!” Josie said, beaming at the compliment.  “I was terrified!”

            “I want all the details the next time you come into the clinic,” he said.

            Josie promised to give him a full report, and then went off to dance with Ben.

Just as Josie and Ben finished off a lively dance, they heard a familiar voice resounding from the front door.

            “Why, ‘ello, Ducky!” Widow Hawkins practically sang as she swept grandly into the house.  “Oh, it’s so lovely to be ‘ere in your ‘ome!” 

            Ben’s jaw dropped.  He quickly gathered his niece and sons around him.  “All right, who invited Widow Hawkins?” he demanded quietly.

            “Now, Pa, that’s a downright unneighborly thing to say,” Hoss chastised.

            “Why do you say that, Hoss?” Ben asked suspiciously.  “Did you invite her?”

            “Course not, Pa, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

            “Adam?” Ben asked.

            “Don’t look at me, Pa.  She’d be happy to sink her claws into me, too.”

            “Joe?”

            “Pa, I avoid her whole end of town,” Little Joe insisted.

            Four sets of eyes turned to Josie, who tried unsuccessfully to shrink into the floor.

            “It… It didn’t seem right not to invite her,” Josie said in a tiny voice.  “After all she did to help during the epidemic, opening her boardinghouse and all, and she sent a dish when Adam came home…” she trailed off weakly.

            Ben sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward.  “You’re right, Josephine,” he admitted.  “She certainly has been a good friend this year.  I guess I better go and greet her.”  He turned to head over to the widow.

            “Pa!” Little Joe cried in alarm.

            Ben looked back over his shoulder.

            “Watch out for the mistletoe!”  Little Joe pointed at the sprig of berries hanging near the dining room.

            “Oh, goodness gracious,” Ben muttered as he went to greet their latest arrival.

            Widow Hawkins was pleased to pieces to see Ben Cartwright approach.

            “Oh, Ducky, ‘appy Christmas!” she cheered.  Ben moved to shake her hand, but the widow got right in his face and kissed his cheek.  “It’s so good to see you and under ‘appier circumstances.  Why, when your Adam showed up at my boardinghouse during the epidemic, I was so frightened ‘ee’d take ill.
”
            “Well, Josie was there, too-“ Ben began, but the widow cut him off.

            “And the way ‘ee ‘elped that little girl, why, me ‘eart just soared!  I said to myself, ‘Clementine,’ I said, ‘Now there’s a young man ‘oo’s been raised right, ‘ee ‘as!’ and I so wanted to see you again.”

            “Oh, well, that’s very kind-“

            “So when the good doctor – that’s what we all calls ‘er now, your niece – when the good doctor invited me ‘ere to the Ponderosa, why I just knew I ‘ad to come.”

            “We’re delighted you could make i-“

            “Well, now, Benjamin Cartwright, are you going to stand around all night talking, or are you going to introduce me to your other guests?”  She linked her arm through Ben’s and gestured impatiently toward the living room.  Ben had no choice but to escort her in, though he was careful to give the mistletoe a very, very wide berth.  Ben stuck with the widow for a quarter of an hour to avoid seeming impolite, but he passed her off on Sheriff Coffee at his first opportunity. 

            Simon and Josie spent a good portion of the party catching up.  Due to the epidemic, they had seen little of each other since Josie’s birthday, and Simon expressed relief that Josie had made it through the epidemic without getting ill.

            “I was really worried about you,” he said, tucking a lock of hair that had come loose from Josie’s chignon behind her ear.  Josie smiled warmly at him.

            “We Cartwrights are a tough bunch,” she said.

            “I can see that,” Simon said, noticing Adam keeping a close watch on them from across the room.  “Come on, Josie, let’s dance.”  He grabbed her hand and led her to the center of the living room.

            Simon and Josie danced song after song, pausing only long enough to occasionally grab another cup of punch or to laugh at Ben and Adam as they tried to avoid being cornered by Widow Hawkins.  Adam fared better than Ben did in this endeavor.  By the final number when Adam cut in on Simon to dance with Josie, Ben had spent most of the evening dancing with Widow Hawkins who, much to Ben’s embarrassment, loudly announced to all the guests how grand it was to be in the arms of a big, strong man again.

            At the end of the evening, as Ben and the Cartwright brothers headed outside to bid their guests farewell, Josie told Simon to wait a moment.

            “I have something for you,” she said.  Simon’s eyes lit up as Josie scampered over the Christmas tree and pulled a small tin container from under it.  “It’s not much,” she apologized as she handed it to him.

            Simon carefully opened the tin, revealing a dozen miniature minced pies.  “Thank you!” he said happily.  “Did you make these?”

            “Yes,” Josie said, suddenly shy.  “It’s my mother’s recipe.”

            “I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” Simon said as he replaced the tin’s lid.  “I’ll have to hide them from Pa, though, or I won’t get any!”  He grinned at Josie, who smiled back.  Then something caught his eye, and he looked up.  “Oh,” he said, blushing.

            “What is it?” Josie asked.

            Simon cleared his throat.  “We’re, uh, we’re standing under the mistletoe.”

            Josie looked up.  Simon was right.  They were directly under Little Joe’s mistletoe.  “You better check it,” Josie said.  “The plants my cousins bring inside tend to be full of wildlife.”

            Simon laughed and gazed at Josie, who stared back, a coy smile flitting about her lips.  Simon set the tin of pies on the floor next to his feet and took Josie’s face gently in his hands.  He leaned toward her, and this time she did not turn away.  Josie felt a little shiver shoot down her spine as their lips met, and she wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck.  When Simon finally drew back from the kiss, he rested his forehead against Josie’s.

            “Merry Christmas, Josie,” he whispered.

            “Merry Christmas, Simon,” she replied.

            They stayed thus for several long moments until they heard a throat clearing loudly from just behind Simon.  Josie and Simon jumped apart, and Simon experienced a brief, yet terrible, moment in which he was certain Adam was about to murder him.

            “Your folks is leavin’, Simon,” Hoss said, and Simon breathed a sigh of relief.

            “Thanks, Hoss,” he said, smiling again at Josie, who giggled.  He took Josie’s hand and kissed her cheek.  “Goodnight, Josie.”

            “Goodnight.”

            Simon grabbed his tin of pies and made a hasty exit, leaving Josie standing beneath the mistletoe, her face glowing.

            “Nice party this year,” Hoss observed slyly.

            “Yes,” Josie agreed.  “Yes it was.”  Hoss nudged her in the ribs, making Josie giggle as Adam came back inside.

            “What a good party!” he exclaimed.  “Did you see the look on Simon’s face when Little Joe kissed Rebecca?”  He laughed delightedly.

            “Yes,” Josie said, biting back a smile.  “He was furious.”

            “Yeah,” Hoss agreed.  “I can’t even imagine how angry you’d be if you caught someone kissin’ Josie.”  He and Josie broke into giggles, and Adam eyed them suspiciously.

            “Yeeessss,” he said slowly, thinking Josie and Hoss had drunk too much punch.  “Anyway, we should start cleaning up.”

            Josie was only too happy to distract Adam from the subject of kissing and dived cheerfully into the cleanup, leaving Adam none the wiser.

            When Christmas morning rolled around five days later, Hoss and Little Joe had the good sense not to try to wake Josie up at four-fifteen again, and they let the family sleep all the way to five-thirty.  Everyone was delighted with their gifts – Adam especially enjoyed the set of ebony chessmen from his father, and even Pip seemed pleased with the leather collar Josie had bought for him – but it was Adam’s gift to Josie that stole the show that morning.  After all the other presents had been opened, Adam handed Josie a large rolled-up piece of thick paper.

            “Oh, just what I’ve always wanted,” Josie said wryly.  “Parchment.”

            “Unroll it, silly,” Adam urged.

            Staring suspiciously at Adam, Josie pulled the string off the paper and unrolled it on her lap.  She immediately recognized the technical drawing as a blueprint, but it took her a moment to realize what it was a blueprint for.  Finally, she noticed the title at the top of the page: “Josie’s Clinic.” 

            “I don’t understand,” she sputtered, even as understanding descended upon her.

            Adam grinned.  “Pa and I decided it’s high time you had a proper clinic here,” he said.  “Especially after you delivered Ellie Jenkins’ baby in the guestroom.  You can’t drag all your patients over to the old bunkhouse, especially if they have to come here first to find you.  We’re gonna build this new clinic just a quarter mile down from our barn.  You’ll be on the main road but also close to the house if you need anything.”

            “The plans and the labor are your gift from Adam,” Ben said.  “The materials are your gift from me.  Merry Christmas, Josephine.”  He smiled warmly at his niece.

            “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to start building until the spring thaw,” Adam said apologetically.  “But it’s a pretty basic frame building, so it should go up quickly.  I have a couple men in mind who will probably help me out.”

            “Thank you,” Josie whispered, still staring at the blueprint.  Then the reality of what she was looking at sank all the way in, and she leapt from her seat and squealed with excitement.  “Thank you!” she shrieked, throwing her arms around Adam and Ben at the same time.  “I can’t wait to write to Papa and tell him!  My own clinic!”

            That was the moment Josie decided she would never return to the East.  She was a Cartwright on the Ponderosa, and that was where she would stay.