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 felt himself tensing up, wondering what the question would be, and what if he gave the wrong answer, and the harmonious equilibrium that everyone strove so hard to keep balanced was shattered

“D’you mind me being here?”

“Mind you being here? Shucks, why should I mind?” Hoss took a deep breath and shrugged. “You keep little brother off’n my back, for one thing, and you’re learning how to handle yourself with all the chores. That’s a good thing too”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question,” Clay said softly

“You cheat at checkers!”

“I do not!”

“Yep, you do! Jest like Little Joe.” Hoss grinned. “He’s bin cheatin’ from the time he first knew what a checker board was all about; I swear he makes up new rules every week.” Before Clay could say another word on the subject, he dug his heels into Chubb’s flanks and galloped down the slope towards where he could see Ben and Adam already toiling at the fence posts.

“Ah well,” Clay said to himself with a slight frown to his brow, “that told me.” Getting down from his horse, Clay stared off into the distance.

“A nickel for your thoughts”

Clay turned and smiled as Adam walked towards him; with a grateful nod, he took the coffee cup from the other man

“I was just thinking that I should have heard from Alexandra by now.” Clay frowned and glanced over at Adam. “I sent her a wire to tell her I was here. And she sent one back to say she was on her way, but that was a month ago now.”

“It’s a long trip, Clay.”

“She promised to send me word every week.”

“Well, what do you want to do about it? Do you want time off to go and find her and bring her here?”

“Do I have to ask for time off?” Clay’s lips thinned just slightly. “As a member of the family or as a hired hand?”

“I’m sorry; I guess that sounded rather…” Adam pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows pensively.

“It doesn’t matter. I can understand how you must be feeling”

“How do you mean, Clay?”

“Well, having an extra member of the family land on you, it’s quite a commitment, isn’t it? Another mouth to feed, less land for you.”

“What do you mean, less land?”

“Oh, your Pa hasn’t said anything to you then?”

“About what?”

“He was talking about my inheritance; as Marie’s son, he feels that I have a right to some of the Ponderosa, like Joe, Hoss and yourself.”

“Sounds fair enough to me,” Adam said quietly, although he felt a pang of resentment, not so much at the idea of Clay getting some land, but that Ben had not discussed it with him. In all the years they had lived on the Ponderosa, Ben had never kept anything back from Adam; any major decisions had been discussed with them all, as equal partners, as father and sons. He swallowed hard, and looked at Clay thoughtfully. “As a married man, you’d want some land and a home to take your wife.”

“I thought I’d be living here, with Alexandra.”

“Pa said so, did he?”

“He did.”

“Well, that’s settled then.” Adam gulped down his coffee quickly, quelling an upsurge of anger and searching through his brain for the logics of the situation in order to calm down again.

“Odd, isn’t it, me being here, with all of you.” Clay put down his cup, looked at Adam and smiled. Adam had treated him fairly enough, as fairly as any man could treat a stranger who claimed to be a member of the family, or one part of the family. “I was thinking last night -- I’m the only one here who never knew my mother.”

“I never knew mine either…nor did Hoss.”

“I know that, but you knew Marie.”

“True enough.” Adam picked up his cup, realized it was empty and put it back down with a sigh. “Does that bother you?”

“What was she like?”

“Hasn’t Joe told you?”

“Joe goes into rhapsodies about her. What can a kid of five remember about a woman like Marie? She’s something he remembers like we remember the first woman we ever fell in love with. I wanted to know your opinion of her.”

“That doesn’t necessary tell you what she was really like.”

“I know.” Clay frowned. “My grandparents painted quite an unpleasant picture of her; my father abandoned me.”

“He didn’t...”

“How come he was never around then? He went traveling around, came here, died here. I never saw him, never.”

“You left your grandparents home when you were 16, if I recall rightly.” Adam narrowed his eyes and stared at the horizon. “Why did you do that when they gave you everything you needed? They were wealthy, well established, gave you a good education, money, and such.”

“If you knew them as I did…” Clay’s voice was brittle, cold with resentment and suppressed anger.

“Well, your father only did the same thing, just that he left it longer.”

“Leaving a child.”

“Clay, your father wasn’t a man like you. In fact, I hazard a guess that had you stayed in New Orleans with your family, you would probably have become more like him. But you changed direction, sooner rather than later; as a result, you became your own man before they could completely mould you. Jean had to learn to do it when his emotions had been torn to ribbons and his confidence ripped to shreds.” Adam frowned and wished he could get himself more coffee; he looked at Clay. “Odd to think, I knew your father too.”

“Which is another advantage over me.”

“If that’s how you see it.” Adam shrugged.

“Why did he leave me behind?”

“Why should he have taken you with him? “ Adam leaned against the corral fence and looked at the horses as they milled about, then he looked again at the other man. “I reckon he was a good enough man. He was kind to Hoss, taught him to fish, of all things…He only ever wanted peace, peace of mind, peace to live as he wanted and he loved Marie. He always talked about her as though she were still married to him, which she was, of course, despite the lies that he’d been told. He loved her, and he loved you.”

“How do you work that one out?”

“Because he was always talking about you. He’d tell Hoss that he had a little boy just a bit older than him, and he’d tell me about this kid who was just a year or so younger than me. He told Pa that you were being cared for by relatives until he had his own place established. Pa had a lot of respect for him and was thinking of selling him a portion of land, but then he died”

“I never knew.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t have known; it was a long time ago and a lot of water has passed under the bridge since then. Pa felt obliged to go to New Orleans to tell Marie about her husband had Pa been told the lies about her, and that Jean and she were not – well – what he assumed them to have been, which was a happily married couple. Then I guess Pa would have just sent a telegram to Jean’s nearest relatives. Pa thought that Marie loved Jean as much as Jean had loved her.” He allowed his voice to drift away as his mind returned to the time when Ben had left home, alone and returned months later with a new wife.

“Did you resent her?”

“Who? Marie? Yes, at first. Sometimes it takes time to adapt to changes.” Adam sighed and shrugged. “Do you want to see where he’s buried?”

“Who?”

“Your father.”

Clay’s features twisted into a semblance of a grimace and he shook his head and then, as Adam turned to go, he grabbed his arm. “Yes, I’d like that.” he said very softly.

***********

Adam stood, arms crossed, and leaned against one of the trees that graced the small glade in which Clay’ father was buried. Out of respect for Clay’s feelings and of the situation as a whole, he felt it better that Jean’s son approached the grave alone, and spend what time he wished in respectful solitude.

He did not have to wait long, for after ten minutes, lay returned and without a word began to untie his horse’ reins from the shrub and lead her forward to be mounted. Adam took the hint and walked over to Sport and stepped lightly from the stirrup to the saddle. He glanced over at Clay’s face and wondered what the man was feeling, for Clay, unlike his younger brother, was far more adept at hiding his emotions from any onlookers, a skill he had honed to perfection as a professional gambler.

“You didn’t bury him with Marie?”

“Of course not. When we died, we had no idea that his wife would become a Cartwright.” Adam raised a cynical dark eyebrow.

“I understand; of course you couldn’t. But you didn’t bury him with the others. I mean, the other men you have buried on the Ponderosa.”

“Jean wasn’t just an employee, Clay. He was Pa’s friend. Like I told you earlier, your father was a very pleasant man. We buried him there because that was where he would go when he wanted peace and quiet, to read, to play his music, to sketch.”

“And you didn’t think of sending his body back to his relatives in New Orleans?”

Adam sighed heavily. “No, we didn’t do that because he hated his life in New Orleans. He loved it here. This was where he wanted to bring his wife and his son…had he lived that long and succeeded in fulfilling his dreams and his hopes. No one wrote and asked for his body anyway.” Adam frowned thoughtfully and glanced back over his shoulder to the copse they were riding away from. “I guess, in a manner of speaking, we became the closest to family he had. I think he wanted to prove to Marie that he would be a good husband to her once he had shaken off his family’s weaknesses. I don’t know, I’m only guessing. A boy of 9 doesn’t have that much discernment really.”

They rode on in silence for some time, each thinking their own thoughts about the man who had fathered Clay, and yet never been known by him. After a while Clay glanced over at Adam, at the resolute face, the broad shoulders, and he sighed. “Adam, do you believe in fate?”

Adam thought for a fraction of a moment and replied that he did not. “So far as I’m concerned, we make our own decisions and have to live with them. If I thought fate were a reality, then there would be no purpose in my life anymore, no control. I prefer to have control, rather than be controlled.”

Clay smiled slowly, and raised both eyebrows, which, like Joe’s, were extremely expressive. “I just thought that it was strange the way my mother and father are both buried on Ponderosa land and now I’m here; it’s like everything going a full circle. As though it were meant to be.” He glanced over at the other man. “But I guess you don’t see it that way?”

“No, I don’t,” Adam replied in a taut, rather abrupt, manner.

“Who owns that section of land there…” he paused, “…where my fathers’ buried?”

“It’s Ponderosa land,” came the rather curt reply

“Yeah, I know, but I also know that your Pa …”

“You’d best discuss it with him,” Adam said, abruptly turned Sports head and spurred him on to a gallop.

***********

“Clay told me that he had mentioned about my thinking he should have some land of his own.” Ben pushed the tobacco into the pipe and struck it between his teeth.

“That’s right.” Adam kept his eyes on his book and listened to the strike of the match, heard the flare of the sulfur, his father’s drawing in on the stem of the pipe. Slowly he turned a page. “Does Hoss know?”

“I’ve not mentioned it to him, nor to Joe. I thought it best to wait and see what Clay actually wants to do.”

“I thought he had decided to stay here as part of the family.” Adam knew the words were coming out as though through gritted teeth and wished they were not. He stared at the one word in the book until his eyes blurred.

“I just thought, his being Marie’s son and Jean being buried here, that their son should have some land of his own. Jean would have bought some land from us, you know, once he could have afforded it. Clay would have had it as his own inheritance from his father.”

“Well, Pa, it’s up to you and Clay I guess.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Why should I mind?” Adam turned another page and bit the inside of his cheek. ’Sure, I mind.’ he thought, ‘I mind because we sweated blood for this land. I mind because it was your dream and I had no real home for nigh on 7 years while we traveled in a broken-down wagon drawn by a broken-down horse from one town to another and from one settlement to another and we had nothing. I mind because I’m being small-minded and petty.” He stood up and sighed. “Sure, Pa, whatever you want. You know it’s alright by me”

“I thought you’d agree,” Ben said quietly, and leaned back in his chair and blew out a perfect smoke ring whilst his son mounted the stairs to his room.

***********

“Where’s Joe?” Adam glanced up and down the main street and finally looked at Hoss who was standing with his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the post supporting the Virginia City Bank.

“With Clay” came the reply and Hoss yawned. “Mighty quiet here in town today.”

“Where’ve they gone?”

“To The Bucket of Blood!”

Adam looked at his brother and shook his head. “Do you think that‘s a good idea?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know…”

“YOU don’t know? That has to be a first!”

Adam smiled slowly and together they walked down Main Street, crossing the road at the section that faced the saloon. Adam pushed open a door and the two of them entered the Bucket of Blood; through the murky gloom, they heard Clays voice

“I raise you five hundred!”

“I meet you and raise you another hundred!”

“What about you?”

“That’s okay by me….”

“Joe?”

“That’s fine by me too….”

Hoss shook his head and frowned; he looked at Adam and walked to the counter and ordered two beers. Adam joined him and together they propped up the bar, drank their beers, and watched as the game progressed. It was inevitable that Clay was soon scooping the winnings into his pocket. Joe looked a trifle crestfallen as he saw his hard-earned dollars swept in among the rest.

 Clay grinned and looked over to where Hoss and Adam stood. “Care to be dealt in?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye

“Nope,” Adam said, putting down his empty glass and picking up his hat, “I’ve things to do. So do you, Hoss.”

“Yep, I got things to do,” Hoss said and he frowned over at Joe. “So have you, little Joe.”

“I’ll be along soon,” Joe quipped and brought his chair closer to the table. “Deal me a hand, Clay.”

Adam turned as he neared the door and bit his bottom lip. They all gambled; it was part and parcel of life there. But not one of them was reckless with their money. Ben had instilled in them the policy that gambling was a fool’s game…you win some, lose most. It was the fear that Joe’s admiration of his brother would lead him to more recklessness than usual and from the set look on Hoss’ face, it was obvious he was thinking along the same lines,

“Well, I take it all back!” Hoss declared suddenly.

“What in particular?” his brother asked

“That it was mighty quiet hereabouts today….that’s some ruckus going on over at the saloon.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Not really.” Hoss gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Do you think we should go in and help?” Adam raised an eyebrow by way of emphasis to the request which he knew sounded rather half hearted.

“I reckon we should go and see if’n they need any help”

They stepped back in time to avoid a flying chair which was swiftly followed by Jed Mayhew’s skinny body which staggered through the doors, ricocheted off of Hoss and fell in a heap on the sidewalk. Both men stepped over the hapless being, and peered over the doors, ducking as a table leg flew their way and avoiding getting crushed against the wall when Joe staggered back into the door. Hoss helped him by giving him a shove back into the saloon.

“They seem to be managing well enough on their own,” Hoss murmured

“Yeah,” Adam drawled. “I reckon they’re holding their own pretty well.”

“Guess we might as well head back home for dinner.” Hoss muttered and turned away to return to Chubb.

“Sounds about right to me, Hoss.”

“Adam, Hoss!” A faint wail trailed behind them and the two of them paused in mid-step and looked at one another.

“What do you think?” Adam posed the question, pausing in mid-stride.

Hoss scratched the back of his head and glanced back in time to see Mayhew and Joe both tumble out of the saloon and land on top of one another in the street. He shook his head, and once again gave a slight lift to his shoulders. “Nah!” he replied. “I reckon they’re managing jest fine without any help from us.”

**********

The ice pack on Joe’s cheek was thawing rapidly and the bruise was swelling with equal swiftness. He groaned and moved the ice pack to another area and glared at his two brothers with all the venom he could muster through his one eye, the other being so swollen and multi-colored that it was merely a slit. “You could’ve helped us,” he hissed.

“What, and end up looking like you do and with the dance on Saturday?” Adam chortled and picked up a checker.

“You both seemed to be doing jest fine, Little Joe; didn’t seem right to interfere.” Hoss stared at the board and watched carefully as Adam placed down his checker; he smirked, narrowed his eyes and picked up a checker of his own.

“What caused the fight anyway?” Adam asked with his eyes on the board as Hoss hovered with the checker; first it was going to go, but no, it was better to go back to the original idea. Hoss placed his checker and sat back triumphant. Adam picked up a checker and promptly ‘jumped’ three of Hoss’ along the way,

“Oh, just a little disagreement,” Joe muttered.

“About what?” Ben frowned, looking at both of them with thunder smoldering in his dark eyes.

“Harry Mayhew accused Clay of cheating,” Joe replied.

“Is that right?” Ben glared at Clay

“It was a mistake on his part,” Clay said hastily. “But he was too hotheaded to listen and threw a punch, and then the whole place erupted. Seems to me folk around Virginia City must be so bored that any excuse for some fun will do and they all want to join in, well, almost all.” He cast a narrow-eyed look of defiance at the two brothers calmly playing checkers nearby.

Adam and Hoss glanced at one another thoughtfully. Adam scratched his nose and Hoss rolled his eyes and both reached for a checker,

“It’s my turn,” Adam said quietly.

“Shucks, I thought for sure it was mine.”

“Clay.” Ben stood up and approached the two battered brothers who stared up at him miserably “Last time you were here, there was trouble because of your card practices and Joe was hurt then.”

“I know; I recall that but this time was different,” the young man protested, looking earnestly up into the face of his benefactor.

“Sure, Pa, it was different this time,” Joe added.

“I wasn’t talking to you, young man,” Ben barked; he looked at Clay thoughtfully. “I don’t want you to make it a practice of going into town and gambling”

“Why not? It’s been my livelihood for years”

“It doesn’t have to be your livelihood now, Clay. As a member of this family I would prefer it if you did as I asked.”

“Note that,” Hoss whispered to Adam. “Asked’ not told or ordered.”

“Mmmmmm!” Adam took two more of Hoss’ checkers and smiled. “Your move, brother.”

**********

“So, what really happened to cause that fight, Joe?” Adam asked casually.

Joseph Cartwright gave his eldest brother a hasty glance from his one eye and shrugged, then proceeded to get busy with currying Cochise. Adam watched the curry brush sweep across Cochise’s flanks with swift sweeps of the younger man’s arm.

“I ain’t buying that story of Clay being accused of cheating. Jed and Harry Mayhew are two of the mildest men in town, and if they thought they were being cheated on, they’d just quit the game and keep their mouths shut.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joe mumbled and brought the brush down gently along the curve of Cochise’s neck.

“You know I‘ll find out anyway, Joe.”

“Why?” Joe turned to look at his brother, his hands defensively on his hips and his mouth taut with annoyance. “Why’d you want to go nosing into something that doesn’t concern you anyhows?”

“Because, Little Joe, anything that happens here, particularly when it concerns you or Hoss, concerns me.”

“And Clay?” Joe spat out the words through thinning lips.

“What about Clay?”

“Doesn’t it concern you when it involves Clay as well?”

“Oh, yes.” Adam turned and looked at his youngest brother with that annoyingly superior look on his face that always sent Joe’s blood pressure soaring to boiling point. “Particularly when it involves Clay as well”

“And jest what do you mean by that?“ Joe stepped forward aggressively, fists clenching and his nostrils flaring and Adam gave a cool smile and shrugged,

“What I said, anything that happens in this family -- and Clay is family after all -- well, it concerns me. And I want to know.”

Joe narrowed his eye (the other being completely closed now from the swelling from the bruises) and snorted, much like Cochise who gave him a little nudge as though reminding him that there was still the other side to do. “It wasn’t Clays fault”

“Ah, well, you would say that.”

“What are you getting at now?” Joe lowered his hand with the brush in it, as though tempted for a moment to throw it at his brother’s head.

“Just that that is the way you would see it, that’s all, and natural.” Adam smiled coolly and folded his arms across his chest, and leaned against the post of Cochise’s stall. “So, go ahead, explain.”

“Jed Mayhew was losing, and heavily, so Clay suggested that he quit the game and Harry said that seemed like a good idea but Jed said no, he wanted to win the pot because he intended to buy that prize bull calf of Mr. Hemming’s. Clay said if he carried on like he was, he’d have no money left to buy himself a coffee bean and Jed said he didn’t have to listen to any darn Johnny Reb tell him what to do.”

“Jed said that? That’s pretty aggressive for Jed. I’ve never known him talk or act in anyway except quiet.” Adam frowned. “Any reason you can think of to make him talk like that?”

“No,” Joe flushed a little pinker and turned his back on his brother and resumed grooming the horse. “Harry told him to quiet down and Clay said it didn’t matter, but that jest seemed to rile Jed more and he told Clay that he should be back south where he belonged.”

“Is that what caused the fight?”

“Clay said, in that case, why didn’t Jed get off his backside and go fight for the ‘good cause’ but he laughed as he said it and the next thing Jed swung at him.”

“Something must have happened to have triggered Jed off like that.” Adam frowned and watched Joe for a few minutes in silence. “Joe, why didn’t you tell Pa this?”

“Clay said not to.” Joe sighed, and gave his brother a sidelong glance that was more than a little sheepish.

“But you told Pa a lie.”

“No, I didn’t,” Joe said hotly “Jed was losing...it could have happened like we said.”

“But it didn’t; you should have told Pa the truth.”

“Clay said that Pa had told him that there was to be no talk of the war at home.” Joe glared at Adam hostilely. “Probably to spare your feelings.”

“You know that’s not the case, Joe.”

“No, I ain’t sure that’s the case. Pa told Clay what he’s told us -- save talk of the war outside the Ponderosa, no matter how we feel."

“That policy works if we keep to it, Joe, if we all keep to it,” Adam replied softly, although inside he was fighting to control his words, knowing how easy it would be now to react and set off this volatile youth which would create the very situation that all of them had been struggling for weeks to avoid.

Joe said nothing to that, but gave his brother an exasperated look and walked to the horse’s left, which he now began to groom with slow sweeping movements of the curry comb.

Adam stepped forward and put his hand gently on his brother’s arm. “I do understand how you feel, Joe,” he said softly. “And you know you can always come and talk to me about anything at all, like before.”

“Before what?“ Joe snapped.

Like you always had,” Adam said quickly, realizing he had dropped a gaffe that Joe was not prepared to let pass.

“Before Clay came you mean?” Joe lowered his arm and stared at his brother angrily. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? It’s Clay, isn’t it? Do you think I go running to him with all my problems now, is that what it is?”

“No, but…”

“But what?”

“But whichever way we try to tiptoe around the fact that Clay is here, we have to accept that there have been changes to the status quo.“

“What?”

“The way it used to be has changed, shifted, and I just wanted to let you know that whatever way you feel, I’m still your eldest brother, and I still care just as much about you as ever I did. So if you have any problems. I’ll be there for you, that’s all.” Adam raised his hands as though suing for peace and smiled, but Joe’s lips thinned and Adam knew that there was nothing left to be said, that perhaps he had already said too much.

Adam turned and walked to the door, stroking the soft velvet noses of the horses in the stalls as he passed them, and at the doorway, he turned and glanced over at his little brother who was pretending to be engrossed in his horse grooming. Adam sighed and without another word walked to the house.

“Everything alright?” Hoss asked as he stepped inside. “He’s okay, ain’t he?”

“Sure, he’s fine.”

“What do you think, Adam? About that story they told, about that ruckus in town?”

“What do you think, Hoss? Didn’t you believe them?”

“Nah, Jed and Harry are as mild as can be. I reckon you could rob ‘em blind and they’d jest assume you were doin’ it in their best interests. Beats me why they have to play in the first place; they allust lose. ‘Turn the other cheek Mayhews, that’s what they’re called in town.”

“I know,” Adam sighed heavily, and glanced at the door as though expecting to see Joe standing there, simmering, knowing that his actions were being discussed by his brothers.

“So, what happened? Did Joe tell you?” Hoss’ blue eyes widened as he waited for Adam to reply.

“You heard what they said happened, Hoss.” Adam walked to the high backed chair and sat down; he picked up the book that he had left on the table and began to read.

Hoss sighed, and ambled over to the window and stared out into the lengthening shadows as night fall settled over the Ponderosa. “Things have changed, Adam,” he said softly, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“They don’t have to, if we work at it together; things can change back again, to how they were before.”

Yeah, ‘if’.” Hoss sighed, as though the likelihood of that happening were very remote.

**********

Sam the bartender took the money, checked it over thoughtfully and then smiled. “Thanks, Adam. There wasn’t as much damage done as has been in the past. You know the Mayhews; ain’t the fighting type. It was the rest of ‘em caused most harm, and Joe and that friend of his’n.”

“You mean Clay Stafford?” Hoss said, leaning on the counter and watching as the saloon staff continued to clear away the debris of the previous days fight.

“Yeah, that’s the one, the gambler. I recall him before, some years ago, caused trouble then, if I recall rightly.” Sam squinted into a glass which he held up for cleaning and then began to polish it vigorously. “Rumor has it that he’s some relation of your’n. Is that right?”

“Kind of,” Hoss muttered. “So what caused this brawl this time? Joe lose too much, huh?”

“No, nuthin’ like that, although he lost enough, that’s for sure.” Sam leaned onto the counter conversationally, his elbows planted squarely in its center. “Jed and Harry were losing, as usual, although they had won some earlier on in the game, but that was before Stafford got involved. Suddenly, out of the blue, Jed called Stafford a Johnny Reb and the next thing I knows fists are flying every which way,” He shook his head. “Folks here keep their politics close to their chest, as you know. That way there ain’t no trouble; even the school teacher don’t do the oath of allegiance no more, to spare the consciences of some kids there. You know how it is, Adam? Hoss? Fact is, if’n you try and suppress feelings, they sometimes jest git to pop out under pressure. I guess, Stafford being new in town, things got outa hand.” He shrugged and looked over at the saloon girl who was checking over the piano. “Lost four teeth.”

“She did?” Hoss gulped in sympathy. “Was that Joe’s fault too?”

“Shucks no. Old Toby landed right on top of her.”

“He did?” Hoss’ eyes widened and he looked at the girl again; a slight little thing, it was a wonder she was still able to walk.

“The piano. He meant the piano.” Adam chuckled and picking up his hat he walked, still chuckling, out of the saloon.

“Hey, Cartwright!”

They turned and watched as Harry Mayhew hurried along the sidewalk towards them, waving a skinny hand to draw their attention. Both brothers paused and waited for the older man to catch up with them, both noted the bruised nose and thicker than usual lip, but refrained from saying anything.

Mayhew drew them to one side, against the wall of the mercantile. “You heard about the fight?”

“We sort of saw some of it,” Hoss said quietly, feeling quite relieved as he thought back to the previous day and that he and Adam had actually chosen to walk away from it.

“I’m mighty sorry about it, mighty sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. Jed’s pretty sore about it too, in more ways than one,” He grinned, showing a gap where a tooth had once been not too long ago. “He was out of order, Jed, I mean. He shouldn’t have said that about Stafford being a Johnny Reb, even if it is true; after all, he isn’t the only one of them in town.”

“So? What caused it? It’s not like Jed to lose his temper,” Adam said quietly

“You know where we hail from, Adam, Hoss. We came to Virginia City to get our fortunes, and not done too badly at that, but also to get out of fighting. We got family, close family, fighting on both sides. Do you know how it feels to see your brother walk outa the door of your home a-knowing that next time you see ‘im may be on a battlefield, him wearing grey? Jed and me, we thought we’d avoid all that kinda thing. Perhaps we’re cowards, perhaps we should have stayed and fought back home, but there’s too many killing their kin. We didn’t want that on our consciences and I don’t care how many say that it’s hardly likely; the question would always be there, wouldn’t it? The ‘what if’ chance.”

“Go on, Harry.” Adam shifted his weight and leaned against the wall, and surveyed the man’s worried face sympathetically.

“Well, to cut a long story short, we were hoping that if we made enough money we could pay to get our family here as well. Then we got a cable on Monday to say that there’d been a fight right where our family house stood.” Mayhew paused, lowered his head and heaved a deep sigh, as though struggling to keep his emotions on an even keel.

“And?”

“Well, it ain’t there no more. Casualties of war, that’s what the cable called them. Confederate troops.” He gulped and his Adam’s apple jerked involuntarily; he bit his bottom lip, “So we decided to put the money to buying Hemming’s prize bull calf instead. Stafford was whistling a tune under his breath, probably not even aware of it, like we do sometimes. Jed just couldn’t take it; he thought Stafford was goading him, kinda, but you could tell he wasn’t doing it a-purpose.” He struck out a hand. “No hard feelings, huh, Cartwright?”

Adam nodded and shook the proffered hand, as did Hoss. They stood together for a while as the sun baked down on the sidewalk and watched the older man hurriedly walk away.

“Danged war,” Hoss hissed under his breath.

Adam nodded, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun which beat down against the whitewashed walls of the mercantile. “Let’s go home,” he said quietly. “Somehow the thought of knocking in a few fence posts seems pretty agreeable just now.”

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

Ben Cartwright shifted in his chair and surveyed the four younger men thoughtfully. He had spent the afternoon with Clay, riding around the area of land that he had felt the young man would have liked to possess. It had good grazing land, the timber grew quite thickly on the hills that ringed it to the south and the views were magnificent as they overlooked Lake Tahoe. Clay had reacted with moderate pleasure, a polite and agreeable companion, nothing more. It had left Ben with a feeling deep in his heart that something was not quite right, and when he overlooked the four of them, the mood certainly seemed to compound his misgivings.

Joe was restless. He felt as though all his energies were being suppressed and that he needed something, or someone, to release them. He sat down, and within minutes, needed to stand up and prowl around the room, or stab at the logs. He could not settle in his mind to play checkers with Hoss who sat in his chair looking miserable, passing a fistful of checkers from one hand to the other in that way which meant nothing to him, but which, by the constancy of the action and clinking sounds they made, slowly drove everyone else there to the limit of endurance.

Joe suddenly did a half turn and strode over to Hoss and slapped his hand so that half a dozen checkers flew in the air and landed in several different directions. “Do you have to do that? You’re just about driving me crazy doing that,” Joe cried, already feeling ashamed of himself at the startled expression that had fallen across his brother’s face.

“Shucks, I’m sorry; if it was so annoying, you should have said earlier.”

“What’s the point? You would’ve jest kept on doin’ it!”

“No, I wouldn’t, Joe.”

Adam glanced up from his book and frowned over at them. “Keep the noise down.” he muttered

“And who asked you to poke your nose into it anyways?” Joe snapped

“I only asked you to keep the noise down, although knowing you so well, I should have known better than to ask,” Adam snapped back in return.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Take it any way you want.”

“Are you wanting to pick an argument, Adam, is that it?” Joe clenched his fist and strode over to his brother, who calmly closed his book and looked up at Joe and raised his chin as though challenging Joe to strike just there.

“Joseph?” Ben’s voice was like a deep throated growl and Joe hesitated, lowered his fist and glowered at Adam, and then at Hoss, who just shrugged as though used to seeing his brother throw a tantrum.

Adam opened his book and resumed reading, every so often glancing up over the rim to survey the group there.

Ben took up his pipe and leaned back in his seat. “What’s going on around here that I’m not being told?” he asked as he calmly poked tobacco into the pipe bowl.

“Nuthin’” Hoss looked at his father with innocent blue eyes and a blank expression on his face.

“Joseph? You seem to be so full of hot air, so why not release some of it right now – calmly.” Ben frowned darkly at his youngest son, picked up the matches and glanced over at Clay who was watching the proceedings with interest, almost with amusement touching the corners of his mouth. “Clay? Do you know anything about all this?”

“I’ve been with you all day, sir,” Clay said swiftly, then he glanced over at Adam. “Although I did get to hear that someone had been to town checking up on me.”

“What do you mean? Checking up on you? What’s that supposed to mean?” Ben barked, lowering his pipe and glaring over at Adam, who put down his book with a sigh and shrugged.

“All I did was go into the Bucket of Blood and pay for the damages, as we usually do,” Adam replied calmly.

“Oh yeah, and while you were there you had to go and poke around about what happened, didn’t you?” Joe hissed, jabbing his index finger in Adams direction

“I was there too.” Hoss muttered.

“Yeah, so you’re jest as bad,” Joe snapped, whirling around at Hoss and darting a black look in his direction.

“I didn’t have to poke around for information, Sam volunteered it, so did Harry Mayhew come to that,” Adam said quietly.

“Yeah? I’m supposed to believe that, am I?”

“YOU can believe whatever you like!”

The two brothers stared into each other’s eyes. Joe’s green hazel eyes were greener than usual with anger and mortification, whilst Adams brown eyes were darker and showed a determination in them not to back down. Usually when Joe saw his brother’s eyes growing increasingly dark and stubborn, he either wisely backed down or foolishly rushed in where angels would fear to tread. He was about to proceed with the latter when Adam rose up as though prepared to take on his little brother there and then.

“It does seem a shame that you couldn’t take our word for what happened,” Clay drawled. “Back home. We would take that as an insult! You calling me a liar and such.”

“No one was calling you a liar,” Adam said in a very level, calmly cold voice.

“But it seems to me…” Clay began but Ben’s voice intruded with a demand to be told the facts and for everyone to calm down and be quiet.

“Joseph, sit down and be quiet. Clay, what exactly are you talking about?” Ben glared over at Adam as though to indicate that he was not going to get off the hook that lightly either.

“That little fight we had at the saloon yesterday, we gave a perfectly good reason why and how it happened. Seems Adam didn’t believe us…” Clay darted a hostile glance in Adams direction.

The older man frowned and looked over at his father. “Seems odd a man should prefer to be thought a cheat rather than tell the truth,” he said quietly.

“I’m neither a cheat nor a liar, Cartwright.”

“Yeah, well, it’s easy to see you and Joe are brothers; you both get too hot under the collar too quickly.”

“Coming from you, that’s a compliment.”

“Take it any way you like.”

“That’s enough.” Ben slammed his fist down on the table and both men stopped and turned.

Without even realizing it, they had stepped closer to one another, squaring up as though about to come to blows. Hoss stood up slowly and took Adam’s arm, drawing him back towards the chair, while Joe stepped towards Clay, standing so close that their shoulders touched.

Ben swallowed the lump in his throat. Even in this instinctive pairing off, his family had shown the yawning chasm that could so easily lay before them, swallowing up years of peaceful harmony and brotherly comradeship. Four young men stood facing one another, two against two, faces set and eyes brittle and hard. It was as though a line had been drawn along the floor to divide them off as decisively as any battle formation. He stood up and walked between them, taking Adam and Clay by the arm, and drawing them closer in towards him, as though needing desperately to rub out the division between them. “Let’s talk this over as family should,” he said very gently and smiled at all four of them.

Each one resumed their seat and sat down. Hoss picked up several checker pieces and looked at them forlornly. He loved his brothers passionately. He would die for both of them. Yet today, he had sided with one against the other in a way different from previous brotherly squabbles; this one went deeper because -- and his blue eyes filled with tears -- because his baby brother had stepped to the side of another brother -- not Adam, nor himself -- and it smote at the gentle heart bitterly.

“There’s really no problem here, Pa,” Adam said in his reasonable matter-of-fact business manner. “Sam and Harry both acknowledged it was not Joe or Clay’s fault. Jed just blew up, that’s all.” His voice faltered.

“Why did Jed just blow up?” Ben asked, as though the possibility of either of the Mayhew brothers ’blowing up’ was as remote as Hoss going on a fast.

“He’s had some bad news about his family and it upset him,” Adam said in such a lame manner that even he was disappointed at himself; he bit his lip and glanced over at Clay and Joe. “That’s all.” Oh, for his book that he could hide himself behind its pages. The whole thing was like Pandora’s Box and. thanks to Ben, it looked like everything was destined to be pulled out and examined to the nth degree.

“He called me a Johnny Reb,” Clay said stoutly, thrusting out his chin as though prepared to take whatever was coming.

“And that caused the fight?” Ben asked reasonably.

“Not exactly, well, I suppose it did. He threw the first punch,” Joe declared.

“He had just heard,” Hoss said very quietly, “that his family had been killed by Confederate troops in a skirmish on their land back home. He couldn’t, couldn’t, hold back.” Hoss frowned, “It was grief talking, that was all; he meant nuthin’ else by it.”

“I didn’t know that; I’m sorry,” Clay said in a contrite manner.

“No one told us,” Joe murmured.

“He thought you were trying to cause trouble when you started whistling, or humming, some tune,” Hoss continued. Clay and Joe looked at one another without comprehension for a moment or two before Clay nodded.

“I see. It’s an old Creole song; I’ve known it since I was a child. I didn’t intend to sing it as a means of identifying myself with the Confederacy. I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“What? To identify yourself as a Confederate?” Adam declared sharply.

“No more readily than you would a stubborn boneheaded Yankee,” Joe immediately yelled, jumping to his feet in defense of his brother.

“Joe, don’t you push me too far,” Adam growled, his eyes darkening and his lips thinning while a flush of color mantled his dark skin.

“Is that what you are then?” Clay said coolly “A boneheaded Yankee?”

“That’s quite enough.” Ben grabbed at Joe and pulled him back to his chair at the same time he gave Adam a warning glance from under his dark eyebrows “I’ve warned you time and again; the war gets left at the Ponderosa boundary line. It doesn’t come into this house, do you hear me?”

“Why not?” Clay immediately asked, his own eyes blazing now.

“Because this is a family, and as a family, we work together, and we stay united, regardless of what’s going on outside. This is one family that is not going to be destroyed by the hatred of civil war. Whatever principles you stand by, all well and good, but don’t air them here.”

“I’d have thought the best place to air one’s ‘principles’, as you call them, would be in the bosom of one’s family,” Clay murmured. “Now you all seem to think I’m for the Confederacy, don’t you? Is that because I’m New Orleans born? Is it because you assume anyone born in any particular state must be this or that? Is it not possible for a person to be singularly neutral? How about you, Adam? Whatever your principles are, they don’t appear to be ones you hold particularly strong, not strong enough to move yourself out of this comfortable rut of yours. And you, Hoss, what about you? Or are you content enough to stay where you are and not give a thought to the thousands dying in this country of yours? And what about you, Joe?”

Joe gave Clay a puzzled, confused look and then looked at Adam and Hoss, and then at his father.

Ben nodded. “Alright, if that’s what you want, Clay. Let me ask you this. Why risk your life to fight in Mexico and yet not commit yourself to the Confederacy, or Union, whichever side you profess to uphold most dearly to your principles?”

“Have you never been to Mexico then? Haven’t you seen the poverty of those people?”

“Poverty doesn’t recognize borders, Clay,” Adam murmured. “You don’t need to go far from here to see abject poverty, either; the only difference is that the people come here with the hope of finding something better.”

“Hope. That was the key thing, you see.” Clay smiled slowly. His face lost the angry look that had sharpened his features; they softened as he spoke. “When Juarez declared against the Spanish regime, he gave his people hope for the first time in generations, and hope gave them courage and eventually it gave them victory.”

“For how long?” Adam asked. “A generation? A few years? For as long as Juarez can hold the people together? And do you think Europe will stand by and let him get away with it? I shouldn’t wonder if there isn’t another revolution in a few years, when Spain or France will want to grab Mexico back again.”

“In which case I’ll go back and fight for Juarez or whoever his successor is.” Clay shrugged as though the problem was not insolvable while he was around to step in and take his place in the rank and file of the Mexican army. “But here, this war…“ He frowned and sat back and looked at Joe, who was watching him expectantly. “There’s no glory or glamour in such a war as this, and when it’s over and the victory has been won, it won’t matter who the victor, the loser will be the country. Economically, the south will be ruined, maybe the north too, and hatreds will run deeper than rivers of blood. That’s why I wanted to come here, with Alexandra, and live with hope of a decent future.”

“You’re a Union man then? You declare for the Union?” Joe said in amazement

“No…I declare for neither and yet for both, if that makes any sense at all.” Clay frowned. “I can see good sense in some of the policies of both sides, and I can see the stupidity of some other policies as well. I guess, if there were a third party, then I’d declare for that.” He frowned again and looked at them all; their earnest faces, their eyes on him, made him feel embarrassed. He stood up and walked over to the fireplace, and he stood for a while, staring at the logs in the hearth. “I’m not a coward.”

“No one said you were,” Hoss replied quietly

“I never could accept the principle of slavery. A slave is a slave, whether the master is good or bad. A slave is a man or woman or child that is nothing more than the belongings of another man, or woman, and who gives anyone that right, to own a human being as though they were nothing more than a package to be disposed of at their owner’s whim.”

“I agree; I think we all do,” Adam murmured.

“But I am New Orleans born. I have family there and friends, black and white, and I would defend them against anyone, whatever color their uniform, should I have to do so.”

“We would do the same," Hoss said, looking down at the checkers in his hand thoughtfully.

“After we were married, Alexandra and I,” Clay leaned forward, his hands clasped between his legs, and his eyes downcast, “her father came to me with the commission of an officer in the Confederacy in his hands. It was his wedding gift. He had paid for me to be an officer.” He shook his head and gave an odd tremor of a laugh. “I thought he was joking, but he was deadly serious. I have friends in the northern states, people I worked along with, people I respect and admire. Some of them were like family to me, more so in some ways.”

“Is that why you left?” Joe asked

“I guess it was. In Mexico, I fought for the principle of freedom.” Clay paused and shook his head. “Anyway, that’s enough of me talking; perhaps we should have talked about this before, I shan’t mention it again.” He scratched his head as though trying to gather his scattered wits together again. He smiled somewhat sheepishly and looked at them, then he extended his hand to Adam. “No hard feelings, Adam?”

Adam stood up and smiled, he took the proffered hand and smiled, “None at all, Clay,” he said in reply.

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

“No news from Alexandra?” Joe asked Clay, as he saw his brother’s face droop with disappointment when the letters had been handed out and none given to him.

Clay shook his head and looked at his brother anxiously. “I’m getting really worried, Joe. I don’t know what to do right now. I don’t even know where she is.”

“Do you think she could still be at Baton Rouge with her family?”

“It could be possible. She may have gone back to them.”

“Have you contacted them to find out?”

“I didn’t want them to know where I was.” Clay frowned. “Her father’s a very wealthy, prominent person.” His voice faltered a little and he sighed. “What if something’s happened to her? It’ll have been my fault, Joe.”

Joe sighed, shook his head, and glanced over at his father, who was reading a letter of his own at the big desk in the study area of the large room. Hoss was outside shoeing some of the horses and the sound of the blacksmith’s hammer could be heard as a distant clanging, so rhythmic and regular that it sounded like the overloud tick of clock. Clay looked at the small photograph of the woman he had married and sighed as though his heart were breaking.

Joe felt impotent in his abilities to help. “I wish there were something I could do,” he said looking fondly at the man who sighed as though his heart were breaking.

“I’ve racked my brains,” Clay muttered. “The only thing I can think of is going back.”

“If you go back to New Orleans, I’ll go with you.”

Clay shook his head and looked up at the earnest young face that was looking so anxiously down at him. The green hazel eyes were large with anxiety, and the handsome good looks of the youth mirrored his own pain, the generous mouth, usually parted in such smiles, were now turned down at the corners in consternation. He put out his hand and gently pressed his brother’s arm before standing up, still shaking his head. “I’d never forgive myself if you left here because of me.”

“You’re my brother, Clay. I should be with you when you need me.”

“You have brothers here who need you, Joe.”

“No, I don’t think so; anyway, they’ve had me kicking around all my life. Time to share out a little.” Joe grinned, but his eyes remained somber as he looked at his brothers set features.

“No, Joe, there’s just too much going on down south right now, and if anything were to happen to you, how could I ever face your father again?” Clay took a deep breath and was about to speak when the door opened with a crash.

“Special delivery for Mr. Clay Stafford,” Adam said with a smile and his hat rather askew on his head. In his arms he held the sleeping body of a young woman who had her head resting against his shoulder, and her arms around his neck. “She’s just about exhausted, fell asleep on the way here,” he explained as he walked into the room towards the large couch. He glanced over at Clay and raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Hey, I thought you’d be the first to snatch her away from me.”

“Funny. My legs just turned to water,” Clay said in a voice that trembled with emotion. His eyes filled with tears as he lurched forward toward where Adam was gently setting the young woman down upon the cushions. “Alexandra…Alexandra…” he cried and fell on his knees by her side; he took her hands in his and rubbed them gently and kissed them and held them against his cheek. Then he put his hands to his face and bowed his head so that it was buried in the folds of her coat and all they could hear was his voice saying over and over again, “Oh, thank God, thank God.”

“What happened? How did you find her?” Joe whispered to Adam as they drew aside to give Clay and his wife more privacy.

“I didn’t find her. She found me.” Adam smiled, took off his hat and walked over to the bureau where he placed his hat and gun belt. “I was outside Cass’ when the Overland went by and Sally Cass said that the stage was later than usual. Which it was. I thought that it could just be possible that the books I had ordered would have arrived so went to find out.”

“And she was there?” Ben exclaimed.

“She must have been told I was a Cartwright, because as I approached the stage coach, she walked right up to me and said “You’re a Cartwright?” and then she just introduced herself as Alexandra Stafford and said she believed her husband was staying with us. I got her things and put them in the wagon and drove straight home. She fell asleep on the way here.”

“Did she tell you what had caused her delay? Clays’ been out of his mind with worry,” Joe said, his eyes straying to the sight of Clay and Alexandra.

“She got delayed in one town because the Union had taken over the railway and she had to stay in that town for ten days before they would release a train for civilian passengers. Apart from that it was pretty straightforward. At least I think so; she fell asleep in mid-sentence.”

“Is she pretty?” Joe asked

“You’ve seen her picture, Joe.” Ben smiled.

“Yeah, I know, but…”

“She’s pretty.” Adam smiled slowly and gave his little brother a sidelong glance. “Mighty pretty for a New Orleans gal.” He chuckled then, and gave his brother a playful push which made Joe laugh.

“I have to go and tell Hoss.” Joe whooped and ran from the room.

Alexandra de Fries Stafford was tall and slender, with thick curling chestnut hair and unusually grey eyes. She had skin like porcelain, a slim nose, generously wide lips, and a stubborn cleft chin. She was not beautiful but she was unusually attractive. There were certainly far more beautiful women around but when she entered a room, it was she that everyone paused to stop and look at, and admire. She had the indefinable quality that made men rush to her aid, take her elbow, offer her gifts. She was enthusiasm and energy combined and was in so many ways like Marie Cartwright that Ben’s world was momentarily turned upside down.

And like Marie, she had the quality of loyalty, for she had given her heart to a man she adored and for whom she had left behind culture, family, friends and servants and riches. For Clay Stafford, she had shown courage and fortitude and perseverance, and when he held her in his arms and told her how much he loved her, she knew he meant every word of it, and that everything she had sacrificed for love of him was more than worth it.

True to his promise, Ben Cartwright provided Clay and Alexandra Stafford land and property. A home was built for them close to the borders of the Ponderosa, so that they became the Cartwrights closest neighbors, as was fitting for family after all. In the years to come they had children of their own, happy to play with their cousins over the way on the Ponderosa.

So this was really Clay Stafford’s story after all. How he found his family, and how they found him. It is, and was, a happy ever after story, for them.

*****End*****

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