Ben Cartwright's fork was midway to his lips, a juicy piece of bloody beefsteak quivering as his hand rose unhurriedly to his mouth. He eyed the succulent morsel, his saliva glands watering with anticipation at the prospect of enjoying a dinner of Hop Sing's famous and, it could be said, acclaimed roast beef. He had scarcely closed his eyes, readying himself for an eruption of flavour on his tongue, when a resounding crash—so loud it could have raised the dead from their eternal rest—echoed through the ranch house.

"Jumping Jehoshaphat! What in tarnation!"

He frowned as he watched his two youngest sons—Adam being due back from Placerville any time now—curl into themselves at their father's exclamation. Joe's concentration became focused on chasing a small collection of peas around the rim of his plate. Hoss, meanwhile, was peering into his glass of water, the interior of the vessel suddenly of great interest to him.

Ben lowered his hand to the table—the steak forgotten—and narrowed his eyes with suspicion. His gaze settled on Joe who had almost captured that last elusive pea; it was proving a troublesome quarry.

Ben's voice was sharp. "Joseph!"

Joe jerked in his seat. The peas rolled off his fork and back onto the plate. Meek eyes were raised to his father and a timid smile pulled one side of his mouth up.

"Ah, Pa, we were gonna tell you—"

Joe was interrupted by the sound of splintering wood and smashing china reverberating through the room; the windows rattled softly in their panes.

Ben rose halfway out of his chair, an angry glare fixed in the direction of the ruckus emanating from the adjoining bunkhouse. His eyebrows sank low over his eyes as he pulled his gaze back to his sons, scrutinizing them as they sheepishly toyed with the food on their plates, unable to meet their father's piercing stare. With clenched fists positioned on the table, Ben angled himself over his boys. His face was dark but his voice was soft. And when his voice was soft, it was often deadly.

"Would one of you boys care to tell me...just what…is going on in the bunkhouse?"

Hoss placed his fork carefully on his plate.

"Well, ya see it was like this…" He paused and pulled his mouth high up beneath his scrunched-up nose.

"It was like what?"

Ben spat the last word out with such vehemence that both his sons cringed slightly in their seats.

"It's Hank, Pa."

Ben surveyed his youngest son.

"Hank?"

For a brief moment Ben didn't know to whom they were referring. But then another bang was heard, followed by loud, angry voices, and Ben knew exactly who they were talking about. He moved out from behind the table and marched into the centre of the room, halting abruptly at the sound of another deafening commotion. Once the dust had settled, Ben turned sharply to face Hoss and Joe, his hand outstretched behind him as he pointed towards the source of the upheaval.

"You've got Hank Myers in the bunkhouse!" Ben roared.

"Well, Pa—"

"Do you remember how much damage he did the last time he was here? He's still paying it off from his weekly wages!"

Hoss and Joe rose quickly from the table and, adopting a flanking movement, they approached their Pa from both sides. Joe gently placed a soothing hand on his father's shoulder.

"He had no place else to go."

"What do you mean he had no place else to go? What about his home, his wife?"

"Dadburnit, Pa, Abigail's gone kicked 'im out."

"Kicked him out! But they've only been married a year!"

Joe and Hoss exchanged a quick nod and together they manoeuvred their father towards the sofa. Hoss quickly poured his father a drink of their finest brandy and after handing it over, watched as their father threw it down his throat in one fluid motion. Joe sat on the table in front of him, nodding his head in exaggerated desolation.

"He's real cut up about it." explained Joe. "Said that he and Abigail had a huge bust-up over something and she threw him out on his ear. She even hurled his guitar after him and you know how she loves to hear him sing."

With a stiff shot of brandy warming Ben's belly, his earlier fit of vexation had cooled. The sounds of destruction in the bunkhouse had dissipated and at the realization all was now quiet, Ben's temper was once more reined in. His brows, however, were still drawn together.

"So how long are you proposing he stay in my bunkhouse—or what's left of it?"

After flicking a hasty glance at Joe, Hoss lowered himself slowly to the sofa next to his father. He gulped before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, sir, we sorta told 'im he could stay as long as he needed, until he'd sorted things out with Abigail."

Ben straightened his neck, the edges of his lips turning downwards as he contemplated Hoss's words.

"Well, it shouldn't be too long then. They just need to sit down and talk over whatever—"

"Well, see, Pa, the thing is, Hank's tried talking to her but she won't listen." Joe paused and looked over at his older brother. "So, we, that is, me and Hoss, we reckon seeing as how we got 'em together the first time, we should, uh, well…" Joe's voice trailed off as his father's mouth fell open.

"You two boys appear to have very short memories. Don't you recollect the last time you got involved in Hank Myers' romantic affairs? Adam almost ended up married to Abigail Jones!"

"What's that about me and Abigail Jones?"

The three men turned to see the door slam behind a dark and dusty Adam. He had entered the ranch house as Ben was reminding Hoss and Joe of the last time Cupid and Cupid Unlimited had caused havoc in the lives of its unfortunate clientele.

"Ah, Adam, a voice of sanity at last."

Adam noticed his two brothers exchange a brief look of irritation.

"Your brothers, in their infinite wisdom, have given Hank Myers a bed in the bunkhouse. Seems Abigail has removed him from the marital home."

Adam straightened up from where he had been loosening his holster tie, baring his teeth in a grimace.

"Hank Myers? I'm surprised the bunkhouse is still standing."

He walked over to the settee and rested his hands on the cushioned back, leaning over to where his family was gathered.

"So why'd she kick him out?"

Hoss stretched his arms out behind him on the table. "He wouldn't say." He looked up at Adam. "But now you're back from Placerville—how'd it go, by the way?"

Adam grunted a dismissive reply and straightened up. "Now I'm back…what?"

Joe rose and walked around to stand next to Adam, placing a friendly hand on his older brother's shoulder.

"Well, see, Adam, me and Hoss have an idea which we think will get Hank and Abigail back together."

Adam swivelled away from his brother and lifted his hands up in the air. "Oh no, little brother, don't you be getting any ideas. I've still not recovered from the last time you roped me into one of your schemes."

He headed towards the dining table and sat at his usual place, his back to his father and brothers.

"But, Adam—"

"No, Joe."

"Just this one last time."

"No."

Joe took a hesitant seat at the table.

"It involves the history of Virginia City and I know how you like that sorta thing."

Adam paused as he unfolded his napkin. "The history of—" He shook his head and glared at his brother. "No!"

There was silence in the room. Hoss and Ben watched the face-off from where they were still seated; Joe carefully run his finger around the rim of a glass whilst Adam piled slowly congealing food onto his plate.

"Think of the bunkhouse, Adam."

Adam's head dropped to his chest.