Blue Spanish Eyes

We, Tauna Petit-Strawn and Ghostwriter85, do not own the copyrights to Bonanza.

NOTE: Due to Tauna's hectic schedule, and my life also being busy, the decided goal is to post once a week. HUGE thanks to Tauna for consenting to co-write this with me.

Chapter 1

The summer air was crisp as the brown book was laid open upon the antique desk of one that had once belonged to the famous rancher Benjamin Cartwright; one which had been moved back inside just the other day. It was being handled by one slender olive-tanned hand. Blue eyes fell on various journal entries of the past.

Adam awoke today. We cannot explain the ring on his hand, nor can he explain as his speech is garbled and hands are shaky. Ben Cartwright

The next one read:

Adam is home and is able to walk with canes, his speech is coming along, but it is still hard to understand him, though his brothers and I do not complain. We can see the progress he is making; we know that while it might take time, he'll make a complete recovery. Ben Cartwright.

The entries were all written by Ben and none had the one reading concerned; until the last one.

While Adam has made wonderful progress, he's walking on his own, he no longer has a speech problem and is back to work on the ranch, we all worry about him greatly. He refuses to take a golden wedding band off; one of which we do not know the origins for I am sure the one we saw appear when he awoke was simply a case of our tired minds and weary bodies playing tricks on us. If that isn't bad enough he constantly sketches a picture of a woman none of us knows, and flats out refuses to court anyone. He won't say anything other than he's waiting for his wife to come back to him. I fear the head injury has left him with some permanent delusions.

"Oh, Adam, " Tears ran down Rosita's cheeks and a sigh filled the air as she whispered, "I will find a way back to you." Her blue Spanish eye turned rock hard with determination and the delicate lips spread thin.

~oOo~

The sun whipped around the Ponderosa as Mark Peter's truck drove up and Camilla was inside having what amounted to a hissy-fit.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Camille was appalled at the sight of Rosita in a calf-length dark blue denim skirt, a deer-hide jacket over a white blouse and well-worn cowboy boots.

"First, I'm going to Carson City, and after that on a little trip." She didn't tack on the words 'I hope' as that was none of Camilla's business.

Camilla would not calm down. She griped over Rosita insisting on learning how to build fires the old fashioned way, using flint and steel, how to cook on a woodstove and; heaven help her, how to sew her own clothes by hand!

"Mark, have fun." Rosita shot out as her cousin stepped inside during Camilla's tirade. "I'm out of here."

"I love you too." Mark may not have understood what his relation was up to, but he knew once that gal got something into her head there was no stopping her.

The scenery to Carson was ignored, though a few choice words had to be muffled as some idiot drivers passed by on double yellow lines, honked horns for no good valid reasons, and shouted offers her way that Rosita was convinced would have gotten Adam's fist in their face. Fortunately, it wasn't any office in the city she needed to go to. No, what she needed was to go the quiet home of Barry Anderson and that was not actually in Carson. The gentleman lived on the outskirts of Carson, a house set in the middle of five acres with no other houses around it; hence the idiot drivers were ignored once her truck pulled onto his land. Soon she was in his driveway.

"Hello, Rosita." Barry, a World Word two vet with a weathered face and soft gray hair, spoke from behind a locked chain-linked fence. "You sure you want to attempt the trip? I can't guarantee the blue light would show back up long enough for you to enter the portal. You'd be stuck if that was the case."

Rosita made sure she was standing straight and tall as she answered with a tone that spoke volumes. "Promise?"

Mr. Anderson visibly flinched at her reply. There was something she wasn't telling him, and he wondered if he really should be helping Rosita out. However, after mentally shrugging his shoulders, Barry decided it was her life, not his.

~oOo~

The basement in Mr. Anderson home was actually an old cellar. Rosita walked down the gray steps leading down to an old workbench. Barry was putting supplies in an old backpack for her. He said some old miner in his family had owned it. "Get whatever you'll need." Barry said as he stepped out of the way.

Rosita looked around. Soon she was putting in good old army knife and one that would have made the best of hunter's drool. Afterwards, she put in plenty of jerky, nuts, basic salt, flour and sugar. Thirdly, she put in flint and steel knowing matches would make her stand out too much.

"Here are a couple of canteens a Civil War fanatic brought me." Barry had filled them with ice-cold water. "And here are a couple of revolvers from that period. Sure you know how to shoot them?"

"Trust me…" Rosita spoke as she took them and stuck them in holsters underneath her jacket, "I've been doing more than talking to you for the past five years. By the way," she looked at Barry and asked, "How come the government used you as a grunt instead of in some high-class secretive position?"

Her statement did not surprise Barry in the least. If she was in his basement prepared to follow through with her plans, it was because she'd done her homework. Her question didn't bother him either. "Darling, I'm crazy, not stupid. Even my college professors thought I'd lost the ability to comprehend physics after I'd wrecked my car before joining the army." In other words he'd decided that while he'd not run from any fight; he didn't trust the government with the kind of knowledge he held in his head. "Ready? I mean if this doesn't work you'll be stuck in limbo, or I get to call your next of kin." Barry asked as he opened up the door to the section of the old cellar where Rosita needed to be in order to make the jump.

"I'm sure. And if you have to call Mark; no big deal, you have those legal papers I signed last month." Rosita stepped in with all her supplies and waited as

Barry Anderson locked the door, walked to the machine and hit a round green button.

A loud snap was heard. Streaks of whitish blue light appeared and, in a matter of seconds, Rosita was nowhere in sight. Barry shook his head and hoped the young woman wasn't stuck in limbo.