PART ONE

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For thou hadst cast me into the deep, in the midst of the seas; and the floods compassed me about: all thy billows and thy waves passed over me. Jonah 2:3

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ONE

"Stay put."

"And don't get into trouble."

"I mean it, Joe. Don't move from this spot until we get back."

"Do you understand?"

"Joe?"

What was it about a nodding head that older brother Adam just didn't seem capable of understanding?

"Joe, answer me!"

The boy with the curly brown hair whirled in the buckboard seat to face the man in black. A forced smile on his face, he saluted smartly.

"Yes, sir! Captain Adam, sir! I'll keep my butt glued to this here wagon seat and I won't move from this here spot until I see the whites of those there eyes again, and I won't get into any trouble, and I won't smile at anyone or have any fun or enjoy coming to town at all. Sir!"

Older brother Adam sighed.

Joe hated it when he did that.

It reminded him too much of Pa.

"Joe, it's not that I don't want you to enjoy your visit to town. It's just that – "

His curly head wagged. "...that you're a boy and Virginia City's no place for a boy to go roaming by himself 'cause he can get into all kind's of trouble with a capital 'T'." Joe rolled his eyes. "I've heard that speech so many times, big brother, that I can recite it in my sleep."

"Maybe it'd be a good thing if you did, little brother," his other sibling remarked as Hoss dropped a heavy load in the back of the wagon making both it and him jump. "Since it seems hearin' it durin' the day ain't makin' it sink in so's you can tell."

Joe did everything in his power to avoid looking crushed. But he was crushed. Middle brother, Hoss, his soul mate and partner in crime had turned twenty-one last year and just as quickly turned on him. What happened to that big giant of a brother who used to back him up? The one who helped him pay older high-and-mighty you-don't-nothing brother Adam back when he got too big for his college-educated britches? The one who at least let him raise Heck if not quite making it to Hell?

"Hoss and I are going to go over to the saloon for one beer, Joe. Just one It'll take maybe ten minutes," Adam said as he rounded the wagon and stepped into the street. "I expect you to stay put until we get back."

Joe eyed the sun, which was almost directly overhead. "Right here?" he asked, squinting. "Pa ain't gonna like it much if I come home with my brains baked."

"Any more baked, don't you mean, little brother?" Hoss snorted.

Joe scowled.

Traitor.

"All right, Joe. You can leave the wagon. But I want you to stay in sight. If I look out of the saloon, I want to see you. "

Adam pinned him with that look, the one that said, 'If not, you'll answer to me', but that really meant, 'If not, you'll answer to Pa.'

"You hear me?"

"Loud and clear, big brother." He eyed the mercantile. "Is it okay if I step in and buy a drink, or do you think I can manage to get into trouble in the two minutes it takes to do that?"

"It wouldn't be a record," Adam groused.

"What if I need to relieve myself?" Joe pushed, one thick mobile eyebrow cocked and ready to shoot. "Do I need to come into the Palace for a permission slip before heading to the privy?"

At his look, the twenty-seven year old threw his hands up into the air. "All right. All right. If I don't see you when I look out, I'll give it a couple of minutes. Does that work?"

Joe crossed his arms in triumph and grinned. "That works."

Without warning, Adam moved in, placing a hand on his leg. "Joe, I mean it. No chasing girls. No wandering off with your buddies. And no poking your nose in at the Bucket of Blood!"

With that older brother spun on his heel, signaled to Hoss, and the two of them walked across the street to the Palace where they pushed open the batwing doors and entered the saloon's darkened interior.

For a moment Joe sat in the wagon fuming. He was so tired of being ordered around – of being told what to do and what not to do without at least having a say – that he was tempted to up and get into some trouble with a capital 'T' just to prove the two wise-acres right. Then he thought about his pa. The last time he'd hitched a ride on somebody else's hair-brained scheme and ended up in Roy Coffee's jail for getting into a fist fight to try to stop one, and Pa'd come to get him, the older man had looked so disappointed it'd near killed him. He didn't want to hurt his Pa. He really didn't want to hurt his brothers either. He loved all of them. He just wished...

Well, dang it, he was almost fifteen! He just wished they'd let him grow up.

"Hi, Little Joe. What are you doing?" a light feminine voice asked.

Joe swiveled in the seat to find Maisie O'Malley coming out of the mercantile. She was carrying an armload of packages. The shop owner was following behind her with an exasperated look on his face and a second armload a mile high.

Hopping down from the wagon, Joe went to greet her. Maisie looked real pretty today. She was wearing a dress of a soft shimmery cloth that clung to all her curves. It was the color of her auburn hair. She wore it swept up like most of the girls who worked at the Bucket, with a dozen or more little tendrils spiraling down around her peach-perfect skin and framing her bold near-black eyes. Maisie wasn't her real name. It was really Madeline, but she said that name was too ordinary for a woman who was going to one day be celebrated on the stage. She was near four years older than him, but they'd gone to school together in the one room school house and been friends ever since. His pa didn't approve of Maisie anymore 'cause of the kind of work she'd chosen. When he apologized to her one time for his pa practically turning his back on her and hustling him away, she'd just laughed and said it was okay. His pa just didn't understand.

Artists had to suffer for their art.

"Little Joe Cartwright!" the store owner exclaimed. "Just the man I wanted to see!"

Joe pointed at his chest. "Me? How come?"

"I have customers backed up from here to eternity and Maisie needs help delivering all of these goods for the new stage show to the Bucket. Would you be a good lad and run these over for me?"

He asked the last while shoving a half dozen packages into his arms.

"Hey! I can't do that. I'm supposed to – "

"Please, Joe," Maisie pleaded, her painted black lashes fluttering. "I'd be so appreciative."

Joe looked at her. Her painted lips were parted just a bit and curled in a smile. Close beneath, her bosom was heaving. He couldn't help but notice since the bodice of her dress was cinched tight as a saddle and kind of pushed everything she had...up. Torn, he cast his gaze toward the Palace, thinking of his promise to brother Adam. Well, he wasn't chasing a girl. He was helping one. He wasn't running off with one of his friends either. And he wasn't poking his nose in at the Bucket, he was being invited in.

Adam said to stay in sight – every few minutes.

Surely, it wouldn't take more than a few to deliver a few packages.

Joe reached over and took a package off of Maisie's stack and anchored it to the top of his own. "Your wish is my command, milady," he grinned.

"Thank you!" the shopkeeper said gratefully as he headed back into his store. "I'll be sure to tell your Pa how helpful you were, young man, the next time I see him."

"You do that!" Joe tossed over his shoulder as he let Maisie take the lead.

That way he could watch her sashay as they crossed the street.

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A few minutes earlier, Adam Cartwright had walked to the batwing doors of the Palace and looked out. Finding his little brother still in place, he returned to the bar.

"He still out there, Adam?" Hoss asked as he came alongside him.

"Still on the wagon seat, sitting in the sun." He took a sip. "Probably trying to work up a burn so he can tell Pa I left him out too long."

"Ah, Adam, ease up. Joe's just a kid and you ride him awful hard."

He glanced at his brother. At twenty-one, Hoss was already a giant. Since he'd started coming into the saloon with him, things had been a lot quieter.

"I ride Joe hard because he needs to be ridden hard. Pa lets him get by with murder."

"He's just high-spirited. Like them horses he loves so much. The boy's got more energy than he knows what to do with. You just gotta channel it right."

Adam swallowed the last sip of the whiskey he'd opted for and relished the burn as it went down. It was early for hard liquor, but his little brother had put him in the mood. "High-spirited. Like his mother, you mean? Look where that got Marie."

"Hey, Adam. That ain't nice. Marie couldn't of done nothin' to stop that horse fallin' – "

"Except ride sensibly. Except rein both the horse and herself in. Except think of what it would do to others if something happened to her." Adam fought for control. The emotions he felt when he thought of his father's third wife and her unnecessary death even now, some nine years later, were raw. "It seems to me that you and Pa think all I want to do is break Joe's spirit. I don't. I want to keep him alive!"

Hoss was looking at his beer. "Sorry, Adam. I know you love Joe. But, he ain't you – no more than he's me." The big man grinned as he turned his mug with his fingertips. "Fact is, if he's like anybody, I think it's Pa."

"Pa?"

His younger brother nodded. "Lookit what happened the other day when that there fancy citified lawyer delivered that summons. I thought Pa was gonna take his head off."

Adam 's lips quirked. "Pa does have quite a temper. But then again," he raised a finger and ordered a refill, "one more word out of that shyster's mouth and I would have done it for him."

"Pa said he's gonna have to go to Genoa for a hearin'. Is that right?"

Adam smiled at the pretty girl who brought his drink. He tasted it to make sure they weren't trying to substitute a cheaper whiskey since he'd already had one and then took a swig. "We leave late tomorrow."

"You're goin' with him?"

The man in black grinned. "What's the matter? You think you can't keep track of that little hellion of a brother we have for three days?"

"Heck, no. Joe and me, well..." Hoss's voice fell off.

"What?"

"Dang it, Adam! I ain't been payin' much attention to Joe lately. Between Pa givin' me more responsibility with the cattle and the men, and him, well, not bein' able to do what I want to do anymore, we've kind of drifted apart." Hoss finished his beer and signaled he was done. "Maybe these here three days will give us a chance to talk. I've got a feelin' he's hurtin' some."

"Joe? Hurting?" Adam finished his drink. "God created that boy with a hurt look on his face. It's what gets him into so much trouble. Men hate it. Women love it. And men hate it because the women love it."

"Least we done a good job teachin' Joe to look out for hisself."

"Oh, he's a scrapper all right. Still, he's got a thing or two to learn when it comes to defending himself. Chiefly, the fine art of when to fight and when to walk away."

Hoss snorted as he pushed off the bar. "I'm thinkin' Joe don't know there is a time to walk away."

"Precisely."

As they began to walk, his giant of a brother put a hand on his arm and halted their progress.

"You hear that?"

He did.

Together they walked to the batwing doors. The street was alive with dust and tumbling men. He looked at the wagon. Little Joe was nowhere in sight.

Here they went again.

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"Just put that down over there, Joe."

Maisie was standing in the light that fell through one of the tall windows on the uppermost floor of the Bucket of Blood. That's where the stage was and where the packages he'd been hauling needed to go. The sunlight set her deep red hair on fire and sparked in the tiny bits of glass she had sewn into what she called her 'working' dress. Maisie was too young to be one of the girls the cowhands referred to a 'sweat and perfume' woman. She was a hostess in the main room and performed in the dance hall routines – both the ones that took place on the saloon floor and the ones up here that were put on for private paying customers.

Joe stared at her for a moment, appreciating her like one of his pa's fine horses and then said, regret in his voice. "I better get going, Maisie. Adam and Hoss are probably back at the wagon by now and we gotta get home."

She turned and looked at him. Her pretty face was masked in shadows. "One more stop, okay?" Maisie held out the largest of the boxes. "This one goes to my room. Can you carry it for me?"

Joe walked over to her. Looking at the steamer size trunk that he had just hauled up the stairs, he asked, "How come we didn't drop this off on the way up?"

She batted those lashes again. "I forgot. Forgive me, Joe?"

As he hefted the package, he asked, "What's in it?"

The redhead smiled. "Clothes for me. From one of the patrons. I've got a special performance to give tonight."

He grinned as they began to walk. "Is he a producer? Are you gonna get to act?"

Her nod came slowly. "Sure thing. He saw me on the floor the other night and told me he wants to help me get my career started. Says he's done it for lots of girls and they're all taken care of real well."

Joe balanced himself with one arm against the wall as he followed Maisie down the stairs to the second floor. Instead of going on downstairs, she turned and walked down the hallway.

"Hey!" he said, following. "You got a new room or something?"

She nodded. "Bigger one. It looks out on the street. "

The street.

He'd have to look out of it when they got there and see if Adam was standing in the middle of it with steam coming out of his head.

"I'll take a look. Then I gotta go, Maisie. Really."

She looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a wistful smile. "If you still want to."

Puzzling over her answer, Joe followed Maisie into her new room. It was a big one, with red velvet curtains and a big fancy tall wood bed. After putting the package down where she told him to, Joe moved to the window and looked out to see that, right in front of the mercantile, there was a brawl going down.

Bet older brother would be happy he'd moved.

"Are they out there?" Maisie asked.

"Hard to tell," he said, swinging back into the room. "There's fight and the dust is thick as – "

Joe halted. Maisie had her hair down. The bodice of her dress wasn't quite as tight as before and she was heading right for him.

The fourteen year old boy swallowed hard and headed for the door.

Maisie caught his arm on the way out.

"Joe," she said softly, refusing to let go. "Kiss me."

"No, Maisie," he worked at her fingers. "What do you think you're doing?"

Tears entered her eyes. "What would you say if I told you your pa was right all along. That I sold myself to have what I want?"

Joe wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about, but he had a good idea. Breaking loose, he said, "You're better than this, Maisie. You know you are." He swallowed hard. "You don't have to do this."

"But I want to, Joe. I want to be an actress and this is the only way. I'm not a Cartwright. I don't have any money. This is the only – "

"No. No, it's not. " Joe paused. "You haven't...well...yet, have you?"

She shook her head.

"No." Her fingers trailed down his chest. "I was hoping maybe..."

Joe frowned. "Maybe what?"

Her eyes lit with hope. "Maybe you'd be my first."

Joe let out a low whistle.

Adam never mentioned trouble spelled with a capital 'M'.

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"You see him, Adam?" Hoss shouted as he pulled two more brawling men apart and then brought their heads together with a resounding crack!

Adam was near the bottom of the pile. A hand came up to signal that he hadn't.

Hoss continued to wade in.

They'd asked as they approached and it seemed the brawl was one of those typical lazy Saturday afternoon ones that sprung up to check the boredom. No one knew what started it. No one really cared. The townsfolk were divided into two teams, one cheering the fighting on and the other yelling for the sheriff to come and stop it. A minute before a body had hurtled through the plate glass window of a nearby store and now people were wagering on whether or not the store owner had any kind of insurance.

It'd be a fool in Virginia City who didn't.

They figured little brother would be right at the heart of it, but so far there was no sign of Little Joe. Maybe he'd been right smart this time and gone inside the store. Maybe he was watching all the action through that there glass window that fronted it.

And maybe, today, pigs really were gonna fly.

A moment later a dusty Adam righted himself and came walking toward him out of the melee, wiping his bloody knuckles on his pants' leg.

Hoss shoved another man forward so his nose made the acquaintance of one of the poles supporting the porch. He watched him fall and then turned to his brother.

"No, Little Joe?"

Adam shook his head. "No." He inclined it them toward the shopkeeper. "Maybe Sid will know something."

The older man was standing in the doorway of his shop waving a frantic hand. Hoss looked and saw Roy Coffee and two deputies approaching.

"Sid, you seen Little Joe?" he asked the man.

The shopkeeper was preoccupied. It took a second before he answered. "Your brother's not here."

Hoss watched Adam's form go rigid. "Well, if he's not here, then where is he?"

Sid was stepping off the porch and heading for Roy. As he walked he tossed over his shoulder, "Last time I saw him, he was going into the Bucket of Blood with Maisie. You might try there."

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Joe had done a fair amount of kissing in his brief life and maybe touched a few things here and there that would have given pa a conniption fit if he knew, but first and foremost his pa had taught him to be a gentleman where women were concerned.

Even ones who wanted him to be something else.

Joe caught Maisie's wrist with his hand. "Maisie, both you and I know that I have a hard time thinking through the things I do. When something comes along, I grab it and run all out. But this, Maisie, think. You can't ever get back what you're thinking of throwing away on some old man who's made you promises he's most likely not going to keep. I know you want to be an actress bad enough you can taste it, but – "

"But, don't you see, Joe? If it's you...first...then I'm not throwing it away. That way with...him...I'll have someone else to think about. It'll just be," her voice broke, "another acting job."

"Maisie, no! You can't go through with it." He circled her other wrist with his fingers, so he held them both. "You're not one of those painted women downstairs. Remember? You promised you never would be."

Maisie slumped. She leaned her head on his shoulders. "I don't know if I can keep that promise," she said, her voice small and sad.

"Sure you can." Joe lifted her chin so she had to look into his eyes. "Sure you can. Look, I'll ask Pa. I'm sure he could find you some work somewhere. He knows lots of people." Joe placed a hand alongside her face. "You're better than this, Maisie. Way better."

She was gently sobbing now. "Okay," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Okay. Thanks, Joe." Maisie looked up. Her smile was wan, but it was there. "Really, thanks."

Her lips were so close he could feel their heat. She was leaning on him, her heart beating in time with his own. When she lifted her face toward his and then pressed her lips against his, he didn't fight but went with it.

He should have fought.

Between one heartbeat ad the next, all Hell broke loose.

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For a moment, Adam was unable to speak. When the words came out, they were loud enough for the bankers in Placerville to hear.

"WHAT THE SAM HILL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

Joe started guiltily and pulled away from Maisie. Adam noted as he did that the top of the girl's bodice was undone. His eyes shot to the bed behind her.

Thank God, it wasn't!

Joe's mouth was open. He was stuttering something about it not being what it looked like. That was probably true, because at this moment he was so absolutely and positively livid that he couldn't see a single thing!

All sorts of things flew through Adam's mind as he took his first step into that room, chief among which was what the hell he was going to tell Pa when he had to tell Pa something. Joe was his responsibility. His little brother didn't know, but Pa'd only let the kid come to town because he'd argued for it, saying Joe had been a lot of help the day before putting up the new fence in the north pasture and it seemed like he was maturing into quite a young man.

Adam's eyes went to Madeline O'Malley.

But dear God! Mature enough for...this?

"Adam, you gotta listen. I was just helping Maisie – "

"Do what? Get undressed?"

"No, Adam. No! You ain't listening to me." Joe's voice was rising in concert with his temper. "You got it all wrong!"

"Did I or did I not tell you to remain where I could see you?" he demanded.

Joe swallowed. "Well, yeah, but Maisie needed help and Mister – "

"Oh, Maisie needed help, did she?" He turned on the young woman who he knew was at least three years older than his kid – his kid brother. "Seems to me like she was intending to help you learn something new. You could be driven out of town for this if Pa wanted to make trouble. Are you aware of that?" he said pointedly.

"You leave her out of this!" his brother protested. "It's not her fault, Adam. If you'd just listen!"

"Oh! Then you admit it's yours!" Adam's jaw was tight . His anger matched his brother's. Good God! The boy could have been ruined for life. He could have picked up some kind of a disease. He could have been bound to a woman he didn't love if she came up...in a maternal way. His fingers formed into fists. "It's about time you acted like the man you want us to think you are and took responsibility for something!"

"Are you calling me a child?" Joe shot back.

"Yes. There. I said it. You're a child. A reckless, irresponsible self-centered child! Joe, for God's sake, you're fourteen!"

"You were practically running the ranch at fourteen," Joe snapped back. "You telling me you weren't a man?"

"No," he breathed deep. "I am not saying you can't be a man at fourteen. What I'm saying is that you aren't!"

"Pa says – "

"Pa doesn't think straight where you're concerned. It's just like it was with your mother. Pa never could tell her 'no'."

Joe just stared at him.

Adam sucked in air. He ran a hand along his forehead. "Look, Joe. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just – "

He'd never seen so many emotions move through the kid's green eyes. They ran fast as a flash flood. Astonishment. Disbelief. Hurt.

Pain. A lot of pain.

"Joe..."

He reached for him, but his brother brushed past. Once Joe's boots hit the carpet in the passageway he started running for all he was worth. Adam glanced at Maisie and then moved to look out the window. He'd left Hoss outside in case Joe tried to escape. He saw the big man reach for his brother's arm.

And miss.

Hoss gave chase but he knew it was useless. Joe was a hare to Hoss' tortoise.

Well, maybe when they caught up to the kid five miles down the Virginia Road Joe would be so worn out he'd at least listen.

Adam sighed. How was it when he could be cool and collected with just about every other man on God's green earth, his little brother always managed to get under his skin and make him lose his temper?

"You owe Joe that apology, Adam," Maisie said quietly. She was sitting on the bed with her arms wrapped around her middle.

"What for?" he snapped.

"It was me," she said, tears flowing down her cheeks. "I made up an excuse to get Joe to come to my room after he helped to take the packages to the third floor. That's all he came here for, to help me." She looked up at him. Her dark brown eyes were black pits in the semi-dark of the chamber. I..." She drew in a breath. "I kissed him."

"That doesn't excuse him kissing you back."

"Like you would have done different at his age?" the girl shot back, her jaw tight.

It was hard for him to remember being fourteen. He'd had so many responsibilities thrust upon him, he really didn't have time to be a child.

A child, like Joe.

Dear God!

What had he done?