Chapter 1
The three horses strode in unison as the trio made their way down the empty streets of Virginia City. Nobody was outside at this time of day, or in this weather. It was scorching hot, and humidity making the day unbearable and the occupants of it snappish and short tempered. The three Cartwright brothers were no exception, and as they lazily made their way down the street each chose to happily ignore one another. Joe, and Hoss stopped at the Silver Dollar, but Adam continued to make his way down the street, his hat pulled low and shoulders stiff.
Hoss and Joe acknowledged his departure with nothing more than a shake of their heads. Pa had sent Adam into town on business anyway, and they had only come because Ben wanted them out of his hair, and for a nice cold beer.
Slowly Adam walked his horse down the street until he came to the low hanging sign projecting out into the street that read, Official Offices. Stepping down off of Sport and onto the boardwalk he lazily walked over to a side staircase slinging his saddlebags over one shoulder. He ran right into a man as he rounded the corner and was momentarily thrown off balance.
"Sorry, Adam," a polite young voice said apologetically as he steadied the Cartwright. "I guess I wasn't watching where I was going. My mind seems to be miles away at the moment."
Pushing his hat up with one finger, Adam glanced at the sorry smile of Andrew Fill. Carefully Adam offered a smile back.
"Never mind, Fill, I wasn't paying much attention myself."
With a final pat and nod of his head Andrew started away down the street. Leaning on the corner of the building Adam watched him go, then turned and bounded up the stairs, two at a time and entered the door at the top with a sign next to it reading,
Taylor Law & Cattle, Co.
No one really knew what the Co. stood for as Mr. Taylor wasn't a corporation, but Adam figured that he had done it to sound important, and in more ways than one was he correct.
His hat easily fell into his hands as he entered the stuffy office, and upon entering he sensed a tension in the air. Pushing past the low swinging door into the secretary's office he proceeded to the main office as the door was laying wide open.
"Follow that man! Don't let him out of your sight!" Adam heard Mr. Taylor bellow to his man Thorp as he stood placidly behind the desk.
"Yes, sir," Thorp quipped as he ran from the room nearly running into Adam.
"Sir, do you think that's wise?" Taylor's secretary asked.
"It's none of your business!" Taylor snapped and sat down picking up a piece of paper. "Get out of my sight!" Taylor waved him away and the secretary turned and started form the room.
His eyes fell on Adam, standing just inside the door, and his face paled. "Sir…" he began hesitantly.
"What do you want!" Taylor snapped his eyes shooting to his secretary.
It was then that Adam stepped fully into the room and he allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. "Mr. Taylor, my father sent me here to see you on some business, I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?"
The whole atmosphere of the room suddenly changed and with a stern look at his secretary, Mr. Taylor stood and extended his hand. "Not at all Mr. Cartwright! Please come in and take a seat, I'll be happy to help you with whatever your father is in need of."
The door gently shut as the secretary left and Adam settled into one of the two Vinyl Captains styled chairs that were stationed in front of the desk. Placing his hat in his lap, and dropping the saddle bags onto the floor, Adam pulled out the papers his father wanted looked over, and watched Taylor examine them.
Letting his eyes drift back to his hat, Adam toyed with it as the room fell quiet. His eyes then went to the line of windows, adorning the outside wall of the room, which had been thrown open in hopes to catch a breeze. The office was hotter than the street below and Adam wondered how Mr. Taylor, who was dressed in a suit, took the heat.
"There," the man said, smiling as he stood, startling Adam from his thought and causing him to swing his eyes back to Taylor. "Shall I file these for your father?"
"No," Adam stood his hand reaching for the papers. "They need to be signed."
"Very well," Taylor handed them back and sat down in his chair. His shrewd eyes watched Adam, replace the papers, as he lazily used a letter opener to pick at his nails. An old habit that had never died.
"Tell me, why's Ben changing his lumber contracts this late in the season?" Taylor asked casually, as Adam stood.
"In truth, Mr. Taylor, he's not. I am," Adam said, his eyes falling somewhat testily on the man before him.
"Oh I see." The letter opener was replaced on the desk and Mr. Taylor sat forward slightly. "And why would you be changing your lumber contracts this late in the season?"
"Because I find that the old contracts no longer apply to the demands that were signed upon in the agreement, thus I have chosen to alter the contracts with the approval of the buyer. Is that satisfactory?" Adam asked, as he cooked his hat back on his head and picked up his saddlebags.
"Yes," Taylor smiled. "That is very satisfactory."
"Good." Coolly Adam wheeled and left the office heading back down the stairs and mounted Sport.
Benjamin Taylor walked to the window and parted the lacy certain watching Adam ride back down the street, a long frown on his face. Taylor was a medium built man well into his forties with thick blond hair that he kept carefully oiled and combed back. He was married, only had a son that lived in California, who Taylor had never cared much for and had hoped to never see again.
Walking back to his desk he passed his wall of books that sat directly behind the desk adding importance to the drab office. Picking up the letter opener again he sat for a few moments contemplating the conversation and angrily he slammed the letter opener back on the desk.
He couldn't say why, but something about the Cartwrights irritated him, Adam most of all. Why it was him, Taylor could not say, but he had a great dislike for the eldest Cartwright. Shaking his head, he grabbed up the papers on his desk and went back to reading them with a contemptuous frown.
Andrew Fill slowly pushed the doors open to the Silver Dollar and moseyed on up to the bar.
"Whisky," he muttered to the bartender and flipped a coin onto the counter. Downing the contents of the glass set before him he pushed it back on to the bar and flipped another coin. The bartender began to fill his glass again, but Andrew reached out and grasped it with a mumbled, "I'll keep the bottle."
Quickly he filled his glass again and shot it off again and was filling another when a familiar voice called his name.
"Andrew! Andrew Fill! How you been?"
Slowly Andrew turned and smiled at Little Joe. "Fine, you?"
"Why I've been great!" Little Joe was half standing as he waved Andrew over to the table he was sharing with Hoss. Taking up his bottle Andrew walked over smiling at Joe.
"Hoss, you remember Andrew?" Joe looked at his brother, whose face lit into a big smile.
"I sure do," he offered his hand to Andrew and the two shook heartily before Fill sat down.
"What have you been up to lately? We haven't seen much of you around," Joe asked.
"Oh, nothing much. Been busy I guess. You? How are things at the Ponderosa?"
"Fine. How's your grandfather?"
Andrew shifted in his chair and his face fell. "That old man," he spat. "Never did care three straws about me. I can't wait to see the day that he kicks the bucket!" he downed his drink and reached for the bottle filling his cup again.
Casting a glance at Hoss, Joe shifted uneasily. "What's the matter with the old man?"
Andrew sat up hurriedly and leaned in close. "I've lived with that man for ten years, worked his place, kept his accounts, and saw to it that he was close to the richest rancher in Virginia City. I've killed myself a hundred times over making that ranch, and I've given most of my life to do it. Now, I ask you, don't you think I should be getting something in return for all my faithful years?"
Passing another glance at Hoss, Joe smiled. "I think you're entitled to something."
"Yeah? Well my grandfather don't. He's taken me out of the will and left me with nothing!"
"What?" Joe and Hoss said in unison.
"Now Andrew, I don't think your grandfather would ever do something like that…" Hoss began good-naturedly.
"Save it Hoss, he did and I know he did. Went and had a look at the will myself, today."
The brothers glanced at each other again and remained quiet for some moments as Andrew nursed his glass frowning about the room.
"What made him do that?" Joe finally asked, softly.
"On account of my ma. He never did like it when my father remarried and he liked it even less when she had a son, and he hated it when they both up and died on him leaving me in his care." Andrew's face had grown sour. "Well I tell you, I ain't going to let no grandfather of mine stop me from getting what's mine!" He filled his cup again and sat back glaring at the table.
"Andrew, surely that ain't the reason your grandfather done―" Hoss began.
"Yes it is!" Andrew yelled, but lowered his voice as the other occupants of the room turned their heads. "And do you know who he's giving the money too?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "My stepsister!"
"You mean Julia?" Joe crocked.
"Yup. He's left her with ever red cent he's got."
"That's not fair!" Joe cried his temper heating.
"Tell me about it. My grandfather always liked my father's first wife, and he blamed my ma for her death."
"I had no idea," Hoss mumbled, and Joe's face grew red with anger.
"Why that no good snake!"
Andrew nodded. "My mother didn't even know pa's first wife. But grandfather said it was on account of my pa liking ma better, that pa's first wife died of a broken heart. Did you ever hear anything more ridiculous? And that Julia! All she does is spends money and sends home the bills."
"I thought Julia got married?" Joe asked his face puzzled.
"She did," Andrew replied, giving Joe a sideways glance. "But apparently her budget is higher than her husband can afford, and since grandfather views her as a god, he pays all her bills."
"Oh," Joe sat back in the chair his eyes on the table. "But it still isn't right for him to not leave you with anything! Why Andrew, you practically own that ranch!"
"I know," Andrew snapped and finished off the whisky bottle. "And I intend to have it out with the old man, tonight!" He stood and marched back to the bar leaving the Cartwrights in hushed silence.
Slowly Joe turned back to his beer, his eyes flaring. "Well," he finally started. "I don't think it's right for Sir Edward to treat his grandson in such a way. Andrew built that ranch and I don't see why anyone wouldn't let him have what was rightfully his."
"Now Little Joe, don't go gettin' yourself all worked up. I'm sure after Andrew talks with his grandfather they'll get it all worked out. But c'mon, there's Adam."
The two Cartwright brothers rose and met Adam just as he was dismounting. "All finished?" he asked without looking up from the cinch his was tightening.
"Yup," Hoss replied.
"Let's go." Adam swung back up onto his mount and started down the street as Hoss and Joe hurried to catch up with him.
"See Andrew Fill?" Adam asked casually to Joe.
"Yeah, came in the saloon, had a drink with us."
Adam nodded. "Nice boy." He pulled his hat low and spurred Sport into a trot hurrying for home.
Noisily, Andrew mounted up the stairs and entered the door to his ranch house, an hour out of town. He had stayed at the Silver Dollar until way past dark, and he was now incredibly drunk. Stumbling into the house he laughed happily and sang ever so loudly. He pulled his hat from his head, and when his eyes fell on his grandfather he tossed it at the old man with gusto.
"Well pop," he slurred, taking a step or two forward. "What do you think of your stinking grandson?"
The old man stood in his dressing gown, his face set as stone with a deepening frown on it. He said nothing and made no move toward Andrew.
"Oh, I see, you're too good for me. Can't even hand out an insult cuz' you're afraid it'll dent that perfect public figure of yours." Andrew said, his temper growing. "Well, let me tell you something, you ain't half as good as me."
"Go to bed Andrew," Sir Edward said, softly.
"Bed, oh, now you're trying to send me to bed!" he looked about and smiled. "I think that's a right smart idea, I am rather tired." He started for the stairs got halfway up them and stopped with a giggle then came back down. "No I forgot, I was gonna inform you of that will you had me go inspect today. It don't meet with my approval and I don't like it. But I guess that's kinda what you wanted me to find, ain't it?"
"Andrew, I will not talk to you while you are in this fashion." The old man turned his back. "Go upstairs and get some sleep, we'll talk about this in the morning."
"No, we'll talk about it right now!" Andrew spat.
"Go to bed Andrew. I do not care to talk to you right now."
"I do!" he stormed across the room and gripped his grandfather's shoulder turning him to face himself, but as Andrew moved the old man, something made contacted with his head and he fell to the ground. Looking up again at his grandfather some moments later he observed a poker-stick in the old man's hand.
Edward knelt next to Andrew. "Now that you've had your say for the night, I want you to go upstairs and get to bed. We will review your conduct in the morning." The old man rose and started away, and for a few seconds Andrew sat dazed but with a sudden surge of anger he lunged to his feet and threw himself at the old man pulling them both to the floor.
Being as drunk as he was, Andrew was no match for the old man, and as he fell to the floor Edward quickly got out of his grasp and repeatedly struck Andrew in a sudden bust of violence that had weld up within him. Down came the poker as it struck the victim and scrambling went Andrew suddenly terrified of his grandfather. He placed his hands in front of his face and he got to his feet shouting words of apology as he tried to quell his suddenly viscous grandfather. Nothing would appease the old man however and he continued to strike at Andrew chasing him about the room.
In a final attempted to defend himself, Andrew ripped one of the two Radaelli Sabers off the wall and began to fence his grandfather about the room. The two were evenly matched as they moved furiously around. Andrew was drunk and not up to his normal par, which would have put him at a disadvantaged had it not been that his grandfather was fighting out of vengeance, causing him to lose all sense of the normal coolheaded man.
About the room they went, irons clashing and feet moving swiftly as Andrew tried to disarm his grandfather and Edward tried to get another whack at his grandson. Their fight continued for less than a minute before Andrew had his grandfather cornered and he plunged his Saber into the old man. Time stood still as the poker clattered to the floor and the old man's face lit with horror as he slid down the wall. Andrew's face grew pail as he watched. He fell to his knees scooping the old man's head in his arms, unsure what to do.
"Grandfather?" he stuttered, worry etched into every line of his face. "Grandfather? Are…Are you alright?"
"Get away from me, you scamp!" Edward whispered his head limp in his grandson's arms.
"I didn't mean…I mean I never meant too…" His voice trailed off as his eye filled with tears.
"I know full well what you intended…" he wheezed suddenly. "Get out of my sight!"
"But―"
"Git! Do you hear me! I don't want to see you anymore! Go away!" His grandfather cried aloud as he lamely pushed himself away from Andrew and fumbled for the poker again.
It occurred to Andrew that he was doing more harm than good, so scrambling to his feet he fled out of the house and to the barn, with shrieks from his grandfather following him the whole way. Andrew didn't stop to think until his was up in the hayloft buried in the hay. He then glanced down at his apparel and noticed that he was covered in blood, some of it his but most of it his grandfathers. The sight appalled him and he cried out. Hurrying form the hay he descended the latter and walked back to his horse, which was still saddled, and pulled a whisky bottle from his saddlebags. It was then he realized he still had the Saber in one hand, that was also coated in a fine layer of blood. Totally revolted at the sight was he, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes from it, nor could he bring himself to put it down as he sat in the barn and downed his sorrows in the bottle of whisky.