A/N: This is an idea that hit me while I watched the episode, The First Born. I greatly enjoyed Clay Stafford's character and couldn't resist writing this. While I originally had this as a one-shot, I was informed it was too long, so I have broken it up. Enjoy!


"Mrs. Stafford, what are you doing in town?"

Carefully, Mabelle Stafford set the wagon brake and then climbed down from the wagon seat. Only then did she turn her attention to the man on the boardwalk. "Supplies won't buy themselves, Sheriff Baldwin," she said with a smile as she brushed at the dust on her pink dress. "Besides, it's good to get off the ranch and see other people."

"Ma'am, I don't mean any disrespect, but your baby is going to be coming into the world any day now from the looks of it," Sheriff Baldwin told her, pushing his hat back. "A woman in your condition ought not be driving a wagon."

Mabelle shook her head, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. She laid her right hand on top of her belly. "Life goes on whether a woman is with child or not," she pointed out. "I'm not about to go into labor standing right here, Sheriff, so can I go about my business?"

Shaking his head, the sheriff walked down the street in the direction of the saloon. Laughing, Mabelle entered the general store, swinging her basket as though she were a child. She waved hello to the woman behind the counter and then began to browse the shelves. As she studied the canned goods, she heard the door open and then close.

It was only when there was a shout, far too loud in the small space, that Mabelle realized something was amiss. "All of your money!" a gruff voice demanded. "Or I will shoot her."

Alarmed, Mabelle moved to the end of the shelf and peered around the edge. Two men, both with guns in their hands, were facing the store owner and his wife. "Sir, we have only a little money," the woman said. "Most of our customers have credit and haven't paid us yet."

As Mabelle's fingers curled around a can, an ineffective weapon against a gun but all she had to work with, the robber closest to her pulled the trigger. The shot was deafening in the small space. The store owners wife reeled back a step and then collapsed to the floor. "Mary!" her husband cried out, reaching for her.

A second gunshot rang out and the man fell to the floor next to his wife. Letting go of the can, Mabelle recoiled and pressed her hand against her mouth. Closing her eyes, she listened as the two men grabbed the money from the till. "Go, Sam," the gruff voiced man said.

Footsteps went in the direction of the front door, which then opened. "Sheriff! Someone get the sheriff! There's been a robbery! Folks are hurt in here!" the man called out. "Is there a doctor in town?"

So that was their play. Mabelle took a deep breath as shouts sounded in the street and people rushed in. "What's going on in here?" Sheriff Baldwin demanded.

"We just came and found them dead," Gruff voice said by way of explanation. "Some man, dark haired and skinny-like ran out the back."

Balling her trembling fingers into a fist, Mabelle pushed away from where she had been hidden from sight. "These men are the murderers, Sheriff," she said, thankful her voice was steady. "I saw them pull the triggers and kill the Johnsons."

All gazes swung her way. "Impossible! No one else was in here!" the shorter of the two criminals, Sam, protested.

Quicker than Mabelle could follow, the sheriff had his gun drawn. "Both of you, drop your guns," he said. "See, I knew Mrs Stafford was in here. She came in not fifteen minutes ago. I trust her judgement. Now, one of you toss that bag of yours over here."

His face darkening with anger, the second man obeyed. The sheriff handed the bag over to one of the town members, who pulled the money out. "Alright, I'm taking you down to the jail," Baldwin said, gesturing with his gun.

Both of the men moved to obey, but shorter made a lunge for the gun while the second man fought for the back door. Mabelle flinched as the sheriff fired his gun. Sam hit the floor, but his partner wrenched free of the men holding him and bolted for the back door.

"Get after him!" the sheriff shouted.

Breathlessly, Mabelle sagged onto a barrel, her hand at her belly. A broken chuckle came from her feet and she looked down. Sam was staring up at her, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "You're going to pay for this, woman," he said, manic laughter in his voice. "My brothers. They won't let you live. You and that baby of yours is going to die. In the worst way possible."

Horrified, Mabelle watched as his eyes lost focus and the laughter faded away.


"I can't wait for this roundup to be done and I can get a full night's sleep in my own bed."

Chuckling, Hoss Cartwright glanced over at his younger brother. They had spent all week sleeping out, rounding up cattle to send to market. Tempers were worn thin now that it was Saturday and everyone was more than ready to get into town to let off some steam. The fact that Little Joe only wanted a bed spoke to how hard they all had been working.

"I hope Hop-Sing has roast beef for us," the large, fair haired man said. His mouth began to water as he thought about it. "Ain't no one cooks roast beef better than Hop-Sing. With mashed potatoes, those fluffy biscuits of his, and an apple pie."

Little Joe Cartwright shook his head, taking his hat off. "It's always food with you." He waved his hat in front of his face for a moment before putting it back on. "You're not even going to town for a beer?"

"Now I didn't say nothin' about that. We'll go to the Bucket of Blood, have a beer, and then ride home for one of Hop-Sing's meals."

"Now you're talking. Think we can convince Older Brother to join us?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

The distant crack of a pistol caught their attention before they could continue their conversation. Little Joe sat up straighter in his saddle, his eyes scanning the horizon in the direction the sound came from. "We don't have anyone chasing out strays in the south who might have run into some trouble, do we?" he asked.

"No, we finished up that way first thing," Hoss said, also looking to the south.

Several more shots, though distant, could be heard. Exchanging looks, both Cartwrights kicked their mounts into action. Side by side, they raced to the south. The gunshots grew louder and more frequent the further they rode. In a matter of minutes, as they paused on the top of an incline, they located the source of the gunshots.

A wagon bounced wildly on the uneven ground, far from any road. Nine riders were closing in on the wagon, nearly all of them shouting at the wagon, which was being driven by a short figure. "Now what in blue blazes is that all about?" Hoss asked incredulously.

Not bothering to answer, Joe raced forward to intercept the riders, drawing his gun. His first shot makes one of the attacking riders fall to the ground. Hoss was only moments behind his younger brother, his own gun in his hand. Though they clearly had the greater numbers, the sudden aid for the wagon seemed to make the remaining eight riders hesitant.

A second man jerked and fell to the ground from one of Joe's shots. The other riders quickly slowed, though they kept up firing. A woman's shrill scream pierced the air and Joe looked over his shoulder. Somehow, the wagon was on its side and as he watched, it fell over completely. The two horses that had been pulling it were bolting away, leaving the wagon belly up, as it were, wheels spinning in the air.

A laugh came from the attackers and the gunshots stopped. One of the men turned his horse around and galloped away, followed by the others. Little Joe moved to chase after them. "Joe, we'll track them down later," Hoss said, stopping him. "We need to see about that wagon."

With a scowl, Joe holstered his gun and turned Cochise. The driver of a the wagon, a young boy who couldn't have been more than fifteen, was lying a few feet from the wagon. Hoss dismounted and hurried to him first. "He's alive, but his arm is broken," he announced as Joe went to the upside down wagon.

"Hoss, I can't see if there was anyone else in the wagon," Joe answered. "But I'm sure I heard a woman."

Leaving the unconscious boy, Hoss moved to the wagon. He crouched by the side and worked his fingers under the wood for a strong grip. Lifting the wagon up was easy enough, and Joe was able to squeeze under. "Hoss!" came Joe's panicked exclamation. "I found her!"

"Pull her out," Hoss answered.

His brother poked his head out. "Hoss, she's...uh, she's with child."

Biting back a curse that would have appalled his father, Hoss scowled. "Get back under there and make sure she ain't anywhere near the side. I'm going to tip this thing over," he ordered. Joe disappeared from sight and then called out an affirmative. Putting all his strength into it, the large man heaved up and shoved it over.

Wood cracked and the wheels snapped as the wagon fell over. Joe cautiously sat up from where he had been stretched over the woman to protect her. "Hoss, someone's going to have to ride for the doctor," he said.

"First off, you're riding back to camp to tell Pa and Adam what happened," Hoss responded, kneeling down. "Send them back here with one of the wagon's. Then, you can ride for Doc Martin and bring him to the house."

"Yeah, alright," Joe said. He ran to Cochise, mounted, and then raced off.

A soft moan caught Hoss' attention and he focused his attention on the woman. "You just lie still, ma'am," he said gently, studying her. Wispy brown hair was escaping a braid, curling around her pale face. She was tangled up in many quilts, something the kindly man hoped had protected her from harm. "You're safe now, I promise you."

Her right hand moved towards her head as she opened her eyes. Her fingers came away streaked with red. A gasp left her lips as she saw the blood and she seemed to become more alert. "Ronny," she said, moving as if she would try to sit up. "The horses. Are they—?"

Swiftly, Hoss put his hand on her shoulder. "Everything's fine, ma'am," he said as she turned her gaze to him. "The boy's going to be fine. A little banged up, but once the doc sees to him, he'll be fine. You just keep still."

"My baby," she whispered, her blue eyes suddenly terrified. She moved her left fist to her belly.

Hoss caught her hand. "My brother's ridden for a doctor," he said, keeping his tone soothing. He rubbed his fingers against the back of her hand, trying to calm her. "And my pa's coming with another wagon so we can get you someplace safe. You just rest easy now. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

Her forehead creased in a frown as she tried to focus. "My head," she admitted. Her gaze flicked to her her bloody fingers. "I have to—I have to get to the Ponderosa before it's too late. I have to find Joe Cartwright."

He chuckled at that, though he was confused about why she would have been coming to the ranch. "You ain't got nothing to worry about then. You've reached it, ma'am. My name is Hoss. Hoss Cartwright. Joe is my younger brother. He's gone to get the doc for you but he'll be back soon enough."

The moment Hoss said Joe's name, the woman seemed to relax. "M-Mabelle Stafford. Clay Stafford is my husband."

Surprised, Hoss shook his head. "Clay Stafford? Well, doggone." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his pa and Adam riding towards him. Behind them came a wagon, being driven by one of the hands. "You just hold on a moment longer, Miz Stafford. The wagon is almost here."

"Hoss," Ben Cartwright said as he pulled Buck to a halt. His eyes swept over the scene once he dismounted. "Joe said something about a pregnant woman and an accident, and then rushed off towards town. What happened?"

"Some fellers were chasing down that wagon, and it overturned," Hoss answered, staying by the woman. "Miz Stafford here was in the back of the wagon when it happened and the boy over there was driving it."

Concern was written all over Ben's face as he knelt down. Mabelle gave a start as she saw him. "I'm not here to hurt you, Mrs. Stafford," he said. "I'm Ben Cartwright. You're on my land. Can you tell us why those men were chasing you?"

"I think...I'm going to sleep now," Mabelle said as her eyes drifted closed and she went limp.

"Poor woman," Ben said sympathetically. "Did she say anything else to you?"

"She worried over the boy and her baby," Hoss told him, worry in his voice. "Pa, it ain't healthy for a woman to be knocked around like that."

"No, it's not," Ben agreed. "Did she seem to be in any pain?"

Hoss shook his head. "Not that she said."

"That's good. Paul will be able to tell for sure once he sees her," Ben said, rocking back on his heels. "We'll have the wagon go as slow as possible, and use these blankets to line the wagon. They have saved her and her baby's life."

"Pa, she said she's Clay Stafford's wife."

Ben's eyebrow rose. "Clay Stafford?"

Hoss nodded as the wagon came to a stop nearby. "We'll figure it out once we're home," Ben said, straightening up. "Once we've talked to her more."