Chapter Two
When Shiloh and the Cartwrights arrived at the Ponderosa, they were greeted by Hoss and Joe, who had just come out of the barn after bedding down their horses. Shiloh stood, and when Hoss took her by the waist to help her down, she felt like she was floating as if she were as light as a feather, rather than slowly dropping to the ground. Hoss removed his hat and lowered his eyes. "Miss Shiloh, it sure is good to have you home."
"Hoss, I didn't think it possible, but you've gotten…taller." She quickly looked back at Adam who was busy untying her bags on the back of the buggy. "You've actually outgrown your older brother."
Hoss blushed, smiled and nodded. "Yes ma'am. I reckon so."
Joe took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. "Miss Shiloh, welcome home," he said, looking into her eyes as he kissed her hand.
Shiloh raised her other hand to her mouth to cover a quiet laugh. "I'm sorry, Joe. It's just that…well, you were only thirteen when I left. It's quite different to see the charming young man you've become." Her eyes were laughing. "And handsome, too."
"Thank you, ma'am…I think," he said, smiling impishly.
"Don't you go ma'aming me," she said, swinging around to glance at Hoss. "Either one of you. I'm not of an age that I need or want to be ma'am'd," she said, winking quickly at Joe.
While the boys took her bags and trunk to her room, Ben guided her to the great room, motioning for her to be seated. "Would you like something to drink, maybe some coffee?" he offered.
"Mr. Cartwright, I remember how refreshing your spring water tasted, if that wouldn't be too much trouble."
"No trouble at all." Hop Sing had already come into the room with the coffee service and a pitcher of water. He had a knack for being right there at the moment he was needed, as if he could smell a request come wafting into his kitchen. "Thank you, Hop Sing," said Ben while Hop Sing placed the tray on the big table in the center of the room.
Before he left, he turned. "Missy Shiloh, it good to have you home."
"Thank you, Hop Sing. "It's good to be home."
"Well young lady, how was the trip?" asked Ben, crossing his legs, settling into his leather chair with his cup of coffee.
Shiloh leaned back contentedly on the settee. "It was probably longer than it needed to be."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there's the circumstance that brought me home, but mostly because the coach is not especially comfortable for me. I have a slight problem in confined spaces, and unless I can sit on the side instead of the middle, I'm afraid I get a bit tense."
"Oh?"
"I never realized I had that problem until I had to ride for awhile in a stagecoach. I've never been in a confined space that small anywhere else." She sipped her water and returned the glass to the table. "I have the same problem in tight crowds, but it's tolerable for the most part."
As she was speaking, Adam came down the stairs, making his way to the leather chair next to the fireplace. He was content to sit and listen.
"Mr. Cartwright, would you tell me about Daddy? He never mentioned in any of his letters that he was ill. I had no idea until I received your telegram."
Ben sat his cup on the saucer he steadied on his lap with his other hand. "He hid it well. He had a cough for awhile, but he said he had seen Dr. Martin and dismissed it. By the time we realized it was more than a cough, he was already bedridden and weak. He didn't last much longer." He paused as he watched the blue of her eyes slowly begin to stand out prominently against the red that was taking over. She sniffled, took a deep breath and seemed to regain her composure. "We had the service on the hill. He's buried next to your mother."
"Thank you, Mr. Cartwright."
"Shiloh, your father left a letter for you, and there's some other business we need to discuss," said Adam quietly. "We can talk about everything later. Perhaps, you'd like to rest."
"Yes, that would be nice," she answered quickly, fighting tears. Crying in front of Ben, the closest thing she had to a father now, was one thing, but showing any weakness in front of Adam would be unconscionable. She already knew, based on how much her father admired him by how he spoke of him in his letters, that any hopes she had of being left alone to run the ranch depended on what Adam Cartwright felt she could handle.
After she rose and excused herself, Adam showed her to her room, opening her door and closing it behind her after she afforded him a slight smile. He stood outside her door, listening for the sobs he expected would break out, but after hearing nothing for a long moment, he turned and left.
