An Unspeakable Dawn

ooooooooooooooooooo

When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age.
Victor Hugo

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Chapter One

oooooooooo

Joe Cartwright slowly closed the door behind him, careful not to make a sound. He didn't want to disturb the man within the room he had just left, who was finally sleeping. Shifting to the left of the doorjamb, he leaned his back against the wall and let the tears fall.

A moment later his knees went to jelly.

With all the strength he had left – which was about as much as an newborn pup – Joe stumbled across the hall and fell into the Chippendale chair pressed up against the wall beside what had once been the door to his oldest brother's bedroom. Joe's hands shook on the well-polished arms as he righted himself and then dropped them and his head between his knees in a valiant attempt to remain conscious.

It had been so close.

So close.

One second, one heartbeat less – one blink of his unseen God's eye – and his father would have been dead.

Dead.

Pa. Dead.

Dear Lord...

A too familiar hand landed on Joe's shoulder, startling him. He hadn't heard the door click open. Didn't hear the footsteps follow him across the hall.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

The curly-haired man looked up into Paul Martin's haggard face. Even though the aged physician had turned most of his practice over to a younger doctor, Paul had come at his request. For the last three days, within the walls of his ailing father's room, Pa had waged one of the greatest battles he had ever faced.

Maybe the greatest battle.

"What can you do for me?" Joe echoed, his voice ragged with exhaustion. "You can promise me Pa will be okay."

Paul's lips did that thing they'd done so many times when his father had asked the same question about him – pursed and turned down slightly at the corners.

"You know I – "

"Yeah, I know you can't make that promise. It's up to God and Pa." Joe hesitated and then a wry smile curled his lips. "Just don't go tellin' me he's 'young and strong'."

Paul smiled too – a weary smile of relief and caution. "Now if we can just convince Ben of that."

He'd tried. Oh, Lord, how he'd tried! They were several men down due to a sickness that had swept through the bunkhouse a week back. Jamie was gone at school. Griff was Heaven only knew where, and Candy wasn't back from the cattle drive. Adam didn't exist anymore and Hoss, well, Hoss... Joe's eyes flicked to the his father's door again.

If Pa had died that would have been it. It would have been only him.

A sudden sound at the end of the corridor made both men turn toward the stair. Joe blinked back tears to clear his eyes as a small dynamo rounded the corner aimed straight for him, reminding him that he was not alone – that he would never be alone.

Doc Martin's pale blue eyes lit with delight.

"Ah," the older man said, "the best medicine."

Joe started to rise, but he didn't make it to his feet before he was driven back into the chair by twenty-two pounds of love. Ten grubby fingers reached for his face. Two found the trail of tears on his cheek. A pair of eyes, wide and green as his own, blinked as eight other fingers reached for the silvery curls that dangled near the collar of his shirt.

"Don't cry, Papa," the little boy said.

Another voice followed a moment later – soft, out of breath. "I'm sorry, Joe. I couldn't stop him. I'm not exactly moving at full speed right now."

Joe looked up at his wife. Her blonde hair was askew and her lovely face powdered with flour. One hand rested on her back and the other on her expanded belly that held their next child, who was due within the month.

Bella Carnaby Cartwright was just about the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Next to Eric Benjamin Cartwright, that was, who was squirming in his arms and trying to get down, obviously terrified that the 'real' set of pants in the Joe Cartwright family had caught up to him.

Doc Martin chuckled at the scene. When Joe looked at the older man, he was shaking his head. "Divine justice," was all he said.

Joe looked down at his first child, at the boy's tousled blond curls and those puppy dog eyes that were working to assure him that he was holding an angel and not a naughty little boy who had disobeyed his mother and run up to Grandpa Ben's sick room when he'd been told he was not allowed.

As he ran his fingers through his son's curls, Joe sighed. "Yeah..."

"Joe, why don't you take your family and go downstairs? I'm sure your father will be asleep for some time. He's very weak. Ben won't wake up any time soon –"

These were the times when Joe knew where his ornery, stubborn streak came from.

His pa had just called his name.

Bella hurried over and snatched Eric up. With a quick kiss, she said, "I'll be in the kitchen with Hop Sing." His wife looked down at their little boy who was nuzzling up to her now that he realized he wasn't going to feel her hand on his rear end. "So will this one. That is, if I decide to let him help bake the cookies after he did exactly what he was told not to do."

Eric blinked. "Papa needs cookies too," he pronounced as he held out one of his fingers, offering the gooey dough that lingered there.

Joe kissed him again and replied, "If you don't mind, punkin, I think I'll wait 'til they're cooked. You be good for your ma, you hear? I'll be down in a few minutes."

Bella leaned in as best she could and nuzzled his cheek. "I'll be waiting."

Joe drew a breath as he watched his very pregnant wife walk toward the stairs. He waited until he heard her reach the ground floor and head for the kitchen before letting it out – only to find Paul Martin watching him.

"Still waiting for the other boot to drop?" the older man asked, a little too astutely.

"What do you mean?"

Paul's hand returned to his shoulder. "Joe, I can feel it in every muscle in your body. You have to let go. You can't spend every waking moment waiting for a tragedy. If you do, you will miss the joy of the day."

His older brother vanished. Hoss, dead. His first wife murdered, burned...worse...with their child still inside her; him struck blind, tortured by a madman... Pa'd told him it was all because God loved him; that the Almighty couldn't use a man greatly until He had wounded him deeply.

Joe sighed. It was either that or God hated him.

"Joe..."

"You better go to your father, son. Ben doesn't need to be agitated. There's still a long road of recovery ahead."

Joe pursed his lips. He nodded, sniffed, and wiped the remnants of tears from his eyes – which made Paul laugh. The older man touched his shoulder affectionately. "Like your father doesn't know they were there," the doctor said.

Joe laughed too as he headed for the door. Opening it wide, he stepped inside and stood for just a moment, listening to the steady if still shallow sound of his father's breathing. He knew, of course, that Pa would pass one day and most likely before him. It was the curse of being the youngest son. He might well outlive all his family, which would be an irony since everyone had been fairly certain he would break his neck before he made thirty. And yet, here he was. Both Hoss and Adam were gone. No one knew if older brother lived or not. Adam's letters had stopped coming somewhere close to three years ago and had been sporadic for the two before that. Pa always said that God supplied what you needed when you needed it. He'd come to accept and believe that over the last so many years. He'd lost Hoss and that was something he had never dreamed of or thought he could make it through. Not too long after that the Almighty had sent Bella back into his life.

The rest, as they said, was history.

"...Joseph?"

Wow, hearing Pa's voice sound so weak was like a blow. Joe drew a breath to steady himself and then crossed to the chair beside the bed and sat down. Reaching out, he took his father's hand. Once so firm and certain, his grip was faltering.

Pa was getting old.

"Joseph? Is that...you?"

Leaning in, Joe ran a hand across his father's slightly fevered brow and brushed his hair back, unconsciously repeating a gesture the older man had used with him for years.

"Yeah, it's me, Pa. How do you feel?"

There was something. Kind of a chortle. "Paul tells me...I'll live."

"But you're not so sure?" Joe asked, forcing a cheeky grin.

His father snorted. "Not sure I want to. Damn steer..."

Joe sucked in air, not only at his father using a curse word, but at the image the older man's words evoked – Pa, waist deep in water, pushin' at a stubborn steer like he was sixteen instead of sixty-four. It had seemed such a small inconsequential thing. The steer's hoof had caught Pa's leg, breaking the skin. Befouled water had entered the wound. Pa'd started feelin' badly and then collapsed at the supper table with Bella and Eric looking on. Eric had begun to wail and reach for 'Gappa' even as Bella bore their boy toward the kitchen and Hop Sing. Doc Martin had been called. The wound was infected and the infection was as stubborn as the Devil. Like a cancer it had spread through Pa's body, taking him down. Just two days before this Paul had told him he believed it was hopeless. Pa's fever had spiked. He'd been out of his head, yellin' first for Hoss and then callin' for brother Adam. A shudder ran through Joe as he remembered the moment when the decision had been made to pack Pa in ice. At his age, it was a terrible risk to take. The cold could have stopped his heart.

It didn't. Pa was here.

Pa was alive.

"Now don't you go blamin' that steer, Pa. He didn't have the sense to get out of the water."

The older man's eyes were watery and weak. Humor began to dry them out.

"Like I...should have?"

Joe sat back in the chair. He shook his head. "Pa knows best."

His father was silent for several heartbeats. "I'm sorry, son," he said at last. "I...should have...thought of you. Don't want you to...be...alone."

There it was.

Everyone knew he wasn't good at it, no matter how much he'd protested most of his life that he wanted to be.

"You'll outlive me, Pa," he said, wanting it.

His father's chocolate-brown eyes fastened on his green ones. That feeble grip grew firm. "Never," he said.

Never.

"Joe?"

Joe closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh. He had to remember it was true. Even if Pa, Adam, and Hoss were gone, he wouldn't be alone.

He had Bella and Eric.

With a bit of a smile, he turned toward her. "What is it, darlin'?"

Bella crossed to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She was like that. She needed the touch as much as he did.

"Candy just came back. He says he needs to talk to you."

Joe frowned. "About what?"

His wife shook her head, sending her golden curls flying. "He didn't say. Just that it was important."

"You...go, boy," his father said. "I'll be fine."

It had taken him a while to figure out what the Cartwrights were the best at. It was lyin'. Each and everyone of them had honed the art to perfection. It was the only way to keep the others from worryin'.

Or to try to.

"I'll look after Pa," Bella said as she ran her slender fingers through his curls.

Finally Pa had a daughter. It tickled him no end.

"Go...Joe. Take care of what you have to," Pa said. "I'll be fine."

That made him snigger.

That was his line.

"Joe," his father ordered, sounding more like himself. "Don't keep Candy...waiting."

Good old Pa. Business was business. And it had been his business this last few weeks, keeping the ranch shipshape and runnin'. Candy had helped no end, but it had shown him what he would be up against when... Joe glanced at his father.

When the inevitable happened.

Rising, Joe leaned in and planted a kiss on his father's forehead, just like the older man had done to him so many times when he'd been ailin'. Then he turned to Bella and caught her by the waist and drew her as close as he could and kissed her with a passion born of the knowledge of close loss.

"I love you, Mrs. Joe Cartwright," he whispered into her hair.

"I know," Bella answered with a smile.

Joe turned back and caught his father's hand. "I'll be back soon, Pa," he said.

"Take...your time. My new nurse...is...easier on the eyes."

That made him laugh. He was laughing still as he started down the steps and headed for Candy Canaday where he waited near the front door.

Candy's face wiped the smile right off of his own.

"You look awful," Candy said in greeting.

Joe eyed their foreman from top to toe as he ran a hand through his unruly curls. Candy was covered in trail dust and looked like he'd given sleep a miss the night before.

"You look worse," he responded in kind.

"No. No. You definitely win. The red eyes..." His friend paused. "Should I count the bottles in the liquor cabinet again?"

It was their way and he thanked God for it every day. Candy wasn't his brother, but he was about as close as it got.

"They're all there," Joe answered, all mock-seriousness. Then he smiled. "Still, I don't see anythin' wrong with counting." He blew out a long breath. "I could use a drink."

Candy's clear blue eyes went to the staircase. His thoughts traveled on up it to the bedroom at the top. "How is Ben?"

"I can answer that," Doc Martin said as he came around the corner from the kitchen. The older man's black jacket was covered with little handprints made of flour. He noticed Joe looking and grinned. "I told Hop Sing I would lend him a hand while Bella went upstairs. Eric thought I needed a new one – a few new ones!" Paul moved to join them near the door. "But to answer your question, Candy, Ben is still a sick man, but he's on the mend."

"That's good news."

"Yes, it is." Joe flinched as Paul turned that 'look' on him – the one that said he knew the Cartwrights all too well. "Joe, I need you to keep Ben in that bed for another day or two at the very least. I know he's going to say he 'feels fine', but don't you listen. Do it! He's not getting any younger, in spite of what he thinks. Stubbornness will only take a man so far before it takes him too far!"

Joe was all too aware of the consequences of disregarding Doc Martin's warnings. He'd done it often enough himself.

"Will do, Doc. Bella will sit on him if she has to."

"Is that a remark concerning my present weight, Mister Cartwright?"

He whirled to find his wife standing behind him. "Pa...?"

"Asleep. I came down to get some broth and coffee for when he wakes –" A sudden wail rising from the kitchen caught their attention. Bella shook her head as she looked at him. "I thought boys were supposed to take after their mothers."

He slipped his arm around her back and kissed the top of her hair. "Like Elizabeth Bella Carnaby wasn't a handful to raise."

Bella stiffened in mock indignation. "I was not!" she declared with a little stomp of her foot. Then, shooting a look at Candy and Paul Martin, she finished. "I was two!"

His wife made her exit amidst a fresh chorus of laughter. It felt good to laugh. There'd been precious little of it in the house this last week.

Paul Martin put out his hand. Joe shook it and was surprised when the doctor didn't let it go, but gripped his fingers more tightly.

"You remember what I said, young man," he remarked. "Enjoy the moment."

As he was released, Joe replied, "Yes, sir."

Paul's white eyebrows danced. "Ah, respect at last," he said with a wink. "Well, I'll be off then. I've been neglecting a few of my other patients."

"I thought Julian was covering for you," Joe said, confused.

"He is. But I have a few older patients who, like you and your father, seem to think that I am the only doctor in Virginia City that God gifted with the power of healing." Doc Martin's hand came down on his shoulder again. "Take care, Joe. I'll be back tomorrow morning to see how your father is doing."

Joe sent the older man out of the house with his thanks and then turned to Candy. "Now, how about that drink?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Twenty miles away in Virginia City, quite unaware of Joseph Cartwright's current crisis, a well-dressed man in a city dweller's suit, with thick black hair cropped just below his ears, moved with stealth, careful to wear the shadows that lined the bustling street as a cloak. It had been close to twenty years since he had walked them. During that time the city and its surrounding environs had grown to nearly 25,000 inhabitants, expanding exponentially with the discovery of more and more mineral wealth buried beneath Nevada's soil. Fortunately, he wouldn't stand out. There were many of his 'kind' in the city – nearly one out of ten – welcome or not. Still, long years of evading pursuit had taught him to be cautious.

He was here with one intent and one intent only, and he did not need a chance recognition to divert his cause.

Drawing his coat up about his chin, the well-dressed man moved to the end of the alley where he paused to gaze at the establishment across the street. It was the office of the local constabulary – a larger building with more of an air of self-importance than he remembered. He'd considered going directly to the lawman in charge, but decided in the end that was not wise. The words he had were for one man's ears alone. Once his message was delivered, that man could choose what action to take – if any.

After all, it was his life that was at stake.

Casting a glance in both directions, the well-dressed man headed for the International House. Though his 'kind' were not welcome there either, his money would be. He would rent a room with a comfortable bed and, after getting something to eat, catch a few hours sleep. Then he would hire a good horse and head out.

To the Ponderosa.

Joe Cartwright cast a glance at his riding companion. Candy's jaw was set and his ice blue eyes were ever vigilant, searching every inch of the road, which was quite a feat as they were moving at a good clip. He'd been the one to set their pace. He didn't want to be gone long from the ranch. It was an old wound. One that remained unhealed. Every time he rode away from the house leaving his wife and child without his protection, he expected disaster to follow.

Joe snorted and shook his head. Doc Martin had been right. He was waiting for the other boot to drop.

"Something wrong?" Candy called over to him.

'Me,' Joe thought, but he answered, "You."

Candy's light brown brows edged toward his hair. "Me? What'd I do?"

"You're jumpy as a bit up old bull in fly time," Joe answered.

"Me? " Candy shook his head. "I ain't jumpy. I'm just..."

'Lookin' out for your little brother,' Joe thought. He'd never escape it. Even though, in reality, he was a little older than Candy, their foreman had taken up where Hoss had left off.

The curly-haired man winced. Then again, as Bella was all too quick to remind him, it did seem – at times – like he needed a little more lookin' after than most people.

"The sheriff didn't indicate there was any direct threat against me, did he?" Joe asked.

Candy's lips pursed. He thought a second and then said, "Not 'direct', no. But if it was me – and I ain't you, thank God! – I'd be wonderin' what a man was up to if he came to town and started askin' all sorts of questions about me and mine."

That had been the news Candy had come to the house to convey. Roy Coffee was long retired, but he was short on sittin' still. He still helped Clem out most days by sortin' papers and keepin' watch on the inhabitants of the jail and so on. Roy had caught hold of Candy when he was in town. Seems there was a man lately come to Virginia City who'd been asking a lot of questions about him, his family, and the Ponderosa. Roy wouldn't say who the man was or what the questions were, only that both had made him uncomfortable. He'd apologized to Candy for holdin' back and asked his friend to bring him to town so they could talk.

They were about five miles out now. The late afternoon sun was shining. Joe didn't know the exact time, but he would have guessed by the slant of the light that it was heading toward four. By the time they reached town, met with Roy, grabbed a quick bite to eat and maybe a drink, it would be dark. There was a fairly full moon, so travelin' home by the light of it was a good possibility even though it would be smarter to stay in town and head out at first light. Joe pursed his lips and tried to talk himself through it. Even though Pa was down, Hop Sing was at the house with Bella. There were ranch hands coming and going, even though the sickness had left fewer than he would have liked on their feet. He'd even asked two of the younger ones to stand guard until his return. Fool kids! They'd slapped him on the back and – with a wink – told him to take his time in town, as if town held something more special than what he had at home. None of it mattered. There was something in him that compelled him to return home as soon as possible. He knew it was foolish, but he felt he had to be there – that it was his responsibility and his alone to keep Bella and Eric safe.

Like he'd been unable to keep Alice and their child safe.

Shifting in his saddle, Joe eyed the road ahead. Then, with a wicked gleam in his eye, he leaned forward and pressed his knees ever so gently against Cochise's sides. His horse snorted with excitement as his old friend's black eyes lit with the same fire.

"Hey, old man," he called to his companion.

Candy had been looking to the side, eyes narrowed. His head whipped back. "Old man?"

"You're movin' slower than a snail on crutches." As Joe let Cochise take the lead and felt the wind begin to rush through his curls and slap his cheeks, he called, "Last one into town buys the drinks!"

And then he left Candy in the dust.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The light was almost gone by the time Joe slowed Cochise to a walk and rode into Virginia City. He'd expected Candy to catch up to him but, so far, there was no sign of the brown-haired man. Cooch was getting older and it probably hadn't been too smart to drive him so hard. He wasn't lathered, but he was sweating. Joe laughed as he patted his mount's neck. Then again, he was sweating too.

He'd never admit it, but every year Cooch got older, he did too!

As they walked slowly into town, Joe took in the sights. Even this late in the day the city was still buzzing with activity. It had only been sixteen years since the small settlement his pa had first come to had given way to Virginia City, and even less since the discovery of silver in the area had changed it from a trading post with a few surrounding buildings to what some called the 'inland partner' of San Francisco. There were days when he found the changes exciting. As a young man, he had thrived on it. But now, as an older and slightly more sober married man, with one child and another on the way, there were times when he longed for the old days before gain and power had come to be Virginia City's currency of choice. Of course, a bigger town offered more than a one horse post. There were several doctors now, a bigger school – with teachers educated back East that would have given Adam a run for his money as far as smarts – and, of course, the larger expanded office of the law with its young sheriff and multiple deputies.

There had to be multiple deputies to deal with the rise in crime.

Along with the silver had come men who would do whatever it took to get their share of it, fair or not. It went all the way up to the Bank Crowd and the Irish Big Four who literally battled it out to see who would come out on top to control the mining industry and all of its possible profits. Joe sighed and shook his head as he called Cochise to a halt and dismounted in front of the livery. He enjoyed town, but he was glad his father had created a haven twenty miles away from it where he could rear his family. Where they could be safe.

Where he could keep them safe.

After ordering plenty of hay and a dose of oats, and paying for the best care for Cochise, Joe eyed the hotel and considered whetting his whistle first, but determined instead to head straight for the sheriff's office to see if he could find either Roy or Clem. The fastest way to the new jail from the stable was an alley that connected one street with the other. As he began to walk toward it, Joe looked out of town, searching the darkening night once again for his missing companion. He was beginning to worry. Even if Candy had decided not to take up his challenge and to lope into town, he should have been here by now. If he didn't see him by the time he got done with the sheriff, he'd have to forgo that drink and bite to eat and head back out. Maybe his friend's horse had thrown a shoe, or...

Or maybe something worse had happened.

Joe hadn't gone three yards into the alley when he stopped. Without warning, his absent older brothers' words hit him like a fist.

Hoss first. 'Now, Joe, don't you go takin' any chances. A few more steps ain't gonna wear out them skinny little legs of your'n. You stay out of that alley!'

Then Adam. 'Joe, I've never met anyone as prone to tempt fate as you. What is it about the equation of a dark tunnel, unscrupulous men, and danger you just can't seem to figure out?'

Reckless. Imprudent.

Stupid.

Joe ran a hand along the back of his neck, shifting the silvery curls from the collar of his green coat as he glanced down the long narrow passage before him. It was black as pitch. The young man he'd been would have plunged straight into it, daring something to happen and sure he could handle it.

But he wasn't that young man anymore.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Joe turned and headed back toward the street he had just left behind.

He should have plunged ahead.