A World Upside Down

By Krystyna

Joseph Cartwright slapped both knees then raised his head and laughed aloud. His infectious chortle rose loud and clear. It was so hilarious that his brothers began to chuckle along with him.

After a moment, Hoss, rather embarrassed at his brother’s hilarity, gave him a nudge. "Hey, Joe, I don’t think it was that funny!” he exclaimed, his blue eyes widening as he surveyed his younger brother. All signs of humor dissipated from him even more quickly as Joe continued to chortle.

“Well, Hoss, you know our little brother; he likes to claw every ounce of whatever’s going for all its worth.” Adam sighed, stood up and stretched. ”As for me, I’m going to bed down.”

“Hey!” Joe stopped laughing, although it was with some difficulty and his facial muscles still twitched. “Hey, Hoss, that was jest about the best joke going. Where’d you hear it?”

“Adam told it to me,” Hoss said nonchalantly as he knelt in front of the camp fire and began to make it safe for the night.

“And I heard it from Pa,” Adam drawled, casting his hat onto the ground beside his saddle, and carefully preparing his bedding.

“From PA? You gotta be kidding me?” Joe began to chortle again. Shaking his head, he stood up and walked to where he had cast down his saddle. “Are you sure you got it from Pa?”

“Well, it was from that guy who lives with us and insists we call him Pa.” Adam lay down and pulled a blanket over his long legs.

“Not that guy with the grey hair and brown eyes and boom of a voice?” Hoss chuckled

“The very same.” Adam yawned

“Hey, he told me a joke the other night.” Joe giggled, pulling out his bed roll and fussing about with it to make sure there were no rocks underneath. “Do you want to hear it?”

“NO!” both his brothers exclaimed loudly. Adam picked up his hat and placed it calmly over his face as though to emphasize that was the end of the subject. Hoss pulled off his boots and tossed them to one side.

“Phwor!” Adam exclaimed, “What’s that?” He sat bolt upright as though he’d been shot.

“What’s what?” Hoss asked innocently as he rubbed his feet and toes and then scratched his head.

“How can you do that?” Joe exclaimed

“Do what?” Hoss mumbled, yawned, and scratched his chest.

“Scratch your head after you’ve jest handled yer feet! No wonder your hairs falling out.”

“Are you saying my feet smell?” Hoss growled, sidling into his bed roll and flapping out his moth-eaten old blanket which brought another wail of dismay from his siblings.

“Hoss, how many times have I told you to get that darn thing washed? Or, better still, get a new one.” Joe groaned “Oh, traveling with you and your feet and your blanket -- it’s a nightmare.” He settled his head onto his saddle and sighed, then folded his hands behind his head and gazed up at the moon “Hey, this joke I was going to tell you, you’ll jest crease up. Pete and Jake were riding through the salt flats…”

“Pete and Jake who?” Hoss asked as he scratched his chest and then stretched again, raising his hands to the sky and yawning loudly.

“You know. Pete and Jake. They ride the stagecoach normally,” Adam muttered, groping for his hat which once found he once again placed over his face.

“What’re they doin’ then riding through the salt flats?” Hoss pulled at his blanket and frowned when he realized how exposed his feet were going to be as a result.

“They decided to hire two horses …alright? Can I get on with it now?” Joe exclaimed, giving his brother a withering look that in the darkness went unobserved by the other man, who was still adjusting his blanket in an attempt to cover himself all over.

“Get on with what?” Hoss mumbled.

“The joke, of course!”

“What joke? I thought you were telling us about Pete and Jake?” came the innocent observation from the big man. “Ouch, dadburned rock. Where’d thet come from?”

“When you two are finished, I’d like to get some sleep sometime tonight!” Adam growled.

“These two men  ...”

“What two men?” came Hoss’ immediate rejoinder.

“Are you doing this deliberately, Hoss Cartwright?”

“Doing what?”

“You keep interrupting when I’m trying to tell you a joke.”

“A joke? Is that what it’s meant to be?” Hoss laughed out loud and then laid down with a sigh, his blanket up to his chin and his hat close by his boots. He sniffed, and his blue eyes swiveled from left to right. “You know, there’s some kind of odd smell around here? Anyone notice?”

“Well, you’re a good six feet and four inches distance from your feet so it can’t be them,” Adam muttered.

“Yeah, but I’m only six inches from ma boots. Shucks, I hope Butlers Creek has a good public baths.”

“Get some new boots as well,” his elder brother advised.

Joe pulled up the blanket to his shoulders and smiled to himself. It had been a grueling few weeks away from the Ponderosa but well worth it. The cattle had reached a good price, one of the best years trading in beef they had experienced in some years, and now they were homeward bound.

Evenings like this one, the three of them camped around a fire, exchanging jokes and chatting over any old thing that came to mind, created and strengthened bonds of companionship, loyalty, and brotherly love.

Overhead the stars shone so brightly that where the buttes and trees existed they created vast black depths of nothingness in the pattern of celestial lights. The moon drifted lazily along, obscured at times by drifting cloud and then peeking out again, as though enjoying the nightly ritual of hide and seek.

Joe yawned and thought over the day, smiling at times over odd snippets. He yawned again and turned over, then looked at the two dark shapes that indicated where his brothers lay. “Hey, you two, you asleep yet?” he whispered

“Nearly.” Hoss mumbled, and turned over, bringing his blanket over with him so that the whole of his back was exposed to the chill of the night. “Dangblast it!” he muttered.

“This joke, see, these two men were riding their horses over the salt flats with no water to drink and getting thirstier and thirstier.”

“Is this Pete and Jake agin?” Hoss said, struggling to disentangle himself from his blanket.

“Will you two SHUT UP!” demanded Adam.

The flames of the fire gave a final flare before slowly burning through the wood which collapsed into the ash through which only intermittent embers still glowed. Joe sighed, turned onto his back and closed his eyes and smiled. “It was a real good joke,” he mumbled amidst a yawn.

“Tell us in the mornin’…” Hoss whispered.

Overhead a star trailed its dying course across the dark night sky and the moon slid behind dense clouds so that all was covered with even greater darkness than before. Joe felt himself drifting into sleep, the vastness all about him having shrunk into the existence of a mere body in a bedroll.

The sounds of the night were overlaid by the sounds of three men asleep. Night creatures slunk pass the small camp and paused to listen, to sniff and smell the intruders, and to slink back from where they had come. Hoss’ snores reverberated above every other sound, buzzing like a saw mill one minute, snorting like a weary mule the next.

A sidewinder sidled its stealthy approach towards them and paused at the massive boots that was the obstacle to its trail. It hissed softly and coiled its way around them and hurriedly exited into the undergrowth. A night jar paused in its flight and continued on. Within hours the dark sky was a mass of color, as splashes of pinks and oranges and reds burst upon a purple backdrop. The moon hurried to finalize its course as the sun flashed forth once again.

************

Adam lathered his face and surveyed it in the mirror, squinting slightly to get it more into focus, then leaning forwards to adjust its position. Carefully he put the blade to his jaw line and slowly scraped along the surface of the skin, removing stubble with the lather and flicking it away, before dipping the blade into the bowl of water he had by his side and going through the same procedure as before….scrape, flick, dip…scrape, flick, dip…

By the fire, Joe was scratching his chest, rubbing sleep from his face and yawning. The coffee pot was boiling and the fire was serving its purpose in cooking breakfast; bacon was sizzling.

Hoss pulled on his boots, smacked his lips together and rubbed his face to get some life into it. “Shucks, I hardly slept a wink last night,” he groaned.

“You could’ve fooled me,” Joe muttered, putting the ham onto the plates and stirring some beans “Is this all we’ve got to eat?” he asked his elder brother who had been up far earlier to see to the food and his ablutions.

“We’ll get some fresh provisions when we get to Butlers Creek; they’ve a good store there,” Adam replied, finalizing his shaving at last and drying his face. He ran a hand over his chin and jaw and surveyed the result closely in the mirror.

“Is there anyone – or rather – any she – in particular you hope to be seeing at Butlers Creek today?” Hoss asked his elder brother with a grin. “You seem to be prettying yerself up mighty fine.”

“Well, you just never know.” Adam smiled at his reflection, then put his shaving kit aside and made way for Hoss, who immediately removed the mirror to place it slightly higher. “It’s been about six years since Pa and I first rode into Butlers Creek.” He knelt down and stirred the beans “The doctor there saved Pa’s life when some idiot fired off a gun at us. As we were riding close by, Pa wanted us to call in and see the man.”

“Why?” Joe poured out coffee and savored its bitter aroma. “It put an extra two days to our return journey.”

“I think Pa felt he hadn’t shown the townsfolk enough gratitude for what they did,” Adam said quietly, taking the mug that Joe handed over to him. “You know how Pa feels about things at times.”

“How big is this town, Adam?” Hoss called out from where he was shaving.

“Well, six years ago there were about 180 people there, but it had a lot of promise. Good land for cattle as well as farming, good forestry, plenty of timber, and there was talk of the railway stopping off there. By now it should be quite a busy, thriving town. Joe, check that ham, huh?”

“Oh boy, I can hardly wait to have a good soak in a good hot bath tub.” Hoss sighed, putting razor to chin and scraping carefully at his lathered skin.

Joe and Adam smiled and looked at one another and raised their eye brows. There was no need to say a word but they were wholeheartedly in agreement; Hoss really did need a good soak in a good hot bath tub!

**********

The three men stared down at the town that was spread out before them as clearly as buildings set out in a toy store. Hoss pushed back his hat, wiped his brow and looked at his brothers. “Certainly seems to be thriving,” he commented.

“Pa thought it would; the Mayor and council of the town certainly seemed ambitious enough,” observed Adam.

“Hope they’ve a good restaurant.” Hoss grinned, his eyes twinkling at the vision of steak and onions, a rich dark sauce, and a mountain of potatoes.

“Public baths first, Hoss, Joe reminded him with a wink and grin over at Adam, who nodded and smiled.

“I am hungry,” Hoss protested.

“You am smelly,” mimicked Joe and with a laugh he put heels to his horse. It slid and skidded its way down from the track above the buttes that led to the road to Butlers Creek.

It was a large town. It had within it all the smells, noises, sights and sounds of a prospering township. Stores were laden with fine goods which were displayed on stalls or behind large windows for all to see. Hurdy-gurdy houses whined out their noises. Restaurants eddied forth sweet enticing smells. From saloons came the ruckus of piano playing, shouting, singing and arguing. Children, free from the day’s schooling, ran down the sidewalks and in and out of the stores – yelling, shouting, bawling -- bags and books swinging by their sides.

Older children walked more sedately, beginning to pair off into couples, shyly walking side by side, hoping to touch hands, and daring one another with coy eyes. Women stood outside the stores gossiping and men lounged outside playing checkers, smoking, dozing or reminiscing. It was just another large town.

The hotel rooms were clean and modestly furnished and boasted bathrooms at the end of each corridor. Within an hour of booking in, the three brothers met in the hallways and looked at one another thoughtfully,

“Metamorphosis,” Adam grinned.

“Really? What was he like?” Hoss asked, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve

“No, you idiot, not met a morphosis," Joe exclaimed, raising his eyes to heaven in despair “Meta-morphosis!”

“Yeah, I know. I heard what he said jest as clear as you did!” Hoss frowned and glanced at his reflection in the mirror and grinned at the sight of the three of them. “Hey, some change huh?”

“Yeah, some change!” Adam chuckled and led the way out of the hotel.

“Where to now?” Joe glanced left and right, and then looked at his brother. “Didn’t you want to go and see your doctor Fleming?”

“He died two years ago,” Adam replied. “The hotel receptionist told me when we booked in.”

“Huh, so coming here is just a waste of time then.”

“Well, at least we can enjoy ourselves while we are here,” Adam said quietly, following with his eyes the route of the young woman who had just stepped out of  hardware store and was strolling along the sidewalk opposite them.

“I guess we could at that,” Joe grinned, his eyes following the direction of his brothers but his legs moving faster

“I’m going to eat,” Hoss declared. “I’m so hungry I could eat Hop Sing if he stood still long enough for me to put him in the oven.”

Adam nodded and smiled as he watched Joe pause midway across the street and turn back to join them. The pretty young woman had been joined by a hefty young man and the way they interlinked their arms was clear indication that Joe’s attentions would be highly unwelcome

The saloon was called “New Orleans Belle”, a name that was an immediate draw and enticement to Joe, who insisted that they spent the first hour of the evening there at least.

The smog of countless cigarettes, cheroots and cigars being puffed by a variety of the town’s personnel was the first thing to greet them as they pushed open the door and made their way into the saloon.

A woman wearing scarlet and black, and with dyed red hair into which she had struck a scarlet feather, eyed the three of them up and down as they made their way to the counter. She was draped rather languidly over a piano, listening to the attempts of the pale-faced greasy-haired youth as he keyed some long forgotten melody from the ancient instrument. She removed the cigarette from her lips and stood upright with some effort, as though the piano itself was her sole means of support. Slowly she made her way over to the three brothers and stood by the side of the tallest, and biggest. “Staying here long?”

“Nope…three beers, bartender…thanks…”

“Where you staying?”

“At the hotel down the road. Excuse me, ma’am.” Adam took his beer and followed his brothers to the table, slopping some over his hand as he sat down. He glanced nervously over his shoulder and then grimaced at his brothers. Some women gave him the creeps.

Joe suppressed a giggle and nudged his brother’s foot as the woman once again strolled slowly towards them. “Hey, Hoss...I reckon she has her eye on you!” he whispered “Whatcha gonna do about it, huh?”

“Shucks!” Hoss buried his face into his glass and quaffed deeply. The woman, not having a piano nearby, now decided Hoss was the perfect replacement and draped herself over him.

Adam winced and glanced over at Joe, but Joe was finding it too amusing to think of his brother’s feelings. There were times when Joe’s sense of fun over ruled his sense of compassion, and he’d forget how easily embarrassed his older brother could get at times.

Hoss glanced warily out of the corner of his eye and swallowed a gulp in his throat. “Huh, miss…I, huh, I  ...”

“I’d love to join you…” she said quietly, sat down on the spare seat and smiled at the three of them. The three of them smiled back and grabbed their glasses instinctively, as though they were the only barrier between her and them “Make mine a whiskey,” she called over to the bartender, who nonchalantly complied and bore the amber liquid to their table within seconds. “My name’s Millie Fleming.” She glanced over at them. “So? You don’t intend to be staying here long then?”

“Nope. Fact is, our stays getting shorter all the time,” Hoss mumbled, looking desperately at Adam. Surely his quick-thinking brother could see some way of helping him out of this.

“What are you? Cowpokes? Salesmen?” She screwed up her face as the whiskey trickled down her throat. Joe winced; he found it distasteful to watch women down drinks like some thirst-ridden cowboy. He glanced around to see if there was any other means of getting away from her.

“Fleming? Any relation to the doctor who died two years back?” Adam asked quietly.

“My husband.” She shrugged. “I know -- how the mighty are fallen.” She sighed and glanced down at her tawdry dress. “Harold would have a fit if he saw me now, but there was nothing else I could do. Life isn’t always kind, especially when your husband’s some kind of saint and dies leaving you without a brass nickel to survive on. Another whiskey,” she called over to the bartender.

The three brothers glanced at one another, and along with their irritation with her was now the feeling of sympathy, which was a nuisance as it now made it more difficult to leave the table and go elsewhere.

“Mrs. Fleming, don’t you think...”

“Mrs. Fleming?” She laughed, chortled, cackled. Her fingers curled around the glass as though her life depended on the next shot of whiskey it contained; she raised it to her lips and then lowered it, untouched, to the table. “Mrs. Fleming. Oh, I can’t remember the last time anyone around here called me that, and with any respect.”

“Your husband saved our Pa’s life some years ago. I don’t recall ever meeting you, though,” Adam frowned. “I thought he was a bachelor.”

“He was until he made the mistake of marrying me.” She frowned and stared into the glass. “Or maybe I made the mistake of marrying him.” She glanced up and smiled at Adam and then at Joe. She lurched forward suddenly, and her long fingers caressed the side of Joe’s face. “You’re a pretty looking dude, ain'tcha? You remind me of someone.” She frowned and then looked at Adam. “So Harold saved your Pa’s life. How long ago was that?”

“About six years ago.”

“Six years?” She raised her eyes to his level and stared into the dark face and smiled. “Six years ago I was teaching school. Five years ago I married Harold. Two years ago I was widowed. Last year I started working here. Had to sell everything. Nothing left.” She drank down the whiskey in the same manner as the one previous, and then turned to the bartender and raised the glass. Gently Hoss put a hand on her arm and lowered it.

“Why not jest leave it at thet one, for the time bein’, ma’am” he said very quietly

She had been pretty once. Joe, sitting opposite her and nursing his glass of beer, tried to imagine what she had looked like as a teacher, facing a school room of bright-eyed, eager children. Her hair was obviously dyed red, and was too harsh for her complexion. Behind the powder and the scarlet slash of a mouth and the bright paint on her eyes, perhaps she was still attractive. He sighed and raised his glass to his lips

“Feeling sorry for me, are you, handsome?” She was looking fixedly at him; her bright hard green eyes bore into his and he felt the color flushing up under his collar at her scrutiny “P’raps I should have jest introduced myself as Millie. Millie who likes whiskey, Millie who likes more whiskey. Just plain Millie.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but…”

“You know,” -- she flicked long fingers in his direction and anticipating the touch of them on his skin once again, he flinched back --“you DO remind me of someone, but can’t think who it could be jest awhile.” She frowned and then looked at Hoss and Adam. “So you three are brothers, huh?”

“Yes, ma‘am,” Hoss murmured, raised his eyebrows at his brothers and gave a half grin.

“You don’t look alike.”

“Shucks, ma’am, that ain’t our fault” Hoss took a swig from his glass. “Anyhows, time we were moseying on.”

“Yeah, best to go now.” Joe picked up his hat and stood up. “Thanks for the company, Miss Millie.”

Adam stood up and reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Mrs. Fleming, our Pa wanted your husband, Dr. Fleming, to have this; as you’re his next of kin, I guess it rightly belongs to you.”

“What is it?” she reached for it suspiciously.

“Well, Doctor Fleming wanted to build a hospital here. Pa always felt that he never thanked him, Doctor Fleming, enough for saving his life and wanted to make a donation.”

“You mean, there’s money in here?” The color rose to her face, and the brittle eyes filled with tears. “Real money?”

“Yes, ma’am, real money.”

“But…” She stared at the envelope without moving, without even being aware that Hoss had stood up and was about to leave the table and that Joe had moved away. She looked up at the man dressed in black and swallowed hard before handing the envelope back. “Take it back, mister. Thank your Pa for thinking, an’ all the rest of it, but Harold’s dead, and his dream died a long way back. There ain’t no hospital here.”

“You could get one started, a hospice perhaps.”

“A hospice?” She gave a short bark of a laugh and shook her head. “Go outside and look around, young man; this ain’t the kind of town that spends money on things like hospices. Harold’s dream died when the gunslingers moved in, and the card sharks, and the hurdy-gurdy houses and everything else. Good men moved out as bad men moved in. People didn’t die of sickness and old age here anymore; they got shot down or stabbed or had strange fatal accidents on dark nights. Harold and I, we spent all we could on trying to keep things going decently, but where did it end up? He’s dead. And I’m here. And I’m too skeered to take that money because, because it would probably kill me before I spent it all.” She looked at him again and smiled sadly, a soft gentle smile that revealed the gentleness still existing behind the façade. “Thank your Pa. You can see what kind of person I am now. I dare not even dream of my Harold now; he would not like the kind of person I have become…”

“Then take the money and move out. Move somewhere else,” Joe blurted out.

“You’re an impetuous one,” she chuckled, giving him a flash of her green eyes. She frowned and stood up, a trifle unsteadily. “It’s too late for me, dear, too late. Where would I move to anyway?” She shrugged. “I can’t move myself from myself, can I?”

“That’s one sad lady,” Hoss said quietly as they watched her make her unsteady way back to the piano.

“Well, at least she was decent about the money,” Joe muttered.

Adam merely sighed and put the envelope back into his pocket.

Hoss gave his brother a pat on the back. “I’m going to turn in,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you later then.”

Adam nodded and then turned to look at Joe. “You staying, little brother?”

Joe said nothing. He was standing with his back to Adam, facing the far corner of the room. At the table were five men, one of whom had a young woman draped over him in a possessive attitude. But it was not the girl that Joe was looking at and watching…

“Joe? I said, are you staying?”

Adam turned to look at his brother but Joe was now walking, as though in a dream, towards the far corner of the room, towards the five men and the woman. The woman looked up and smiled, but it was not the woman that Joe was looking at and watching.

“Joe? Are you alright?” Adams voice floated through the air and hung there an instant of time as Joe carried on walking toward the table, toward the man with the woman draped over him. But now she was standing up and stepping back, as though the approach of the strangers toward this man during a card game was nothing new to her.

“Aces high. Your deal.”

“Count me out.”

“You dealing?”

“Nope”

“I raise you five hundred?”

“Can’t match it. Count me out.”

“What about you?”

Joe stepped forward and turned. The woman stepped back and away from them and the five men at the table froze. When a man steps up to a gambler with a white face and set mouth, with eyes blazing with emotion or dead with dread, there was every reason to expect trouble.

The gambler put his cards down and placed his hands flat on the table. He raised his eyes to meet those of the youth who stood before him and the color drained from his face. “Joseph Cartwright?” he murmured, staring at the youth with disbelief.

“Clay Stafford?” Joe murmured, staring at the older man. “Clay?”

They held one another in a close embrace as only brothers could and would after time apart. Joe felt the tears prickling his eyelids and wasn’t ashamed when one tear trickled down his cheek. “I never thought I would ever see you again” he whispered

“Nor I, Joe. I thought you‘d never want to see me again.” Clay stepped back and held his younger brother at arms length and shook his head in disbelief. “Is it really you?” Clay pulled him close in another hug. “How’d you know I was here?”

“We didn’t; we had to come here on an errand for Pa.” Joe took a deep breath and shook his head “Clay. I thought you were dead.”

“Not quite, sometimes nearly, sometimes almost, but never quite.” Clay chuckled and turned as he sensed the other man standing close behind him. He knew there would be no hugs or tears from this man, but the handshake was warm and genuine. “Good to see you again, Adam.”

“And to see you.”

Hoss, who had stepped back from leaving, now stepped forward and extended his hand which was shaken with more enthusiasm. “I reckon Pa will be over the moon when he sees us ride in with you,” Hoss declared.

Clay paused, glanced at each one of the brothers in turn, and then smiled a flashing bright smile, his eyes twinkled.

“I hope so,” Clay laughed, clutching at Joe’s arm. “I sure hope.”

**********

The room where Clay lodged was indicative of a man who was just passing through. The Cartwrights took seats around a table and Clay poured out drinks and then sat down with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in the dark eyes, very similar in shape and color to those of his younger brother. “I was going to come back to give you something, Joe,” he drawled slowly. “Or had you forgotten that I made a promise to you some time back?”

“I hadn’t forgotten,” Joe replied and looked at his brother somewhat shyly as Clay placed the framed picture of Marie Cartwright on the table. He picked it up reverentially and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Shucks, somehow I guess I never thought to be seeing this again.”

“Takes more than a Mexican revolution to get rid of me, brother.” Clay raised his glass and then took a gulp.

“We hadn’t heard for so long, we did wonder that perhaps something had happened to you,” Adam said quietly. “You had promised to keep in touch, if I remember rightly?”

“That’s true and I apologize for being so remiss in my letter writing.” Clay smiled, softening the sarcasm in his voice as he did so. He looked fondly at Joseph who was still gazing longingly at the picture of his mother, “Is she still as beautiful as you remember?” he asked gently.

“Every bit as much.” Joe’s voice wobbled a little and he took a deep breath before he faced Clay and looked at his brother again more closely. Still handsome, still debonair, with the same rebellious mass of hair as himself, with the same shaped eyes and chin. But that was where the resemblance ended, for the other man was taller, thicker set, and more rugged in features. His hands were elegant too, unlike Joe’s. Clay had hands like his mother, with long fingers -- good for dealing out cards, he had once boasted. “So? What happened? How long have you been back here?”

“Well, I guess a lot’s happened over the past few years,” Clay said in the tone of voice that Adam recognized as that of a person stalling for time to think out a story, or two.

“Yeah, but you said you’d write,” Joe chided.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m hopeless at writing anyway, and a Mexican battlefield was hardly conducive to putting pen to paper at the best of times.” Clay looked at his brother and shook his head “You look so well, Joe; things have been good for you, huh?”

“I guess so. Even better if you’d been there, Clay.”

Adam and Hoss said nothing but took their glasses and sipped their drinks as they glanced at one another. Adam put his glass down and stood up, cleared his throat and smiled in rather a shy manner. “Look, Hoss and I reckon we’d better leave you to two to talk and get reacquainted. We’ll catch up with you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Hoss stood up hurriedly, knocking into the table and spilling the glasses over a little. “We’ll see you in the morning, Joe. Clay.”

“Good idea.” Joe bounced up with enthusiasm and shook their hands. “See you both later.”

On the landing the two brothers looked at one another and Hoss sighed, “Well, he seemed happy enough to see us go.”

“Yeah, well,” Adam slapped his big brother on the shoulder, “it’s his brother.” He smiled. “Let’s go someplace and have a drink.”

“Nope, I’d rather just go and bed down.”

“I won’t argue about that.” Adam smiled and together they left the boarding house and walked to their hotel.

***********

Clay nursed his glass, then walked over to the couch and slumped down on it; he looked over at Joe and smiled and beckoned to him to join him. “You know Benito Juarez became the first Indian President of Mexico in’61”

“Yeah, I read about it in the news tabloids.” Joe glanced over at Clay and frowned. “I thought you would be coming home then, but when there was no news from you, I…we…feared the worse.”

“Oh, I stayed in Mexico for about six months. The Spanish don’t like to let go of things that easily, you know.” He smiled dryly. “Then I traveled back to New Orleans, to see the family there.”

“You did?” Joe frowned, and looked down at his boots. He could remember, with all the tenacity of a besotted youth, the day when Clay had promised to take him back to New Orleans with him. He glanced up and saw from Clay’s face that his brother was recalling that same promise, for Clay was biting his bottom lip thoughtfully. “And, and how did you get on there? Was everyone alright?”

“Things are different there now. A lot different. I left as soon as I could to get back to Nevada. I thought I’d surprise you but instead….” He gestured with his right hand, carving an arc in the air to express some emotion at having seen them at the saloon.

“Yeah, I guess that was a surprise, seeing us there.”

“Joe, things aren’t good down south just now. I couldn’t take you down there. And I didn’t want to get involved in things, so I shot back here as soon as I could.”

“You mean…you’ve been here before?”

“No, I meant, I came back this away, to get back to Nevada. I – er – I got married, you know.”

“I didn’t know.” Joe flushed a little then. “Married? To that girl who was draped all over you at the saloon?”

“No, no.” Clay laughed. “Heck, no. My wife is a lady, from Baton Rouge. Old stock like the de Maligny, Staffords, etc. I’ve known her since we were knee-high to crickets.”

“You never mentioned her before.”

“Didn’t I? Well, I guess that’s because she wasn’t very high on my list of priorities then. Her mother was an old friend of my, of our, mother. When I went back and I saw her…” He paused and a slight frown furrowed his brow.

“You fell in love with her?” Joe grinned and his eyes twinkled. Clay laughed, throwing back his head and laughing out loud with the same enthusiasm for laughter as his brother ever had. “I surely did!”

“And, so, where is she now?” Joe grinned again. “Is she here in town?”

“Nope, she’s traveling. Right now she should be on her way to Virginia City.”

“To Virginia City?”

“That’s right. I presumed that any welcome to me would include my wife as well.” He grinned at his brother and Joe’s expressive face lit up like a beacon with delight. “You’ll like her, Joe, she’s a beauty. Quelle magnifique!” He raised his glass and smiled at his brother and winked.

“What’s her name?”

“Alexandra,” came the prompt reply

“Alexandra.” Joe nodded and settled back against the couch. “Tell me about Mexico? Was there much fighting? What was Juarez like? Did you see him?”

“Of course I saw him.” Clay laughed again and leaned forward, “I’ll tell you what happened once…” Joe leaned back and listened as his brother told him one of his adventures on the battlefield, which wasn’t so much a battlefield as a scrimmage in a small Mexican village, as were all the others…

************

Adam glanced up from the plate of ham and eggs and surveyed Joe as his brother walked thoughtfully into the hotel’s dining room. Hoss, a fork of ham midway to his mouth, paused and looked over at Joe and smiled. “You were back late,” he observed kindly.

“I did say I wouldn’t see you until the morning”, Joe replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table.

“Have a pleasant evening?” Adam passed over the plate of ham

“Yeah…”

“Talked over a lot of things, I imagine.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“How many eggs do you want?”

“Oh, just two will do.” Joe frowned and stared at the eggs as though he had never seen one before in his life.

“What’s Clay intending on doing?”

“What do you mean?” Joe glanced up, his eyes narrowed as though unsure as to the true meaning of the question.

“I meant, what is Clay going to do now? Will he be traveling back with us or coming later?”

“He’s got things to finish off here first. Said he’d come later.” Joe surveyed his plate and smiled. “Hey, won’t it be exciting having Clay at home? There’ll be the four of us.” He paused then and sighed. “Do you think he’ll stay?”

“Do you?”

Hoss frowned and looked from one to the other. Then he picked up the coffee pot and poured his little brother a cup of the hot bitter brew and smiled. “Sure was a surprise! Who’d have thought we would have found Clay sitting in that thar saloon.”

“Yeah, when you think of all the other saloons we could have gone into…” Adam smiled over at Joe. “Are you alright, Joe?”

Such a question, so gently asked from his eldest brother, made Joe blink and he looked at Adam in surprise, “Yeah, sure I’m alright. I guess I jest can’t believe it, is all.” He grinned. “I woke up during the night thinking I had been dreaming. All the times I’ve hoped to see Clay again, and have him at home. My own brother.” He frowned thoughtfully, unaware of the pain that he had just caused his other two brothers who struggled to be generous and imagine for themselves the pleasure of their younger brother. “I hope he settles. Pa will be so pleased to have him back. It’ll no doubt remind him of Ma.” He put down his fork and shook his head. “Heck, I feel so tight. So kind of excited I can hardly breathe right. I wish Ma were here to see him home with us.”

Hoss glanced at his plate and frowned. He wondered just how Marie would have felt having a son return to the fold whom she had been denied seeing and about whom so many lies had been spun. It had been a heartbreaking relationship and one that had caused nothing but grief to all concerned -- to Clay’s mother, as well as to Clay’s father. He glanced once again over at Adam who was steadily eating through his meal as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Marie. Hoss pulled over a bread roll and broke it thoughtfully. He remembered when he was small and the first meal he had ever shared with her. He had been that nervous that he had spilled most of it down his lap, and when he had reached out for the bread rolls, the whole platter of them had tumbled all over the table and bounced onto the floor. He had leaned over to catch some and toppled off his chair, banging his head on the floor as a result. She had reached down instinctively and caught him in her arms and held him close and hugged him and told him, “It’s alright, mon cher, nothing broken. See, Mama will kiss it all better for you.” She had, and he could remember, even now, the sweet smell of her perfume, and the softness of her body as he snuggled into her. He could remember looking over at his brother and seeing the same shut-off look on his face as there was now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Joe said, nudging Hoss slightly so that the bread roll fell from his fingers and rolled in the direction of their elder brother who caught it deftly and returned it to Hoss with a smile.

“I was jest remembering….”

“Remembering what?”

“Your Ma.”

“Our Ma.” Joe frowned, always uncomfortable when distinctions were made between the mothers. Our Ma, your Ma, his Ma.” He smiled at Hoss then. “What about her?”

“Oh, just how sweet she smelled and how soft she felt when she cuddled yah.” Hoss lowered his face so that no one could overhear from the other tables. “She made Pa happy.” He glanced over at Adam.

Adam nodded and continued to eat his breakfast, but his mind wandered a little now. Yes, she had made Pa happy. He recalled the first time she saw the snow on the Ponderosa and how the lake had frozen and how she had insisted they go skating. He remembered how Ben had fallen on the ice. She had skated over to him and pulled at his hands and he had pulled at hers and she had slid down by his side so that the two of them had sat there holding hands and laughing. Then there had been snowball fight on the way back and the laughter. For a serious little boy like Adam Cartwright, it had been the laughter that had captured his heart.

He had gone to bed that night and remembered days of laughter with Inger. How he had loved to wake up each morning to hear her sing and laugh. Then she had died and the laughter had died too, until Marie had come and brought with her that gift. A gift passed on to her son, and he glanced over at Joe, smiled tenderly at him and nodded. “So what are you intending on doing, Joe?”

“What do you mean, Adam?” Joe replied, rather defensively

“Well, do you ride home with us or stay back here and come with Clay?”

The color mantled Joe’s face like a girls, and he laughed self consciously. “You mean that? Shucks, I was plucking up the courage to ask...if you’d mind…”

“Joe, whatever makes you happy.” Adam smiled.

“Yeah, Joe…whatever makes you happy.” Hoss repeated, but he didn’t smile. Something had touched his heart, and the tenderness there was bruised, just a little.

“Now, you’re sure you don’t mind?” Joe asked again.

“We’ll see you back home, both of you.” Adam smiled at Joe and extended his smile to Clay, who was standing by his brother’s side, looking handsome and smart in his dark jacket, white shirt and string tie. He struck out his hand and Clay took it, shook it warmly. “Take care,” Adam said, but his eyes looked into Clays and Clay nodded, knowing exactly what Adam meant -- take care of our brother. He gripped Adams hand tighter in acknowledgment.

“See you back home.” Hoss gave his little brother a friendly cuff on the shoulder and then shook Clay’s hand.

*********

Hoss turned to Chubb, took his leads and was about to mount into the saddle when there was a soft ‘ahem’ from the livery stable door.

The woman stood there dressed in a traveling suit with a carpet bag at her feet. She wore a small neat bonnet on her head, and although the hair was still too red to be real, it was smartly arranged and framed her face modestly.

“Mrs. Fleming?” Adam asked hesitantly from his position next to his own horse.

“Yes.” The woman took a deep breath. “Yes, Mrs. Fleming.” She stepped forward and extended her gloved hand. “I took a good look at myself last night. Not just in the mirror either.” She lowered her eyes and frowned. “I thought about what you said, about moving on.”

“Is that what you’re going to do?”

“Yes, even if you don’t let me have the money now. I want to make a new start.” She glanced up “I can still teach. It wasn’t that long ago that I gave it up to marry Harold. So I could get back to it easily enough. But, I needed someone to give me the necessary push. I could never do it here in this town.”

“So, where do you intend to go?”

“There’s a stage leaving for Guthrie this lunch time.” She looked up at him pleadingly and then shrugged. “I know it’s asking a lot but…”

“I understand.” Adam looked at her thoughtfully, and considered the situation for barely a moment. Everyone deserves a chance surely? He took the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I hope you get a lot of happiness in your life, ma’am.”

“I really, really promise you. I’ll do all I can to do the best I can. Thank you so much.” Rather shyly she stood on tiptoe to kiss Adam on the cheek before hurriedly picking up her bag and leaving the stables.

“You did the wrong thing there.” Clay said quietly from the corner of the barn. “She’ll go to the first saloon she comes to and drink the lot”

“I hope not,” Adam said as he put his foot into the stirrup and mounted up into the saddle.

“Millie Fleming and whiskey are synonymous,” Clay murmured.

“She seemed a nice lady,” Hoss muttered, pulling Chubb around so that he could mount up.

“You didn’t think so last night,” Clay said with a smile.

“People can change, given the chance,” Hoss replied and looked hard at Clay, who merely smiled and nodded in agreement.

Hoss rode slowly behind his brother out from the stables. People do change. He remembered when Clay had first arrived at the Ponderosa and Ben, urged on by himself and Adam, had a check made on the claimant of kinship. It had revealed a slightly shady past, and a death caused by an accusation of cheating against Clay. He had denied cheating, acknowledged the killing, and they had taken him on trust. He glanced back over his shoulder and felt another pang to the heart as he saw Clay give Little Joe a warm, close hug.

You have to trust people, Hoss told himself. It had been an adage that he had lived by all his life. He had to trust and always did trust; in fact, his ability to be too trusting had led him into some foolish enterprises in his life. Now he felt ashamed of himself because the one person he should trust now he just felt like holding back, saying, “Hang on, there. Summit ain’t right!” when, really, he should be welcoming Clay Stafford with open arms.

They passed a stagecoach on the way out of town. A woman with a worn carpet bag was being helped into the coach by the driver, and her smile as they passed was worth every dollar in that envelope. Millicent Fleming settled back against the seat and clasped her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. She had not even opened the envelope. It could have contained just one dollar or a hundred or a thousand. It made no difference now. She had made her decision, and when the stagecoach lurched forward, she wanted to throw her hat in the air and yell along with the driver. She just could not get out of that town quick enough! Away from the saloons and the whiskey soaked men. Away from the card sharps and the floosies who hung around them. Away from Millie Fleming…

**********

Ben Cartwright threw open the door as soon as he heard the sound of approaching horses. It had seemed to him a long month without the boys around and although the cable from Adam confirming details of the cattle auction had pleased him, the following wait had seemed never ending.

Hop Sing also ran into the room, looked at Ben’s face, saw the pleasure on it, and then returned promptly to the kitchen, knowing from long experience how hungry one particular Cartwright always was as soon as he returned home.

Ben’s smile wavered slightly as he noted the return of not three, but two, of his sons. The smiles on their faces and the pleasure that was obvious to anyone slightly reassured him, but even so, he ventured out onto the porch and was soon striding towards the stable where Chubb and Sport were being unsaddled and led into their stalls by their masters.

“Welcome home, boys!” Ben smiled and opened his arms in a gesture of welcome. “Er…where’s Joseph?”

“He’ll be coming home a bit later, Pa.” Adam pulled away Sports bridle and bit, and hung them on their customary hook. He glanced warily over at Hoss, who was leading Chubb towards a bag of hay. “We – er – met up with someone in Butlers Creek”

“Dr Fleming?”

“No, he’s dead; we met his wife, though, and gave her the envelope as she was next of kin.” Again Adam glanced warily over at his brother, who was now carefully checking over Chubb, running his large gentle hands down the animal’s forelegs as though to satisfy himself that his horse was really home safe and sound.

“You’ve not got much to say for yourself, Hoss?” Ben said quietly, having noted the glances Adam had cast his brother’s way. “Anyone would think you weren’t pleased to come home.”

“I’m sure enough pleased, Pa.” Hoss glanced up and grinned at his father, his blue eyes twinkling. “Hop Sing getting dinner ready?”

“He certainly is,” Ben smiled.

“Shucks, I’m so hungry I could eat a mule and its saddle.”

“Well, I’m glad that something hasn’t changed,” Ben muttered as Hoss breezed past his father towards the house, rubbing his hands in anticipatory pleasure.

“We – er…” Adam rubbed the back of his neck and screwed up his eyes thoughtfully as he surveyed the retreating back of his ‘big’ brother. “Pa, we met up with Clay”

“Clay? You mean Marie’s boy?” Ben looked at Adam with round eyes, near black eyes that suddenly seemed to darken even more so. “Clay Stafford?”

“Yep.” Adam shrugged. “By the oddest coincidence, we walked into the very saloon where he was…”

“Card dealing?”

“Mmmm!” Adam frowned and thought back to the scene of that evening and the way Joe seemed almost hypnotized by the sight of the gambler dealing cards at the far corner table. “Joe recognized him right away.”

“And that’s where Joe is now, with Clay?”

“He wanted to come back with Clay.” Adam paused and looked at his father’s face thoughtfully. “He was pretty overwhelmed, Pa. It was quite a shock for him, after all; Clay is important to him”

“I know, I know,” Ben reassured his son, and smiled thinly. “And was Clay pleased to see him?”

“Yeah, I reckon he was -- surprised, but pleased”

“And he was intending to come here anyway, was he?”

“So he said.”

“I see.” Ben frowned and glanced over to the house. “And what about Hoss? How does he feel about it?”

“What do you mean, Pa?” Adam pulled down a net of hay for Sport and stroked the animal’s soft nose affectionately.

“It seems to me that Hoss isn’t quite his usual self.”

“He’s tired, Pa. We did the last three days travel in two, you know.” Adam joined his father at the stable door and walked alongside him to the house. They walked in unison, their feet rising and falling together, two tall men who, despite the span of years between them, were bound together with an inseparable bond, not only of blood and love, but of purpose and quality.

“Hoss doesn’t mind Clay coming back here?” Ben turned to look into Adams face, the dark penetrating glance from the black eyes that warned Adam now was not the time to prevaricate.

“I don’t know, Pa; I guess we never got round to talking about it.” Adam glanced down and frowned thoughtfully, and then glanced up and smiled. “Anyway, let’s wait and see how things go when they come back.”

“So. There is a problem then?”

“I didn’t say there was.”

Ben said nothing to that, but growled deep in his throat and pushed open the door. Behind him, Adam was already unbuckling his gun belt and listening to the sounds of Hop Sing’s merry chatter as the Cartwright’s cook prepared the next meal with the sole ambition of pleasing Hoss.

Adam smiled to himself, hung up his hat and gun belt and strolled into the room. Ben was already at his desk, checking over some figures in the ledger; he glanced up with dark eyes at his eldest son and nodded. “So how is he?”

“Who?” Adam raised his dark eyebrows questioningly.

“Clay, of course!” Ben retorted sharply, perhaps more sharply than he intended for he cast his eyes back down to look at the ledger.

“Oh, I thought…” Adam glanced over his shoulder and then back to his father.

“I’ll talk to Hoss when he eventually emerges from the kitchen.”

“Well, Clay looked well, much the same as ever really.”

“Why’d he leave Mexico?”

“Juarez is President now, and after about 6 more months in the Mexican army, I gather Clay decided he was of no more use so decided to return home”

“Here, you mean?”

“No, he went back to New Orleans.”

“I thought he’d promised Joe that he would come back here.” Ben scowled, chewing the fleshy part of his thumb.

“Well, people promise things and situations change, Pa.”

“Clay is not people; he’s Joe’s own flesh and blood and he should have realized that when you make promises to your kin, you keep them.” Ben’s voice deepened a tone.

“Joe didn’t seem to mind, not as much as you seem to,” Adam replied, as he perched himself on the corner of the big desk and folded his arms across his chest.

“That’s because he’s got caught up emotionally and can’t see the forest for the trees”

“Oh, is that what you call it?”

“What do you mean?

“Well, Clay may have made a promise in good faith at the time, and he may have intended to honor it, in due course. But you seem pretty sore about it yourself?”

“Adam, when a promise is made…”

“I know, Pa. I know.” Adam straightened up and walked stiffly to his chair, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. He was tired and ached from the long ride home. They had traveled fast, both of them feeling the desire to get home as soon as they could, with neither of them being able to explain exactly why. But it had been hard going, and he longed to soak in a tub and eat a pleasant meal with his family and then sink into his own bed. He smiled at the thought of it, and then sighed, as he reminded himself he was in mid-conversation with his father. He sat down and stretched out his long legs and stared into the fire. “Clay isn’t a Cartwright, Pa.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Just that we can’t expect him to live by Cartwright standards when he isn’t a Cartwright,” Adam replied, his eyes fixed rigidly on the spines of the books that he could see in the book case.

“He’s part of this family,” came the instant reply.

Adam sighed and imagined his father clenching his fist as he spoke. He slowly shook his head. “He’s not a Cartwright,” he repeated.

“If he thinks he’s going to live here -.”

“Pa!” Adam turned to look at his father who was now standing up and staring thoughtfully and with creased brow into space. “Pa, if he chooses to live here as a member of the family, so be it, but it won’t turn him into a Cartwright overnight. Recall when he first arrived here and we had that check run on him? You told us that he had left home when he was a kid of 16 and had been traveling ever since, living by his wits and abilities as a gambler. Considering that kind of history, you seemed pretty much impressed by him that time. There were no high expectations from or of him, so why are you being so heavy about it now?”

Ben nodded thoughtfully and sat down in his chair opposite that of his sons; he stroked his chin for a while, stared into the fire and then nodded again. “You’re right, Adam. For a man who had to live by his wits for so long, he had good principles in the main, and I felt he was well intentioned. I guess it’s just seeing Hoss so, well, so distant and quiet. It made me wonder exactly what had happened back there.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Then,” Ben frowned and leaned forward, “I know Clay isn’t a Cartwright, but he is Marie’s son.”

“Sure, but he never lived with her and never knew the kind of standards and principles by which she lived, Pa. In fact, from what his grandparents told him, his principles were a darn sight higher than hers.”

“You’re right, again,” Ben replied after a pause that lasted long enough for his son to wonder if he had said a trifle too much. Such comments regarding Marie’s past were often occasions for a Cartwright explosion of verbal rhetoric. But Ben smiled gently and looked at his son fondly. “Adam, do you think he’ll settle here alright?”

“I don’t see why not. Given the chance,” Adam replied quietly.

“Well, as he is Marie’s son,” Ben repeated, “he has every right to that chance, and, by George, he’ll get it.”

The clatter of dishes and cutlery indicated that a meal was about to be served up and Adam quickly made his excuses so that he could clean up before the meal. He ached all over and wished that they had taken the journey a little slower. He could hear Hoss talking in a low voice to his father, and although tempted to return downstairs, he made his way to his room to refresh himself.

Hoss, meanwhile, was sitting astride the arm of once of the big chairs and listening to his father whilst his mind was drifting from one thing to another, and they always seemed to drift back to the one subject….Clay Stafford. “I’m sorry, Pa. What did you say?”

“Do you mean I have to repeat myself a third time?”

“Shucks, I didn’t hear you the first time, Pa.”

“Do you want to go and see Paul tomorrow, Hoss….to make sure you haven’t anything wrong with your ears?”

“There ain’t nuthin’ wrong with muh ears, Pa!”

“There’s isn’t? Then tell me, son, what is wrong?”

Hoss’ blue eyes widened and then narrowed; he looked thoughtfully at his father and then at the flames nibbling the logs in the fire. He sighed and stood up, rubbing his big hands up and down the sides of his legs. “Shucks, Pa, I don’t reckon on knowin’ muhself for sure…”

“Then just guess at it…”

“I jest bin feelin’ outa sorts, is all. Guess I need some of Hop Sing’s food inside of me.”

“Are you sure that is all, Hoss? It isn’t the fact that Clay’s coming here, is it?”

“Clay? Shucks, no, Pa.” Hoss frowned and then did an about turn and sat down opposite his father in the chair Adam had just vacated. “Well, mebbe a smidgin’”

“What’s worrying you, Hoss?”

“That’s jest it, Pa, I don’t know.”

“We’ve had others come and stay here, made them feel welcome, haven’t we?”

“Sure thing, and that’s rightly so, Pa; that’s how it should be alright.” Hoss nodded his head, and clasped his hands together, folding them in his lap as he did so.

“And you’ve always been mighty generous in that respect, son.”

“I don’t intend not to be generous even in this respect, Pa,” Hoss replied, looking intently at his father.

“But?” Ben leaned forward, his dark eyes looking fondly into the eyes of his son.

“But, well, Clay ain’t a bird with a broken wing, Pa, nor a hoss with colic, nor any sick dumb critter as needs help, is he?”

“No,” Ben said very quietly, smiling at his son who was desperately struggling to find all the right words.

“And he ain’t a stranger driven in for the sake of danger to his life, or because of loss of home or kin.”

“I guess not,” Ben’s smile wavered.

“The fact is, last time he came here we had that search done on him, right?”

“Right?”

“And he didn’t come out of it that well, if’n I recall rightly.”

“He’s had a different life style to you boys, that’s all,” Ben said quietly.

“Sure, I know that.” Hoss bit down on his bottom lip and stared at the logs by the fire.

“So, if you know that, do you understand that?”

“Sure I do.” Hoss frowned, and looked at his father thoughtfully; he mulled over and over what had been said, sighed and shook his head. “The fact is, last time he was here, Adam and I were so busy, we had no real time to get to know him. All we knew was that so far as Joe was concerned, Clay was the only brother he had that mattered.”

“Ah, I see.” Ben smiled slowly and put out a placating hand to rest gently on his sons arm. “Do you really think that Joe will stop caring as much for you if Clay is around?”

“Pa, as soon as Joe saw Clay nuthin’ else and no one else mattered; it was as though the world had ceased to exist and there was jest him and Clay Stafford . He couldn’t git rid of Adam and me quick enough.” He sighed heavily and clasped his hands together, almost it seemed in a gesture of desperate prayer. “Pa, Adam and I, well, we’ve all Joe ever had for years and years. It jest felt that as soon as Clay came on the scene all that was jest rubbed out and didn’t matter no more. It was jest Clay, because Clay’s Marie’s son, like he is.”

“Hoss, the bottom line is just that, Clay IS Marie’s first born and we have to accept that. We have to accept that Clay has as much right to Joe’s time and affections as either you or Adam. Time doesn’t matter in this respect, because all Joe feels just now is the bond of blood. Marie’s…”

“I know. I bin wrasslin’ ‘bout it all the way home. I guess I’m bein’ plumb stupid, and I’m ashamed too. I shouldn’t feel like this, because I’ve no right to judge Clay, which I guess, in a way, I am doin’. I did give myself a good talkin’ too, several times over in fact. Told myself I was jest bein’ plain possessive and jealous, like some stupid kid.” Hoss swallowed the lump in his throat and looked with moist eyes at his father. “Pa, I jest don’t want Joe to stop caring about us, about me, because I care about him so much. He’s always bin jest our baby brother and…” He stopped, and heaved a deep sigh.

“And change is always hard, Hoss.” Ben nodded. “I understand what you’re saying, but we adapt when we have to.” H smiled and gently squeezed Hoss’ hand. “You know, Hoss, when you’re at sea and the winds roaring and the waves are coming up at you in a big swell, and you know your destination isn’t really so far away, do you know what a good sailor has to learn to do?”

“Not be seasick?” Hoss replied with a slow grin

“No, he has to learn to tack. You see, Hoss, you can’t just go straight from A to B; it isn’t that easy. You go to port a little, and then to starboard, and so on and so on, until you eventually get to harbor.” Ben smiled and stood up as the smells of the food wafted towards them indicating that it was on the table ready to be eaten; he could hear Adam’s footsteps coming along the landing to the stairs. “It’s like relationships, Hoss; sometimes we have to learn to tack a little”

***********

Joe threw down his hat and looked around the large room. He had seen this room almost every day of his life but this time was different; this time he looked at it through the eyes of his brother, Clay. He smiled and his green hazel eyes twinkled as he turned to take in the proportions of the room, the warmth of the fire blazing in the hearth, the welcoming circle of chairs and the sweet smell of something good cooking that came from the kitchen.

Beside him, Clay glanced around him and frowned. “Seems no one’s at home,” he surmised shrewdly and he was right, for no one was at home.

“They’re busy, but by the smell of that cooking, they should be home pretty soon now.”

Joe stretched and flopped comfortably into the big blue chair and wriggled a little until he was quite at ease. “Sit down, Clay, make yourself at home.”

“Well, Joe,” Clay frowned and turned his hat round and round in his hands, “seems to me that …”

“Hey, this is going to be your home now, yours and Alexandra’s.” Joe took a deep breath as though he had accomplished something wonderful in the past few minutes and he smiled warmly. “HOP SING!”

A flurry of movement came from the kitchen area and Hop Sing appeared with a cloth in one hand and a dish in the other, his eyes opened wide in surprise when he saw the two young men in the room. “When you come back, Mister Joe?”

“Five minutes ago. Didn’t you hear us?”

“Too busy making hot roast pork for family…”

“Well, Hop Sing, you had better add another to the list for now. Remember Clay?” Joe tugged at Clay’s sleeve and brought him a few steps nearer to the cook. “My half brother?”

“I remember. Your father and brothers talk talk all time about him coming, not know when. You naughty boy, you not send time for family to be heah, no one know when you come.”

“Never mind.” Clay smiled his warm smile that, like his brothers, could charm the birds from the trees. “I’m here now, if that counts for anything.”

“Mebbe so. Now Hop Sing go make more pork, more potato, more bled!” Without another word, in English anyway, Hop Sing turned and made his way back to his kitchen.

“Consider yourself part of the family.” Joe grinned and stood up and headed for the stairs. “Are you coming?”

“What for?”

“So I can show you your room, that’s what for!”

“Shouldn’t we wait for your father first?”

“Look, Adam and Hoss would have told him you were on your way here; they’ve no doubt got a room prepared for you.” Joe shrugged. “If they haven’t, then I’ll get you a room.”

Clay glanced around the big empty room, sighed, then slowly followed his eager and younger brother up the stairs. They passed the rooms used by the family, the doors of which were all closed. Joe opened the door to his own room “In case you forgot, this is my room.” He smiled and Clay had a fleeting vision of a large pleasantly furnished room, before Joe ushered him along the landing and pulled open another door. “This will do for you.” Joe smiled and stepped into the room that had obviously been prepared for a visitor. He walked to the window and looked down at the yard, the curtains drifted slightly from the cool breeze that wafted through the open window and he pulled it further open and looked down. “Pa’s on his way. I can hear their horses.” He turned to Clay. “You’ll like this room; it gets the sun almost all day”

“I like it fine, Joe…thanks.” Clay nodded and dropped the carpet bag and valise by the bed. He sat on the bed, bounced up and down, and grinned. “Yep, the bed feels mighty comfortable, better than some I’ve been used to sleeping on lately.”

The sounds of the men talking together drifted upwards and filtered their way into the room. Joe turned and nodded. “Best get downstairs. I want Pa to see you as soon as he walks into the house.”

“Shucks, Joe, he’ll know we’re here; he’ll have seen the horses.”

“I know, but all the same…” Joe paused and looked at his brother thoughtfully. “You ain’t scared of meeting Pa again, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why have you taken root to the floor?”

“I was just thinking, Joe.”

“Then don’t think, Clay. Come on!” Making a grab for his brother’s elbow, the younger man hauled him from the bed and together they made their way downstairs.

Ben paused, glanced up and frowned, and then smiled; his dark eyes were warm and welcoming as he put out his hand towards Clay, which was taken and given a warm shake. “Good to see you again, Clay.”

“Thank you, sir. I hope you didn’t mind my taking you up on your invitation all those years back...”

“Not so many years back...” Ben smiled. “And I hadn’t forgotten my invitation, although if I had, I’m sure Joseph would never have done.”

Seeing Joseph now, Ben smiled and gave the youth a hug; it had been a long month without having the young rascal around the house, and he had missed him. Without Joe’s laughter and gaiety, the house had been very quiet.

“Let’s eat!” Hoss said, giving Joe and Clay a nod which he obviously deemed sufficient as a welcome. “I could smell roast pork miles off, and I sure hope Hop Sings cooked some of that special sauce of his.” Hoss paused, as though realizing that his welcome to Clay may well have been deemed not particularly warm. “You’ll soon put some meat on your bones, Clay, with Hop Sing cooking fer yer.”

“Not if he’s anything like his brother he won’t,” Ben chuckled. “Did Joe show you to your room yet, Clay?”

“He showed me a room; it looked like it had been prepared for a guest.”

“That’s the one…”

Adam hung up his black hat and gun belt, and looked thoughtfully at everyone in the room. Hoss had already disappeared into the kitchen, which was his custom, to make sure that Hop Sing had plenty of food and to taste a little of this and a little of that. Joe and Clay. Adam pursed his lips and raised his eye brows just a fraction. Joe looked as merry as a cricket but Clay…no one looking at the man would have said he looked particularly happy, or comfortable even. And Ben, well, he looked like a man desperate to tie all the loose ends together as happily as possible, apart from the fact that five humans were not exactly the same as a parcel or package that could be neatly tidied up.

Adam walked into the room and smiled at Joe and nodded at Clay. “No trouble on the way here, then?” he asked

“No, none, it was a good trip.” Clay extended his hand which Adam took and shook warmly. “How’s things here, Adam?”

“Fine; we’ve been checking over the fencing at the south ridge. Could do with extra hands tomorrow if you feel up to it.”

“That’ll be fine by me,” Clay smiled. “I don’t want to foist myself on you like some unpaid guest.”

“You won’t be.” Adam smiled. “There’s always more than enough to do around a ranch of this size, as you may well remember.”

Joe glanced at the two men and then over at his father and smiled. The one person he expected to treat Clay with diffidence was Adam, and here he was, treating Clay as he should be treated, as one of the family. Joe’s heart swelled with pleasure and delight, and he slapped Clay warmly on the back. With a laugh, he told Clay not to sound too eager to work; otherwise elder brother would make sure he was up before dawn.

They sat down around the big table, and Ben looked at them and smiled. Clay was a good-looking man. In some ways he was more like Joseph to look at than either Adam or Hoss. In too many ways he reminded Ben of Marie, although that was more reassuring than alarming, and he thought of his wife and wondered what she would have thought, to have seen both her own sons breaking bread, eating meat, sharing a meal, a home, together.

Ben glanced around the table, and paused as he saw Adam’s dark eyes resting on him. He smiled and nodded, and wondered momentarily what it was his son would be thinking at that precise point of time. He looked at Hoss who was pouring out some water into the glasses, and he wondered if Hoss was preparing himself for a lot of ‘tacking’. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and raised his black eye brows and then he said, “Perhaps now would be a good time to thank God for the safe return of the rest of our family.”

Joe sent a fleeting smile around the table; there was no doubting that having Clay home had added a new joy to his life. Adam glanced at Hoss; who merely nodded in acknowledgement. Together all four bowed their heads and listened to the words Ben addressed to the eternal Father of all.

***********

Days drifted into weeks. Every day was a busy one and every hour of each day was crammed with chores. After a month, Clay found his soft hands callusing and, although Hoss had said Hop Sings cooking would put meat on his bones, he found that the hard work wore off the fat. He rode range, helped clean out the water holes -- which he detested -- checked the fences and repaired them where necessary. He chased mavericks, branded calves and was taught the correct way to chop down trees. At night he could barely sleep for the aches in his bones and the weariness of his whole body, whilst his mind was as alert and sharp as a pin. After a month, he found he had developed a ravenous appetite which Hop Sing’s cooking could barely keep up with, and he also found that when he dealt out cards, in the privacy of his room, he was becoming clumsy.

“I need a break,” Clay declared one morning a he and Hoss rode towards the nearest line shack to get the tools for more fence repairs

“You’ll get one,” Hoss grinned

“When exactly?”

“When one comes along. This is a busy time of year. Come to think of it, most times of the year are busy.” He looked at Clay and frowned. “What kind of break do you mean, anyhows?”

“I mean jest a trip into town on a Saturday night would do me….for now!”

“You could go into town any Saturday night you’d like; no one was stopping you.” Hoss frowned. “You reckon we’re being too hard on you, is thet it?”

“No, of course not.”

“You know you ain’t no hired hand, Clay. You’re one of the family; that entitles you to time off to go to town, just the same as any one of us.”

Clay sighed; he didn’t want to admit to this never tired, never weary giant of a man, that, so far, every Saturday he had been so exhausted that he had not the strength to mount a horse, let alone ride it all the way into town. It had been a relief and pleasure just to relax and read a book, something that he had found he had in common with Adam, although their reading tastes differed. Some evenings Adam had brought out his guitar and played and sang some melodies that Clay knew and, having a good singing voice of his own and an ability to play the flute quite adeptly, the evenings had become pleasantly entertaining.

“I’m not complaining,” Clay said hastily

“’Course you ain’t.” Hoss smiled in a friendly manner at the other man

“Hoss? Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.” Hoss f