The Choice
Roy Coffee polished his spectacles. He polished them carefully, not because he was afraid of breaking them, but because he had already read the cablegram that had been placed on the desk before him. He now wanted to pay particular attention to some pertinent facts contained within it. His initial scan of the information had made him aware of the need for greater concentration.
The spectacles gradually slipped slowly down the bridge of his nose as he slowly read each word. The creases on his brow deepened. His lips became more pursed. Finally he came to the end of his reading. He continued to stare at the slip of paper in his hands for a moment or two more. Then he sighed deeply and folded it away. With a calm deliberation he put it into a drawer, which he locked. He then put the key in his pocket and pushed himself away from the desk.
He picked up a mug of hot coffee that had been steaming on the stove. Then he walked out of the building and leaned against the post with it in his hands. Occasionally he sipped from the mug while his mind trickled back in time.
It was just over two years ago. Again the creases deepened in his brow. Just a day like today. Warm and sunny, with the people going back and forth as they always do. Roy sighed and sipped some more coffee.
“You look miles away?” Paul Martin observed as he came to a standstill in front of the sheriff.
“Wal, not miles exactly.” Roy replied gruffly, “Perhaps a year or two -.”
“I see. A trip down memory lane, huh?” Paul shifted his medical bag to his other hand and nodded, “Anything worth remembering that far back?”
“I guess some -.” Roy allowed a small smile to flicker across his mouth, just discernible beneath the moustache. “Recall the time when the Fabian Gang decided to make Virginia City their bolt hole?”
Paul nodded thoughtfully, “What brought them back to mind?”
“I jest received a cablegram from The Governor of the Yuma Territorial Prison.”
“Oh?”
“Seems the systems run out of patience with ‘em. No more appeals and no more wasting time. Amos and Aaron Fabian are to be hanged in a week’s time.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Paul thought back to when Amos and Aaron were on trial over two years previously. To the people of Virginia City their sentence was perfectly justified. The sooner it could have been carried out the better. Sadly, the judicial system got in the way and, with help from some unknown patron with a lot of money, the two brothers had been able to eke out two more years of life.
“Wal, I suppose it is.”
“You sound a little upset, Roy.”
“Upset?” Roy’s eyes widened as though he were amazed anyone could have accused him of being upset. “Upset that rubbish like them are getting their just desserts at last? If’n I’m upset at all, it’s that they were able to keep from hanging fer so long.”
He glared down at the dregs of coffee in his mug before casting them onto the ground. Paul watched as the lawman returned to his office. For a second or two he stood in the bright sunlight wondering what to do next. Finally, he made up his mind and mounted the steps up to the boardwalk, and entered the building.
Paul dragged out a chair opposite the sheriff, and sat down. He placed his hat and the bulky black medical bag down by his side. “So what really is eating at you? Something more important?”
Roy twiddled with a pencil. He rolled it round and round between his fingers before tossing it down onto the blotter. He looked at Paul, and his moustache bristled. “Remember what happened back then? Those two brothers, their father and four other men came through our town as though they owned it. They terrorized the folk here. They commandeered the stores. Anyone who tried to get in their way met with unpleasant accidents.”
“I know. I remember. Some of those accidents turned out to be fatal.”
“It was a time of pure terror. They held this town to ransom and…,” Roy paused and picked up the pencil again, “I failed them all.”
“Is that what’s eating at you?”
“No man likes to admit to failure. I failed this town. It was the first time I ever felt they were justified in taking this badge from me.” Roy touched the star pinned to his shirt with something like reverence. It was akin to a woman caressing her baby, so much could be read in the simple gesture.
“No one asked for it though, did they?”
“I know that, Paul. But I felt it all the same. If it had not been for Ben and his sons, things would have gone from bad to worse.” Roy shook his head. “I should have gotten help from the military before it had deteriorated so much.”
“We can all be wise after the event, with hindsight, Roy. I don’t think you have to blame yourself for what happened. Jethro Fabian and his two boys, along with those men of theirs, were like a whirlwind when they hit town. Nothing you or anyone else could have done could prevent what happened.”
“Fact that it’s taken two years to get that sentence passed galls me some. They killed decent folk here, Paul, and for two years they’ve managed to twist the law to how they wanted.”
“The main thing to remember, Roy,” Paul got to his feet slowly, and looked down at the sheriff, “is they won’t have evaded justice in the end. Jethro died in the gutter as he deserved, and his two sons will hang for what they did.”
“And what about little Betty and John Powers? Will it bring them back to life? Will it comfort their mother? When they set that explosive off in the bank, they didn’t care who was around to get the full blast of it and those two children died just –,” Roy swallowed the lump in his throat, “just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“They weren’t the only ones, Roy. Others suffered. Don’t take it to heart, old friend; it’s over. When those boys hang, you can draw a line under it.” Paul picked up his hat. “It’ll be finished.”
“Not for some, Paul. Greta Powers will never forget and when I see her, I know she remembers that I let her kids down.”
Paul shook his head and put a firm, but gentle, hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Roy, I don’t think anyone, let alone Mrs. Powers, thinks you let them down. Give them credit for that, and give yourself credit too; you saved more lives by your actions than you lost. We all know that, believe me.”
Roy nodded slowly, but Paul knew that his words were having as much effect on the man as they would have done had they been addressed to a brick wall. He sighed, bade Roy farewell, and left the building, closing the door firmly behind him.
Once again Roy was alone. He tilted back the chair, stretched out his legs and thought back two years when the Fabian family and their cohorts had ridden into town.
They had not ridden in with guns blazing and raising a riot. It had not been that obvious. That had been the real crux of the matter. The Fabian family came in the guise of businessmen and booked into the best hotel in town. They were smartly dressed, polite, civil folk and they attended church on the Sunday The rest of their gang, for want of another word, rode in with quiet nonchalance. They moved into a boarding house. No one even realized the connection between them.
The thing that made Roy cringe was that he had got on well with the Fabians. They had befriended him, made much of him. Yet all the time they were squeezing the people of the town dry from fear and terror. Fear of the unknown paralyzes people. Roy saw how the people’s confidence and trust in him, and in the Town Council, slowly evaporated away. The people began to turn to Fabian for advice, for support. It had all happened in such a short space of time, a frighteningly short space of time.
Yet, later they were to realize that in reality, it had taken far longer. Over the course of the preceding year, Jethro Fabian had garnered shares in various properties and businesses in Virginia City. He had done nothing illegal in that, but like a big black spider, he had sat in his office back East and spun a web that had entrapped the majority of citizens in Virginia City.
It had not mattered whether it were a large or small concern, a ranch or a homestead, a mine or a store. When he arrived in town he began to flex his muscles, in a very pleasant manner, so that slowly the town woke up to realize that Jethro Fabian owned them, lock, stock and barrel. But from Jethro there was still no hint of the ruthlessness that had been involved in the obtaining of this purpose. Indeed, to many of the townspeople, it seemed to have made as much impression as another droplet in a bucketful of water.
He had been so charming about it all. He and his sons had smiled and feted them, gone to church with them and socialized with them. It was when he met with some resistance that the smiles slipped and the charm disappeared.
Not that the people were aware of that, for the masks remained firmly in place. Whilst the Fabians continued in their pretence, the men they had hired to carry out the less salubrious tasks would be ordered into action. These men, so pleasant and convivial in their surface dealings with the town, now set aside their quiet demeanor with the casual ease of slipping off an outer garment. They burned down outbuildings, ripped down merchandise from the store shelves, killed cattle and terrorized the women. Always in the darkness of the night, always dressed to blend into the shadows from which they lacked the courage to emerge. Then they had returned to the boarding house and resumed their docile front, and Roy had been totally powerless to arrest any of them. Somehow or other, alibi’s were provided that were rock solid in appearance. Nothing changed, except to get worse.
Still the connection between the two factions remained unknown. It may have been suspected by some. Ben Cartwright and his sons had voiced such an opinion but they had been dismissed as envious and jealous of Fabians influence in town. Had the townsfolk, had Roy, only realized how real those fears actually were a lot of things would have been so different.
Why had Fabian not just rampaged through town and shot the place up and gone? Why all those months and weeks of scheming and moving things about like chess pieces? Roy had been particularly dismayed when the truth exploded in their faces on that bright morning two years ago. Who could have believed that Jethro and his sons could have been involved, even responsible for the actions of the men in their employ during the brief months they had been in town?
Getting everyone to trust him enough to put their money into one bank, with supplies of gold bullion, had been Fabian’s main aim. If Fabian had planned a more subtle, more cunning means of removing the gold from the bank, perhaps things would have ended more tidily. Stolen gold bullion is a loss but it could be replaced in time. Lives, particularly those of children and honest citizens, could not.
Roy just felt that the whole matter involving Fabian and his gang had been so ambiguous. He had not been an honest upright thief who went about his bank robberies and thuggeries with everyone fully aware of who he was and what he was doing. He had done everything in concealment and with devious plotting. He had sidled his way into the town’s affections whilst at the same time laughing at them for their trust and enjoying the misery he was putting them through by means of the men he employed to do his dirty work for him.
Roy also felt that had Fabian succeeded in removing the gold bullion with some master stroke of genius that had left no one hurt – except for pride and pockets – then he would have grudgingly admired him. Instead he threw everything away in a stupid bank raid that had lost him his life, his sons their freedom. There had been the tragic loss of the children and several townsfolk.
Horrible. Roy shook his head again at the memory of that afternoon. He had been sitting in the sunlight and actually acknowledged Fabian with a wave of the hand as Jethro and his sons had entered the building. He had seen the children skipping, laughing and chattering, along the boardwalk. He had waved to Mrs. Powers. Then the front of the building had bulged into a chaotic mass of flying bricks, glass, flames.
Thick black smoke had engulfed the area and Roy had pulled out his gun not knowing who to fire upon. Ben and the boys had been riding down the main street at the time and had disappeared into the black cloud. There had been sounds of shooting.
It had all been a mess. Roy groaned now at the memory and ran his fingers through his scant hair. He wished he had not received that cablegram. He wished he had not been forced to remember his feelings after that raid. He wanted to turn the clock back and forget that he had ever been in town that day.
“You shot Jethro,” he had accused Ben Cartwright as he had knelt by the man’s dead body, “Ben, how could you? What about his boys?”
“Best arrest them,” Little Joe had said smugly, pushing Amos forward.
Roy felt a trickle of shame run down his spine at the memory. He had been prepared to arrest Ben for killing Jethro in the gunfight. He had been ready to defend the dead man against those who had been friends for years. That was what niggled him most: he had been duped.
“I don’t understand why they did it like that,” he had declared in his office later. “Why end it all in such a stupid careless bank raid like that one? He had the power to dispose of that gold anyway he wanted...”
“He was just plain evil, Roy,” Ben had said quietly as he had sat facing him across the desk. “Some men just enjoy the power they get from seeing people suffering, and get extra pleasure when they are turned to for help. Then suddenly they want the power of a grand gesture – to fling off the mask and reveal the real person beneath it.”
“You mean, they were toying with us all along?” Carter from the Town Council lamented.
“Enjoying every second,” Adam Cartwright had replied with his dark eyes expressing his disgust and contempt.
But, even now, Roy had been unable to explain it to himself in any way that would give him peace of mind. He could only remember that he had been fooled, and that innocents had died as a result.
***********
The stagecoach rocked to a standstill. Pete clambered down and quickly placed the steps by the door and pulled the door open. His passengers slowly stepped down. A fat man with bulging chins and over-tight pants stood on the boardwalk and blinked in the sunlight before picking up his valise, which was thin and sagged.
.
A young woman stepped down with a pretty smile to Pete. She paused a second to fluff up her hair beneath the slightly awry bonnet, then she turned and made her way to the Salem’s Boarding House.
Catherine Fabian ignored the proffered and grimy hand of the old man. She stepped down onto the boardwalk and looked about her with her dark eyes taking in every detail. She noticed the shabbiness of the exterior of the Stagecoach Depot and how notices were yellowing and flapping in the slight breeze. She saw the expensive store fronts of the Gentleman’s Outfitters and the Ladies Garments standing side by side opposite with their glazed windows gleaming in the sunlight.
There was a lot to see, but she took note of everything within seconds. Without a word, she began to walk to the Hotel Internationale while behind her a younger woman struggled with bags, baggage and an inability to keep up her mistress’ pace.
Catherine Fabian was approaching sixty years of age. She looked ten years younger. Her eyes were dark hazel brown, long lashed and as clear and luminous as a young woman’s. The skin around them was remarkably free from the deeper lines associated with a woman of her years. She had strong features and was not beautiful. She had, however, something more attractive than beauty. She had what many referred to as ‘presence’.
Tall, thin, with a long neck that seemed too fragile for the strong features of the face and the luxurious amount of hair that it had to support. Her hands were thin and long, the fingers emphasized with the rings that gleamed on them. A gold wedding band was barely noticeable amongst the diamonds, solely diamonds, which adorned each finger. Perhaps her hands had once been her most beautiful feature and were thus presented because of the pride she had in them. Apart from the rings, she wore no other adornment. Her style of dress was simple and plain. It was a French design, and every fold of it was proof of its expensive origins.
The maid, Melanie Howard, was simply dressed. She was a woman in her forties, robust and strong. She had served Mrs. Fabian for more years than she liked to remember. She had always been treated well. The chains of loyalty to her mistress were soft and silken. Sometimes she struggled like a butterfly pinned to a board to escape but it was at those times that the silken chains tightened and pulled her back. Loyalty, gratitude, and obligation were some of the links in that chain. She toiled along dutifully.
At the Internationale, Catherine signed the register with a bold black flourish. She chose to put down a false name for it was not her plan to advertise her presence, nor the reasons for it. She wrote down Catherine Ford. Melanie Howard scribbled down her name before picking up the bags and following her mistress up the stairs to the main suite.
The suite of rooms was large and well furnished. Catherine stood for some seconds in its center and looked about her as though surprised that something this attractive and suitable could have been found in such a place. She could hear Melanie taking everything into the other room and knew that it would not be long before her things would be unpacked and tidied away in the manner to which she was accustomed.
She walked over to one of the large windows that looked over the main street of the town and pulled aside the lace curtain that provided the occupant of the room some privacy, although from whom could not be ascertained as the hotel rooms were not overlooked. From her vantage point, she was able to view the Main Street of the town and beyond the mountains. Her face remained expressionless although she was thinking how different the view was to that of her home in Philadelphia. There she looked down upon lush gardens and trees. When she stepped outside her front door, a whole metropolis expanded out before her. Carriages and cabs and all manner of transport rolled along the smooth roads. She sighed; perhaps one day the advances of the modern age would actually reach this gold boom town.
A man stepped from a building onto the boardwalk, the sun shone upon the star pinned to his shirt and dazzled her eyes momentarily. Now she leaned forward to observe him more closely.
So, this was Sheriff Roy Coffee. She watched as he walked from his office to the corner of the block and after stepping from the boardwalk to the road, disappeared from her view round the corner. She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. He was older than she had thought, and his movements were slower. He looked like a man on his own, a man who needed taking in hand by a good woman who would make sure he was fed well and dressed smartly. In fact, she mused, he looked like he should have retired from the job years ago.
She heard the knock on the door, but did not move from her position at the window. Melanie’s footsteps indicated that she had also heard. There was the sound of the door opening and a gruff voice mumbling something along with the thuds of several heavy cases being loaded onto the floor. She did not need to turn to see who or what had arrived. It was the rest of her luggage from the stagecoach. There came the clink of some coins and the door closed. She continued her perusal from the window.
She watched as four horsemen rode into her line of vision. Instantly she leaned closer to the window to observe them. She watched as a young man on a black and white horse dismounted, and tethered his horse to the rail outside the saloon. He was talking animatedly to the others, his handsome face upturned towards them. He laughed, and the sound of his laughter floated skywards towards her. She estimated that he was in his early twenties, and she smiled as she watched him give them a wave of the hand and hurry into the saloon.
He was certainly a handsome boy. She could imagine the pleasure he must have given his mother when she were alive. Those large eyes, the thick curling hair, strong features and the slim lithe body with its golden tan. She could feel her heart beating faster and she pulled the curtain back a little further to watch the other three men.
They had turned their horses to cross diagonally to the hardware store. A strikingly handsome man, straight-backed with silver hair beneath the beige hat, led them over the road and was the first to dismount. A younger man with black clothing half turned, and glanced up at the hotel windows. Catherine instinctively stepped back, letting the curtain drift into place. She could see that this movement aroused some curiosity on his part, and although he said nothing, he sat in the saddle, his fingers touching the handle of his gun, and his eyes narrowed, fixed to the window.
The man dismounting by his side was somewhat of a Goliath in build. His tanned features, blue eyes and size a total contrast to the youth who had minutes earlier waved them a cheery adieu. Now he said something that drew his brother’s attention away from the hotel. They had an exchange of words that ended with a laugh, he threw back his head and she could see the laughter that creased his face making the eyes disappear in the folds of his cheeks. The man in black did not laugh, but he turned his horse and she could see the flash of white teeth against the dark skin in the broad smile on his face.
Her heart beat against her ribcage as she wondered if he were going to come to the hotel to find exactly who was behind the window. Her eyes followed him, and she relaxed as he dismounted outside the library.
For some seconds she stood still, her hands clasped together as though in prayer against her chest. The older man and the young man who was built like some giant had disappeared into the hardware store. There was no longer anything for her to see that was of interest, although she could have waited to watch them re-emerge had she so wished.
But she had seen all she wanted to see for the present. She knew exactly who the four men were and to have seen them so soon, so quickly upon her arrival in Virginia City, filled her with exultation. She walked towards her bedroom, where Melanie was hanging the gowns in the closet. Everything was working out very well. She dismissed the other woman who gathered up a small trunk containing her own possessions and retired to the smaller room.
For a while Catherine could hear the movements of her maid through the walls of the rooms. She sat down upon a high backed chair and pulled out a letter from her traveling writing case. She had lost count of how many times she had read this letter, but it gave her satisfaction to read it again. It gave her added satisfaction knowing that she had already found the five men so frequently referred to and so well described on the pages of that paper. Twice over she read it through and then folded it, slipped it back into its envelope before replacing it in her writing case.
Leaning back she closed her heavy lidded eyes. The chair was the perfect size into which her body could fit, making her feel warm and comfortable. Folding her hands within her lap, Catherine Fabian slipped into a pleasant slumber.
**********
“Dadburn it, Pa, if’n that ain’t the second time you’ve hauled me all the way inta town for nuthin’.” Hoss Cartwright’s scowl creased the smooth skin of his brow and crinkled his nose. He took off his hat and dashed it against his left leg before replacing it with a finality that emphasized his displeasure.
Ben merely laughed and slapped his son on his broad chest in a manner that was meant to be conciliatory. “Look, Hoss, why complain now? You didn’t really want to be checking out the fencing down the south pasture, did you?” Ben grinned as his son shook his head. “And you didn’t really want to be digging out the water holes, did you?” Hoss pursed his lips and emitted a low whistle before shaking his head, “Then why complain about coming into town? At least while we’re here, we can join Joe in a cold beer.”
“Are you paying?” Hoss narrowed his eyes and glanced suspiciously at his father.
“Well, if Joe’s in a good mood, perhaps neither of us need pay.” Ben’s mouth parted in yet another wide smile and Hoss nodded, the frown smoothed from his brow as without a word he ambled across the road by his father’s side.
Joe was chatting to two of the saloon girls when his father and brother entered the saloon. As though pulled by strings, both girls drifted away to lean up against some other young cowboy, leaving the table available for Joe’s family to join him. Joe grinned ruefully, and raised his eyebrows as though to warrant their sympathy rather than their censure. Ben pulled out a chair and sat down, taking off his hat and setting it down by his side. Hoss did likewise. They then looked calmly and for some seconds at Joe, who sighed and called over to Sam to get two more beers set up. “I thought you were going to be tied up at the hardware store for some time.”
“No, Pa made -,” Hoss began but Ben leaned forward, across Hoss so that Joe’s attention was taken from his brother and centered upon his father,
“We thought we would share some valuable time with you instead, Joseph,” Ben smiled while his dark eyes fixed upon the youth’s handsome face, “Thought a nice cold beer together would be very pleasant. Didn’t we, Hoss?”
“We did.” Hoss nodded emphatically and picked up the beer glass that Sam had set down by his elbow. “Mmmmm, de – lic – ious!”
“Yeah, it just needs Adam to walk in now and it’ll make it a real family celebration,” Joe grumbled.
“True, true.” Hoss grinned. “Ain’t often we get you to part with your money to buy us a round of drinks, is it, Pa?”
Joe leaned back in his seat with a grin, cradling his beer against his chest and looking at his brother and father affectionately. It was good to spend time together like this, at ease, in familiar friendly surroundings where even the smells made them feel at home. He caught Sally Anne’s eye and winked, and she sashayed off to drape herself over some hapless miner who was going to find himself out of pocket far sooner than he had imagined.
***********
Adam Cartwright strolled out of the library with a smug feeling of satisfaction. He had found two new poetry books by authors he had only recently discovered. With them tucked under his arm, he strolled thoughtfully down the boardwalk. Words and rhyme were somersaulting through his brain, snatches of poetry that he had known so well mingling with new phrases that he had just peeked at and intended to digest slowly and methodically at home.
“Adam?”
He stopped in mid-stride and turned to see Roy walking quickly across the road towards him. He smiled and nodded his greeting while waiting for the sheriff to reach his side.
“How’s things with you, Roy?” Adam gave the older man a wide smile, for he had an affection for this dignified lawman who had put his life on the line countless times for the citizens of this town. As Roy approached him, Adam recalled the time when the sheriff’s integrity had been called into question. Roy had said that he viewed the town as his family, and sometimes children in a family tended to get a mite unruly.
“Well, Adam, I wish I could say that I was feeling really good, but the fact of the matter is that I had some news this morning that kinda put a dampener on things.”
The two men were standing face to face and Adam could see by the set of Roy’s mouth and the far off look in his eyes that the older man had received significant news. He almost wished that he had remained ensconced safely in the library for a few more minutes, thus avoiding this confrontation.
“What happened? What was it about?” Adam narrowed his eyes to scan the rugged face before him, and saw the concern and guilt leap into the mild blue eyes.
“I had news from the prison where the Fabian brothers are being kept. They’re going to be hanged by the end of the week.”
Adam pursed his lips and frowned slightly. “But, that’s good news, isn’t it?”
“It means they can’t appeal no more, can’t delay the inevitable,” Roy agreed, and then sighed. “It should have been dealt with way back along.”
“True enough. They obviously had friends in high places who were prepared to throw good money after bad in keeping them alive.”
“Guess so.”
“What exactly is the problem, Roy?” Adam’s voice gentled a little and he put a hand out to touch the sheriff on the arm as an encouragement to him to speak out.
Roy scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. “Seems ever since I got that cable I had an itch that won’t go away. Kind of like troubles brewing and I can’t tell from what direction.”
It was mere instinct that caused Adam’s eyes to flick up to the window of the hotel. He scanned the whole row of windows that stared blankly back at him. Then he resumed his scrutiny of the sheriff. “Trouble has a habit of doing that, Roy. You should ask Joe about it; he’s always claiming that trouble just waits for him to fall into it or over it.”
“Sure, I kin see your point of view there.” Roy smiled thinly, and shook his head, “I keep feeling so guilty about what happened, Adam. I walked plumb straight into Fabian’s trap, trusted him and disbelieved all of you. Had I been –,” He paused when Adam held up a hand to stop him, but then pressed relentlessly onwards. “No good trying to stop me, son; it’s something I gotta live with, the consequences of trusting someone and causing innocents to die.”
“Look, Roy, I know confession is good for the soul, and everything, but there’s no need for you to keep beating yourself so much about what happened two years ago. Everyone who lives west, where the gun rules, has to accept that things happen beyond our control at times. With the best will in the world, nothing could have prevented what happened.”
“You’re wrong, Adam, although I appreciate your saying that, but I know if’n I’d listened to you and your Pa, things would have been different.” It was now his turn to place a hand gently on Adam’s arm. “Thanks anyhow, Adam. I’ll see you sometime?”
“Sure, Roy, sure you will.”
Adam glanced over his shoulder to watch the sheriff walk slowly back to his office, then with a sigh, he resumed his way to the saloon.
So at long last justice had caught up with the Fabian brothers. Adam chewed on the inside of his cheek at the thought. Justice had been a long time in coming. Hanging was to be carried out at the end of the week, well, that would be clean and swift. He frowned as he remembered the time he had first met the Fabians. There had been a natural, quite instinctive, antipathy towards them. When people spoke about them in such glowing terms, he had questioned himself as to why he had such a strong negative attitude against them. Even his father had admired Jethro Fabian for being a very astute businessman and charming man. Joe and Hoss had seemed to find the two brothers, Amos and Aaron, enjoyable drinking companions. He had stepped back, feeling angry at them for not seeing, what was to him, quite obvious.
But then, in all honesty, had it been so obvious? For them to have fooled the whole town, to have had these people eating out of their hands? There was the matter of the other men too, who had gone about carrying out Jethro’s dirty work with a silent deliberation that was spine-chilling in its way. Briefly, Adam wondered what had happened to them. After the bank raid, with everyone running about like headless chickens, they had seemed to melt away. Their exit from town had obviously been predetermined, no matter what the outcome of the bank raid.
Going even further back in his memories of that time, Adam recalled the evening when Ben came home in a disgruntled mood. For some hours, he had sat puffing at his pipe like an express train. Smoke had become an almost dangerous issue when he stood up and said very calmly, “There’s something wrong with Fabian. He’s not honest.”
“Why do you say that, Pa?” Hoss had asked, looking up from whittling.
“I was with him and his boys today, and we were discussing some venture concerning the Lazy S mine. Kelly Peters was there, of course, as he was the owner of the mine. Well, something was going on behind the scenes that I am unaware of right now, but I saw Jethro and his boys look at one another – ,” Ben paused and sucked on the stem of his pipe for a second or two. “It’s odd. It was a bare second. I could even have imagined it for it was that brief. The thing is, though, that it changed my feelings about them, and no matter how I try, I can’t feel anything but suspicious and untrusting towards ‘em.”
“Aaron and Amos aren’t such gentlemen as we thought they were either,” Hoss said slowly, bringing his knife down cleanly across the piece of wood that he was whittling, “Once or twice they’ve said something that didn’t ring true. I tried to ignore it, but Joe mentioned something to me the other day, and I realized he’d noticed it too.”
“They’ve only been hereabouts for a short time, yet they know everything about everybody, and they own or partly own almost everything,” Joe said quietly. “It’s like some kind of machine rolled into town and has taken a bite out of everything.”
Hoss grinned at the picture Joe’s words had conjured up, but Ben nodded slowly as though it made sense, which, in a way, it certainly did.
“They never hid the fact that they were wealthy and had been buying stock in properties here when still in Philadelphia,” Ben said. “Business acumen isn’t a sin.”
“But isn’t it rather strange that so many homesteaders are being harassed to sell? The smaller miners are being forced to sell up or be shot? Isn’t it too much of a co-incidence that these things are happening now, since the Fabians arrived in town?” Adam suggested, setting down the book he had been reading onto the coffee table, in order to pay closer attention to the discussion.
“There’s never anything to tie them in with those events,” Ben replied. “I’ve asked Roy, and he said that they’re clean.”
“I don’t think they are,” Adam muttered darkly.
“You never have, though.” Joe replied, his eyebrows shooting up sharply. “You always kept hinting at them being something other than they are.”
“Fact is, no one knows exactly who or what they are,” Hoss added sagely. “We could be barking up the wrong tree altogether, just because we’ve taken agin ‘em.”
“What about the suggestions they’ve been making about everyone taking out their funds from their accounts and just settling it into the First National? Don’t you find that disconcerting?” Adam looked at his father, his lips thin. It was obvious that, as far as he was concerned, any money he had in any account was staying right where it had always been.
“I don’t like the idea. I told Jethro that it was too dangerous. You don’t put all your eggs in one basket…” Ben frowned, “unless there is only one bank in town, of course. He just said it was a once in the lifetime occurrence, nothing more.”
“Then why is he making it sound so attractive to everyone?” Joe asked, perching on the arm of the red leather chair and picking up an apple. He surveyed it thoughtfully, as though fully expecting some worm to peek back at him.
“That’s the worry,” Ben sighed. “Everyone seems mighty happy to oblige them.”
“Well, some folk are born with the ability to sell snow to Eskimos,” Adam said quietly. “There’s no doubting that the Fabians’ all have that gift in spades!”
***********
Adam paused now as he approached the First National Bank. It stood squarely across the road from him and looked vastly different to that day two years ago. What a crazy, foolhardy plan it had been though. Even now he wondered what had possessed the Fabians to actually take part in the raid when they had taken such care to cover their tracks for so long.
He shivered at the memory of riding into town and into that black pall of smoke. The screams of children and the cries of women had been the background noise to the horses and sounds of gunfire. Hoss and he had been the ones to lift the bodies of the two children from the wreckage of the bank. They had made a valiant attempt to conceal their bodies from the mother, but to no avail. She had fought like a tigress to be near her babies and had wailed like a demented banshee once she had seen them.
One of the Fabians had said that they had just wanted to see how far they could go. It had been a banal statement to make, but probably the truest one.
“People are so stupid,” Amos had sneered at his trial. “They believe what they want to believe if the person telling them something appeals to them. You can get them to eat out of your hand if you treat ‘em right. More fools them.”
Adam sighed now. The town had felt foolish, and Roy had felt the biggest fool of them all. He had sincerely believed in them and to a certain degree, his trust in them, had provided them with the best smokescreen of all. He had, in many ways, provided them with the alibi that washed them whiter than snow. As a result, Roy carried this burden of guilt upon his shoulders. Adam had no doubt that it would be a burden he would carry until his death.
Adam turned aside and continued to walk to the saloon. He could hear Joe’s laugh as he pushed open the door and smiled to himself. Hoss’ loud welcome echoed in his ears and Ben smiled and indicated the empty chair and the glass of beer already waiting for him on the table.
Adam sat down and picked up the glass, raised it to his lips and swallowed some down. It was an odd thing. For some reason, Roy’s “itch” had transferred itself to him. He put down the glass and looked at his family. He shivered at the thought,
“What’s the matter with you, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Hoss asked, nudging his elbow so that some of the beer slopped over his hand.
“Are you alright, Adam?” Ben smiled. “Beer’s not too warm, is it?”
“No, it’s fine.” Adam replied and forced a smile. “Guess someone walked over my grave.”
The other three men glanced at one another and raised their eyebrows. Joe looked at his brother thoughtfully and shrugged, “Well, Adam, you took your time getting here. Lost yourself in those books, huh?”
“No, I met Roy. He was telling me that the Fabian brothers are going to be hanged this week.”
“About time,” Ben said very quietly.
A thickset man lounging against the counter picked up his glass and raised it to his lips. He stared into the mirror opposite him and watched the four men sitting at the table. He watched them very closely.
**********
The light but determined knock on the door drew Catherine away from the window. She had been drawn there, as though the view had cast some kind of spell upon her. In her heart of hearts, she knew that she was waiting for the Cartwrights to leave the saloon so that she could view them all once again.
She had seen the tall elegant figure of a thickset dark haired man leave the saloon, and had followed his path with a languid interest. The features of her face remained impassive. No one could have guessed that she had known him for years. When the knock came, she was already in anticipation of it. While Melanie crossed the room to open the door, Catherine walked slowly to the brocade chaise lounge and settled herself in some comfort.
Paul Tully took off his hat as he stepped into the room; he passed it over to Melanie as though she barely existed, while he approached the older woman. “Mrs. Fabian -,” he began, taking her hand in his and smiling into her eyes.
“Ford. My name is Ford – remember that in future and don’t address me as anything other than that.”
He arched his brows and pursed his lips, but nodded in compliance to her request. She looked at him and narrowed her eyes slightly. “You’re looking well, Paul.”
“Thank you. These past two years have not been so difficult. I did expect to hear from you much sooner than this, though.”
“I was hoping that you would not have needed to hear from me at all.” Catherine scowled, and then with a sigh, she looked back at him and allowed a smile to flash across her lips. “How are the rest of the boys?”
“Ready to do whatever you tell ‘em.”
“No. They have to do whatever you tell them, Paul.” Catherine said very softly, and she looked right into his eyes. She saw how the inky darkness of his pupils dilated and then shrank back, how the cheeks flushed momentarily before resuming their sallow normality. “I don’t want them to know that you are getting orders from me.”
“Like before – with Jethro?”
“Yes, just like before.” Catherine paused and looked to where Melanie had put down Tully’s hat, “Melanie, you can leave now. Come back in an hour.”
With the slightest of hesitations, Melanie hurried to the door and quietly closed it behind her. When the sound of her footsteps had finally faded away, Tully looked over at the woman with a frown. “Don’t you trust her?”
“I trust no one,” Catherine replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Melanie has worked for me and my family for a long time. We go back years, but there are things I would prefer her not to know, for her own protection, and ours.”
“Tends to talk, huh?” Tully grinned.
“No, I can trust her on that score. I just feel that what she doesn’t know is better for her.”
Tully said nothing, but raised his eyebrows slightly. This was the awkward thing about women; they could get sentimental and he didn’t deal with sentiment. He picked up his briefcase and set it down on the table and pulled out some papers which he unrolled. Once he had positioned several items on each corner to prevent them rolling back on themselves, he began to explain what each represented. His long index finger traced the outline of the Ponderosa, so familiar to the citizens of Virginia City but an unknown concept to her.
“This is what the Cartwrights’ own. The Ponderosa. One thousand square miles of the finest land you could wish for – they sit on a mountain of silver and gold, covered with the best timber for mining, with cattle grazing on rich grass. I tell you, Mrs. Fab – Mrs. Ford, they’ve got it made.”
“Whereabouts is their house?”
“Here.” Tully stabbed at the area where the ranch house had been built. “This is the route you need to take from Virginia City to reach it. It’s a pretty well worn road; you’d not get lost.”
“Oh, you anticipate that I’ll be making a neighborly call on them, do you?” Her lips curled into a semblance of a smile but her eyes remained cold.
“It’s best to know your way around, ma’am; it’s easy enough to get lost out there.”
“And this is where they are, is it?” Catherine leaned closer, her eyes following the line of his finger, noting the area where the road forked into tracks and wilderness.
“Mostly. At the moment, they’re busy branding so they’re visiting the house only irregularly. I’ve one of my men there; he’s been working for them for the past six weeks, ever since we first got news from you. They’re over here just now…” He stabbed at the land that seemed, on the map, a mere thumbnail distance from the Ponderosa ranch house.
“They’re in town, aren’t they?”
“You’ve seen them?” He glanced up at her, wondering what she was thinking. Her face remained impenetrable, and the heavy lids shielded her eyes from him, “Well, this campsite isn’t so far from town. I heard them talking when they were in the saloon. They know that Amos and Aaron are going to be hanged this week.” Again he looked at her to see what reaction his words would have on her, but once again, he was disappointed, for there was not a flicker of emotion to be seen.
“Well, news of that kind isn’t slow in getting around,” she said eventually.
There was an uncomfortable silence now. It settled around them like a smothering blanket and Tully once again wondered what it was she was thinking. She leaned back against the headrest of the chaise and looked hard and long at him, as though seeing him for the first time and wanting to look into his very soul. Tully was a man used to such scrutiny. He had lived by his wits for too long and was ruthless to the core. He met her cold gaze with one of his own. It was like reptile facing down reptile, cobra against cobra.
“Tell me what happened, Paul. I want to know what happened the day of the bank raid.”
Her voice was low, so low that he had to lean forward to catch her words. He was master of his features, however, and did not react to what was asked in any way other than to sit more upright and to continue to stare into her face.
As he composed his thoughts, one part of his mind was thinking that she was still a very attractive woman. Not a beautiful one, but very attractive. Perhaps it was the essence of power that seeped from her pores, from her clothing, and poise. Perhaps that was what happened when there are generations of rich and powerful ancestors to look back upon. That something extra that they had they passed on through the genes. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “What exactly do you want to know? How far back do you want to go?”
“As far back as necessary. For a start, tell me why Jethro and the boys decided to go along on this raid? It was always planned that they would keep their distance from you and your men, while at the same time establishing your alibis. This bank scheme was foolhardy, stupid. It doesn’t seem like Jethro’s idea at all and if I had been here -”
“No doubt you would have stopped it.” Tully smiled, a grim lipped smile that did not reach his eyes. “Look, to be honest, I didn’t like the idea either. I told my men that this was going to lead to trouble and I didn’t want anything to do with it. I warned Jethro that his plan was not thorough enough. But he insisted.”
“All right, so he insisted. But why did he go along with you? Why did he take Amos and Aaron?”
“It’s something a woman wouldn’t understand,” he drawled the words, and watched the way she raised one caustic eyebrow. “No disrespect, ma’am, but there comes a time when some men want to be involved in something that gets their hands dirty. Planning and scheming in a plush office, seeing your plans working out – well, that’s enough for most, but Amos and Aaron were young men and they wanted action. Jethro didn’t know it, but several times, the boys came along with us on our raids. They liked the excitement, the rush of blood to the head … Call it what you like, but they began to feel they were missing out on the real action.”
She sat upright then and surveyed him down the length of her straight refined nose as though he were some insect wriggling on a hook in front of her. Then she lowered her head and surveyed her hands for some seconds. “You’re saying that this was Amos and Aaron’s plan?”
“Yes.”
“Jethro went along for what reason?”
“Because – because he felt he was losing their respect.” Tully shrugged. “It happens; you can’t keep a tight rein on high spirited men. There comes a time when they want to kick over the traces.”
“Very well. Jethro talks the townspeople into putting the gold into one central bank. Amos and Aaron talk him into accompanying them to the bank … where were you all this time?”
“I was in the bank with two of my men. There were two others out the back with our horses. They were to take the gold. It was meant to be a simple withdrawal.”
“Withdrawal? Is that what a bank raid is called nowadays?” Catherine sneered, the first time she had reacted in any way other than cold and aloof.
“Look, Jethro and the boys were well respected in town. The bank manager practically crawled when they came into the building; he could never do enough for them, always fawning and bowing and scraping. It was planned that Jethro would just go and say he wanted to withdraw some money. It was just so simple. He’d spent weeks building up this rock solid reputation and no one doubted him for a second.”
“Someone must have done for it all went wrong, didn’t it?”
“Yes.” Tully nodded; he paused in reflection for a while, before eventually continuing. “My men and I was standing by the counter, nonchalant and acting as though we had a perfect right to be there. You know, it was like when an orchestra suddenly plays a wrong note – they may try to cover it over, but the audience knows something has gone wrong and they get nervous. It was like that. One minute the bank manager is crawling all over them, and then, suddenly, there was this feeling, this strong sense of apprehension and everyone was on edge. Amos put his hand to his gun, he moved too fast; it made the bank manager step back and look at their faces. Perhaps he saw something there that gave him an idea that this was not going to be just a simple withdrawal after all. He yelled to get the safe closed. Aaron pulled a gun. But the safe was closed and although we had the manager and his staff quiet, we had to use dynamite for the safe.”
“You’d come prepared for that?” Catherine asked simply.
“I always come prepared for anything.” Tully chewed his bottom lip and then cast a furtive glance in her direction. “But I hadn’t been prepared for what happened. The speed at which things went wrong. Usually if I’m going to use dynamite, or any kind of explosives on a job, then it gets planned down to the very last detail. That includes how much dynamite to use, how long the fuses, how much time we’d have to light the fuse and get cover. We would need to know the size and weight of the safe, the number of staff that would be there, how to control them, how to make sure the explosion is kept as contained as possible. Amos and Aaron planned on making a gentlemanly withdrawal – no explosives, no undue violence.” Tully shrugged. “That frission of fear, of tension made that impossible. We had to fall back on what we had, and we had to do it all by guesswork. The whole thing was a mess.”
“So Jethro got shot, my boys were arrested, and you and your men slipped out of the back door.”
“That’s about the size of it. I thought your husband and boys were right behind me but of course, they panicked. They automatically went out the way they came in. It’s kind of instinctive. We hadn’t planned it the way it turned out and they walked right into the Cartwrights.”
“And it was the Cartwrights who killed my husband?”
“Yes, ma’am. It was Ben Cartwright.” Tully stared at her, met her gaze full on and did not back down, “Sheriff Coffee accused him of it right away, when they were kneeling over Jethro’s body.”
“But if you had gone out the back door and were riding off with your men, you weren’t there to see it, so how do you know?”
“I had contacts in the town. I still have contacts in the town.” Tully smiled slowly. “The boys and I didn’t ride off entirely empty handed, and after we separated, I bought a business in Placerville and have done very well for myself during the past two years.”
She said nothing, but rested her chin upon her be-ringed hand, and looked deep into his eyes. For some reason, he flinched.
***********
Melanie stood in the centre of the road and looked up at the huge mountain with its snow capped peaks that were the backdrop to this hustling, bustling township. For a reason that she could not explain, she felt that she had come home. Something in her heart had been released and flown leaving her feeling contented and eased. She had never known a home of her own and had traveled extensively whilst in the Fabian’s employment. This was the first time she had ever experienced such a feeling as this. Something, somehow, had reached out and wrapped around her leaving her at peace with herself.
“Hey, now -” A deep voice, then strong arms and she was lifted off her feet and swung around before being placed gently down onto the boardwalk. “You should be careful, ma’am; the middle of the street ain’t no place for day dreaming.”
She stood there in stupefied silence with her eyes wide and round in surprise. Even as she stood there a wagon, moving at some speed, trundled over the place where she had been standing seconds beforehand. She noted its passing, registering the fact that this huge man had swept her off her feet and to safety. She could feel the blush mantling her cheeks in embarrassment.
“Thank you. I – I didn’t realize -,” she stammered, putting out her hand which he accepted graciously, sweeping off his tall hat with his free hand as he did so. “I got a bit swept away -.”
“If’n you’d stayed there much longer, you would’ve been swept away in more ways than one, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nuthin’ to apologize fer,” he smiled and the blue eyes twinkled. “You’re new hereabouts, ain’tcha?”
“Yes. I came off the stagecoach a few hours ago.”
“Wal, I sure hope you enjoy your stay here. I’m Hoss Cartwright, by the way. This here broomstick is my little brother, Joe.”
Another young man suddenly bounced into her line of vision. He was slender and handsome, and for a second or two it was hard to imagine them being brothers. She shook the obviously younger man by the hand and smiled; it was hard not to do so, he was so handsome and his eyes twinkled so much.
“I’m Melanie Howard. I work for Mrs. F – Ford.”
“Mrs. Ford?” Joe frowned, “Do we know her?”
“I don’t think so. She’s never been here before and I’ve worked for her for a very long time,” Melanie replied.
“So? Where are you from, Miss Melanie?” Hoss Cartwright asked kindly, his blue eyes looking at her with a respect that she had not been used to for a long time.
“Philadelphia.”
“You’ve sure traveled some way then. Guess you must be plumb tired out.”
“Yes. But I wanted to see the town,” she explained hurriedly, and then with a nod of the head, she stepped away from them and walked quickly towards the Hotel. She could see Paul Tully now, striding purposefully along towards some offices so she knew his audience was over with her mistress. As she crossed the road she glanced over her shoulder and saw that the two young men had mounted their horses and joined two others. By the time she had reached the entrance of the hotel, the four men were riding abreast along the main street, and the two she had met looked at her, and respectfully touched their hats.
So they were the Cartwrights. She watched them disappear from view before stepping into the dark interior of the hotel.
Catherine was standing at the window when Melanie entered the door. The older woman said nothing, but kept her back to the other woman as Melanie walked across the room and to the door of her bedchamber. She still had her own packing to finish.
Once inside, she began to methodically take out her clothes and put them away. She had very little in comparison to her mistress, but she had never minded that; after all, she knew her station and was grateful for what she did have. She paused as she took out her best gown. It was fading in color now, and parts of it were becoming threadbare. She held it against her and looked at her reflection in the cheval mirror that was positioned in the corner of the room.
How old she was now, and how colorless. She saw with dismay the lackluster eyes, and the way her jaw-line was developing jowls and that thickening of the neck. Her hair, severely scraped away from her hairline, was too fine for such a style, and made her look even older than her actual years. What did that Hoss Cartwright think of her when he saw her face? Had he thought he was whirling a young girl to safety onto the boardwalk, and then, seeing her face, realized it was a woman old enough to be his mother?
“Melanie?”
She let the gown drop onto the bed and turned away. Her mistress was calling, and as always, she submissively went her way to do Catherine’s bidding.
***********
Lewis Saunders rode his horse at a leisurely pace. There was no great rush to get back to the routine of the day. Branding calves had never been a specialty of his, and when the chance had come to go into town on an errand for the boss, he had seized it with both hands.
He liked this land. It was vast, spacious. He liked the enormity of it all. He paused now to look around at the pasture land upon which the Cartwright cattle grazed. It seemed to spread for miles and then swept on upwards towards the mountains which were clad with ponderosa pine. It was all magnificent. The skies overhead seemed to swirl further than the horizon, and there were wondrous colors flitting between the clouds, when there were any to be seen. He drew in a breath of the clean pure air and filled his lungs with it.
“You can get drunk on air this pure,” a voice murmured and the words had a smile in them, so that when he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Adam Cartwright leaning on the pommel of his saddle and looking at him with a smile on his face.
“I surely believe that to be true,” Lewis replied. “Mr. Cartwright, you’ve got a slice of heaven here.”
“Mm, that’s what I keep telling myself as well,” Adam replied. “Are you riding back to camp?”
“Yes, I’ve collected the mail from town.” Lewis tapped his jacket pocket and then glanced over at Adam, who had turned Sport around to ride alongside the cowhand. “Do all new hands get an escort back to camp, or is it just those who collect the mail?”
Adam laughed, a deep good humored laugh, and the brown eyes glanced at Lewis with a twinkle in them. “I was on my way to town to collect the mail myself. I didn’t realize Pa had all ready sent someone to do the errand.”
Lewis nodded, satisfied with the answer. For some moments they rode along in companionable silence, Adam still with the smile on his lips, and Lewis with that contemplative look on his face as he continued to enjoy the sights around him. “Those hills must be quite treacherous in the winter when the snow’s low lying,” he pointed to the way he had traveled. “You must get snowed in pretty much.”
“Yeah, we do, at times,” Adam sighed. “It can make for a long winter at times, but there’s always something to do, even then, to keep a ranch this size running to optimum efficiency.”
They continued on the trail towards the campsite, turning as they did so, onto rockier terrain and it was here that Lewis’ horse lost its footing and slid on the loose shale. Adam, riding ahead on the sure footed and stronger horse, was unaware of his companion’s plight until he heard Lewis give a yell as he slipped from the saddle onto the rocks.
Twisting in the saddle, Adam saw the other man land heavily upon his back while the mustang took the opportunity to take flight and make an attempt to gallop past Adam and Sport. With its head tossing and nostrils flaring, the animal had every intention of reaching the campsite well ahead of any of the others so when Adam leaned forward to grab for the flailing reins, the horse turned aside to put as much distance between them as possible.
He had not reckoned on Sport’s ability to move so swiftly. As big as he was, Sport was not a cumbersome horse and now leapt at his master’s command. Within far less time than the other horse would have liked, he was being led back to where Lewis was still sprawled on his back.
Lewis raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and saw the dark shape of the other man on the big horse approaching him. He also saw a gun in Adam’s hand and rolled to one side in the vain hope that the bullet that was fired from it would miss him. As he rolled, he reached for his own gun which was in his hand and pointed at Adam even before the echo of the other gunshot had trickled away.
Adam was putting his gun back into the holster when he saw Lewis’ gun aimed at him. He frowned, and with his head to one side, narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to use that gun or just sit there playing with it? One way or the other, it isn’t a very polite way of going about thanking someone for saving your life,” Adam said very calmly, a very slight touch of sarcasm rolling into some of the words.
“What do you mean? How did you save my life?”
Adam raised his hand and pointed to the bloodied remnants of a sidewinder close to where Lewis had been sprawled.
“I’m sorry,” Lewis mumbled, his face reddening slightly with embarrassment. “I’m in your debt. I hadn’t realized, about the snake I mean. I thought…,” His voice trailed away as the other man merely continued to look at him with that cool appraising look on his face while one hand still held out the reins of his horse to him. “Guess I’d best shut up and get on with the job, huh?”
Adam smiled, although this time the smile did not reach his eyes; he only nodded in agreement and once Lewis was in the saddle, he sent Sport trotting back along the trail.
Lewis rode along for some while ruminating over what had taken place. He glanced every so often at the rider beside him and wondered what was going through his mind. The very passive, quite blank, features of his companion were almost unsettling and eventually he cleared his throat.
“I should have thanked you back there. I’m sorry for drawing on ya.” He looked again at Adam who merely inclined his head and continued riding on as though his private thoughts were of more importance than the man’s thanks. “I said, thank you.”
“I heard,” Adam drawled, and looked at Lewis as though seeing him for the first time. “How do you like working for our outfit? It’s been several weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, about that,” Lewis replied, wondering if this was leading up to his being fired from the job. An odd way of dealing with a guy, saving his life and firing him for not saying thanks quick enough.
“So?” Adam glanced over at him again. “D’you like working for the Ponderosa?”
“I ain’t never been much of a cattleman, but I’m enjoying working along with you all. I needed the money. I did explain to your brother, the big man, that I wasn’t very experienced.”
“Are you trying to make an excuse for bad workmanship?” Adam’s lips thinned, and he shot a narrow eyed look at the man from the corner of his eyes.
“No, jest stating the facts. I’m more used to town life and such.”
“Then why did you apply for work at the Ponderosa?”
“As I said, I needed the money.” Lewis frowned. “There’s money in cattle, and I figger that if’n you want to make money these days, you need to know what it’s all about. My Pa always said the way to make a good business work is to know it from the bottom rung upwards ‘cos if you start at the top rung and don’t know your A from your Z – well, it’s a long way to fall!”
Adam allowed a grin to slip across his mouth and he nodded, and looked again at Lewis. “But you have been in Virginia City before now, haven’t you? I mean, perhaps, some years ago?”
Lewis felt his mouth run dry and he licked his lips. He rubbed his face with his hands and looked at the horizon for inspiration. Adam shrugged. “Probably someone who looked like you?” he suggested.
“Yeah, but you’re right.” Lewis nodded. “I was in Virginia City about two, mebbe three years back. I didn’t stay long, just enough time to know my way around. That’s how come I knew about the Ponderosa. Everyone talks about the Cartwrights so I knew if I hit town agin that the Ponderosa would be the best place to go for a job.”
Adam said nothing. He sat ramrod straight in the saddle and kept his eyes right ahead of him. Whatever he thought about Lewis and his explanation was not evident in the way he continued riding towards the campsite, which, to Lewis’ relief, was now in sight.
They parted company as they rode into the camp. Adam veered off to the chuck wagon and dismounted. He walked over to the where Chevy, the cook for the day, was pouring out coffee into the blue enamel mugs. “I’ll have one. Thanks, Chevy.”
Adam nodded his thanks and raised the mug to his lips. He turned however to watch as Lewis, having dismounted, walked over to Ben and pulled out the mail. Ben smiled his thanks to the younger man and walked away, the letters in his gloved hands. Lewis turned, saw Adam, and then returned to his horse. He remounted and rode away.
Hoss walked from the fire where the branding irons were glowing red hot, and wiped his hands down the front of the chaps he was wearing. He glanced over at Lewis, following the direction of Adam’s gaze. “Anything wrong?”
“I don’t know, you tell me?”
Hoss shrugged, and rubbed his nose with his hand. “You don’t like Lewis?”
“Neither one way nor the other...” Adam replied. “Just wondering where I’d seen him before.”
“Wal, all I kin tell you is that he rode in about three weeks ago and asked for work. He said he hadn’t any experience with cattle, but was willing to work hard and learn.”
“Did he tell you he’d been in the area about two, three years ago?”
“No, why should he? Man has a right to go as he pleases, ain’t he?” Hoss frowned, and looked at his brother with a slight furrow between his eyes. “He works hard and is pleasant enough. The men rub along kinda fine with him anyhow.”
Adam nodded and said nothing. He sipped his coffee and swallowed it as though he suspected it had been deliberately poisoned. Hoss shook his head and walked off, too busy to tolerate Adam’s moods for the day. He was not too pleased when, after squatting down to check the irons, he saw Adam’s boots planted next to him. He glanced up and with a sigh got to his feet. “Now what?”
“Humor me.”
“Yeah and what fer this time?”
Adam glanced around and shrugged. He inhaled deeply and raised his chin challengingly, as though ready to take any swipes Hoss might want to land on him. “Did we hire any other men apart from Lewis? I mean, at around the same time?”
Hoss narrowed his eyes. He pushed back his high steeple hat and scratched his head. Then he nodded. “Two men. Leon Murphy and Henry Rogers.”
“They came at the same time?”
“Nah,” Hoss shook his head. “Leon Murphy came first. He rode into the yard and asked if there were any jobs going. He said that the Milfords had told him there was always work here for an experienced hand.”
“And is he? Experienced?”
“Yeah, he knows what he’s doing all right.” Hoss nodded to emphasize the point. “Pa hired him, not me.”
“What about Rogers?”
“Oh, Henry’s only a kid. About twenty-two if he’s a day. He approached me and Joe in town. Had a game of cards with him. Joe liked him and asked him what he was doin’ of, so he said that he was jest travelin’ around and Joe said he’d need money to do thet, so then Joe offered him a job. He’s a great kid.”
“Works hard?”
“Hard enough to deserve his pay,” Hoss replied defensively.
Adam sighed and nodded. He finished his coffee, threw the dregs away and walked to his horse. Hoss watched his brother mount up and ride out of the camp site. He could never get used to his brother’s vagaries and with a sigh squatted back down again and checked on the irons.
***********
Ben Cartwright pushed the door open and stepped into the plush interior of the Mayor’s home. This was the one occasion of the year that Ben most disliked. Dressed in his best suit, crisp white shirt and immaculate silver brocade vest, Ben felt uncomfortable and constantly ill at ease. This was the Mayor’s annual banquet. The occasion that he rather euphemistically hoped would chase away the past year’s cobwebs and disagreements. An event that he hoped would build bridges between personalities that had perhaps clashed over the past year. An evening where relaxation, good food and rich wine would make each member of the town board wax lyrical and hopeful of good things to come for the town and its inhabitants.
The only thing that Ben found to be in this entertainment’s favor was that sometimes, just sometimes, the Mayor’s fragile hopes did work. Relaxed and at ease, many disagreements did sink into an apathetic pit, and personalities worked for a while to get along in the euphoria of good wishes and optimism.
Ben also found himself uncomfortable with the situation because he was without the accompaniment of his sons. Even Adam distanced himself from any chance of being invited to the event, despite being a member of the Town Board for some years. So, without his rearguard behind him as a back-up, Ben set down his hat, slung his gunbelt upon the gathering heap of weaponry on the bureau and took a deep breath before pushing open the doors from the hallway into the main rooms of the house.
“Ah, Ben.” The Mayor turned to him immediately, his face already florid and flushed with an overindulgence of the wine that was, to Ben’s dismay, already flowing freely. “Ben, may I introduce you to a lady who is a visitor to our town. She is the friend of a very old friend of mine in Philadelphia.”
Ben sighed; this was another eventuality that he hated, as a single man being forced to pair up with a single woman, plucked from the Mayor’s social circle, or rather, that of his wife. There were times when he had found the evening quite pleasantly enhanced by the company of the female chosen for the evening, but there had been the other times… and he involuntarily shuddered at the memories.
The woman who now appeared at the Mayor’s side was tall, stately, and with an intelligent caste of features. She surveyed Ben with much the same air of baffled resignation as he was sure she could see on his own face. She smiled and despite a slight wariness in her eyes, appeared to be pleased with the look of the man standing before her. She held out her hand and took his as the Mayor rambled his introductions,
“ – and so, dear lady, Ben, I leave you to get to know one another. Always better to have a chance to get to know each other before the prospect of eating. Less risk of indigestion.” Chuckling to himself, the Mayor wandered off, leaving Ben wondering how the man had ever been credited with enough sense to have been elected Mayor at all.
“Mrs. Ford?” Ben smiled, the appreciation of her looks and dress warming the darkness of his eyes so that they twinkled down at her. “You’re a long way from home. What brings you to our part of the world?”
“Business,” Catherine replied with a smile to put some warmth into the words. “Rather boringly, I’m afraid, but that’s the reason I’m here, just plain simple boring business.”
“Ah, well, we shall have to see if we can make your business here less boring,” Ben replied, a statement he was to recall to mind later and for which he would be kicking himself.
“The Mayor was very kind in inviting me here this evening, but I rather feel now that it was to make up the numbers rather than for any other reason. I do hope that you won’t find me a boring or disinterested companion, Mr. Cartwright?”
“I’m sure that I shall not,” Ben replied gallantly, realizing he had held her hand overlong and now releasing it. “What kind of business are you involved in exactly, Mrs. Ford?”
Once again, Catherine looked at the man standing by her side and ran her eyes slowly over him. He was a handsome man, his looks enhanced by a confidence and arrogance that appealed to her. She could see only too clearly that even if he had been a pauper, he would still have stood there with that ease, that self confidence and assurance brings to some men. There was pride and ruthlessness in the caste of his face, and she could see from the sharp look in his eyes that he would be a man who would face any adversity with courage and determination to win.