AN: Dedicated to my Bonanza partner in crime, the very talented "Romirola".


The tall, lanky framed young man wiped the thin sheen of sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his oak shirt. Tilting his head, he listened to the sound of horses signalling the arrival of visitors to the Ponderosa. Six months working on the biggest spread in Nevada and Griff King was finally able to call it home. Sometimes he wondered what he would do once his parole term came to an end. While he craved for freedom and the luxury to make his own choices without asking for someone's permission, he felt safe for the first time in a long time. Here, he had made friends among the other ranch hands with whom he bunked with. Of course, it had taken time and all the patience he could muster to finally earn their friendship and most importantly, gain their trust.

Planting the pitchfork into the mound of hay, Griff made his way out of the barn, ready to greet the visitors and tend to their horses. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to in recent weeks and he fell into it with ease.

"Griff! I'd like you to meet Marshall Slade McCoy and his associate, Mr. Howard," Ben Cartwright called out heartily, just as the lad walked out of the barn.

The patriarch of the Cartwright clan may as well have ploughed Griff in the gut with his own fist as instant recognition met the young man's blue eyes. Still, he put up a brave front, pushing his insecurities and fear aside as he strode out to meet the Marshall and his companion. Please don't remember me. He extended his hand as he figured it was the polite thing to do and hoped that he would at least be given a reprieve from the judgemental prejudices that he usually had to endure each time he had the pleasure being in the company of a lawman.

"Griff King?" The Marshall raised his eyebrows as he shook hands with the young man.

"Yes, Sir," Griff answered with a nervous smile.

"Yes, I believe we've met," McCoy replied tersely.

"Oh? I had no idea you too knew each other," Ben chuckled, looking from one man to the next.

"Of course. I had the pleasure of bringing him in after he almost committed a murder. Ain't that right, Griff?" McCoy leered, clearly enjoying making the former convict uncomfortable.

"Slade, Griff here is on probation and he is under my employ. He's been nothing but a model citizen. Whatever he did is in the past," Ben cut in firmly but not unpleasantly. Slade was an old friend but Griff was a man who had atoned for his past mistakes and deserved a second chance. He wanted to make it clear where he stood. "Why don't you and Mr. Howard come in and I'll have Hop Sing fix us some tea. I'll have Griff look after your horses."

"If you don't mind, Ben, I'd rather Mr. Howard take care of our horses. They're a little nervous around strangers." McCoy handed the reins to his surly associate.

"I understand. I'll have Griff show Mr. Howard the stables and where he can water the horses. Griff, if you don't mind?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Cartwright," Griff replied, all the while measuring up Mr. Howard who stood almost as tall as himself but broader in stature. He definitely wasn't the type of man that one would mess around with. He also didn't strike Griff to be the kind he could engage in small talk which suited him fine as the young man preferred to keep to himself at times like these.

Mr. Howard gave Griff a quick and contemptuous once-over before following him into the stables, the reins of both horses clutched in his hands.


Once in the stables, chose a place to rest the horses. Out of habit, Griff reached up and started to unsaddle one of the mares when a vicious and calculated blow caught him in the side. An involuntary cry of pain and surprise escaped his lips as his knees buckled and he fell to his knees, clutching his ribs. He looked to see 's face inches from his own.

"Didn't ya hear the Marshall? Keep yer filthy hands off the horses, ya dirty con!" Mr. Howard spat before straightening up and rubbing his knuckles. "Move it!"

Griff slowly rose to his feet, breathing unsteadily. His hand curled into a fist, ready to strike but Candy's voice of reason held him back.

Mr. Howard laughed cruelly. "Just you try it, kid. It'll be my pleasure to put a hole in yer belly. No one's gonna be lookin' for yer body cause there ain't no one gonna care what happens to a con. Not even the Cartwrights."