ONE

"Maybe we could just give him to the Indians," ten-year-old Hoss Cartwright sighed, rolling his eyes.

His sixteen-year-old brother's lips twitched. "It's a tempting thought," Adam admitted, "though I doubt Chief Winnemucca would go along with it. While Joe's got the lungs for battle cries, when it comes to stealth and silence..."

Hoss winced as another long, loud, determined cry split the air.

"Yeah, well, 'quiet' just ain't in Little Joe's vocabulary."

The older boy chuckled.

Anything but.

From the moment his littlest brother had entered the world, Joseph Francis Cartwright had made sure everyone knew what he was thinking. They knew when Little Joe was happy, sad, mad, tired, hungry, or, like now, all of the above. The women at church all made over him, pinching his cherubic cheeks and declaring Marie's boy was an angel.

They knew better.

Adam glanced at Little Joe and Marie where they stood, well – knelt –nose to nose. Marie was determined that Joe would ride beside her in the carriage instead of in the wagon with him, while Joe was just as determined that he wouldn't.

'I's ride with Adam!' the four-year-old declared as he dug his heels into the dirt and wrapped his grubby little fingers around one of the spokes of the carriage wheel.

Now Marie was, well, he hesitated to say 'permissive', but more often than not she gave Little Joe his head. He supposed it was one way to learn – plow straight into something and if it hurt, don't do it again. The trouble was Marie didn't quite have a clear grasp of life in the West. Though she'd lived in it for nearly five years now, she'd been fairly sheltered from the harsher aspects of its realities. Her greatest adventures were trips into town to visit the millinery and take tea at the Reisen House. Oh, she and Pa had traveled a bit, but Pa always took her back to the civilized world, where she thrived. They'd come home with new baubles for the ranch house each time – velvet curtains, beaded shades, silver tea sets and transferware china. Marie even ordered a French settee that had to be hand-delivered to the house. In a way, his father's third wife was a bauble as well – an embellishment to a household of men. Pa bloomed at her pleasure and wilted when she was unhappy. Looking again at his baby brother, with his long brown curls and...slightly citified outfit...he wondered which way Marie's 'petit Joseph' would go. It was his own dream to go to college. Maybe it would be the same for Joe. By default, Joe spent more time with Marie and Hop Sing than he did with their father or either of them, and while he wouldn't say the boy was spoiled, there was a certain sense of entitlement.

Adam shook his head and sighed.

Keeping the boy alive until he made it through school might prove to be a full time job.

Turning his attention back to the pair, Adam drew in a sharp breath.

The candy had come out.

"Yep," Hoss breathed slowly. "Bribery."

Their Pa would have had a fit. Adam thought back to his own very different childhood. While Pa had not been mean or meant any harm, in his younger days Ben Cartwright had been stern and unbending. If he'd acted like Little Joe was now, he wouldn't have been able to sit down for a week.

And he certainly wouldn't have been offered a handful of taffy.

Joe was eying the candy, apparently weighing out which was more important – his sense of independence or the sweets.

In the end Marie's fledgling decided there were benefits to remaining in the nest. Little Joe released his hold on the wheel. After Marie handed him the candy, he cast his wide green eyes to the ground and toed the dust.

"I'm sorry, Mama," he said.

Law school, Adam though. Or no, politics.

The kid was a natural.

Marie's anger deflated as she gathered the seemingly repentant little boy into her arms and smothered him with kisses. Of course, she couldn't see the look of triumph Joe flashed at them over her shoulder, grinning from ear to ear and waving a stick of taffy like a flag of victory.

"I'm gonna kill him, one day, Adam," Hoss growled. "I swear, I'm gonna kill him!"

"Mon nounours?"

Their little brother was now seated in the carriage sucking on a piece of taffy as if that was where he had wanted to be all along. Marie was approaching them. She held a stick out to Hoss and said, "Joseph wanted you to have this." Then she looked up at him in the driver's seat of the wagon and held out another piece. "You, as well."

Definitely politics.

"Thank you, Marie," he said as he took the candy.

There it was. That sad little wince she made whenever he called her 'Marie'. As he straightened up, Adam considered his inability to do otherwise – to call Marie 'Mama' as Hoss and Little Joe did. He told himself it was because he was too old. Nothing else really made sense. It wasn't like he'd ever known his real mother.

Still, for some reason, he just couldn't do it. In the beginning Pa had been furious with him, but over time his father had come to accept if not respect his choice.

"You are most welcome, Adam," she replied in the same fashion. Little Joe was 'mon petit' and Hoss, 'mon nounours' or 'my little bear'.

He was just Adam.

At that moment the door of the house opened and closed. Adam looked and found his father had stopped just outside the door. Pa was pulling on his gloves; his saddlebags leaning against his booted feet. Their father was taking off for a ranch just south of Dry Diggin's to look at a string of horses. With the war breaking out between America and Mexico, Pa thought they could make a nice profit by training and selling horses to the army. Adam ran a hand over his forehead, thrusting back a wayward lock of coal black hair blown there by the breeze. There were soldiers in the area right now. Pa'd frowned when he'd seen a column of them passing by at the edge of their property the day before. Apparently, they'd stirred up some kind of trouble with the Indians.

A movement to his left brought Adam's attention back to the present. He turned and saw his father lifting Marie into the carriage. Once she was settled, Pa leaned in to ruffle Little Joe's hair – which set the boy to giggling. After giving the beautiful woman a kiss, he headed his way. His father's step was straight and purposeful.

He knew what was coming.

"Son," the older man said as he took hold of his brown bay's reins.

"I'll keep them safe, Pa. You don't have to worry."

"I'll help too, Pa," Hoss said, not realizing he was one of the 'them' he had just promised to take care of. "You don't need to worry none with Adam and me on guard."

Pa smiled as he stepped over to where Hoss stood by the wagon and laid a hand on the large ten-year-old's head. "I know that, son," he said, all business. "I appreciate your offer of help, but you need to listen to Adam and do whatever he tells you. I'm counting on you to keep an eye on that little brother of yours while Adam is busy getting the supplies and your mother goes for her fitting."

They were just going into town. You'd have thought they were traveling to the other side of the world.

"Yes, sir," his younger brother promised solemnly.

Their father cast a glance at the carriage as he returned to his side. Little Joe was on Marie's lap now. He had the reins in his hand and was pretending to drive.

"You be sure to keep a close eye on that little scamp as well," Pa said, worry in his tone. Their father knew that Little Joe's...enthusiasm...for life tended to get him – well, all of them – into trouble from time to time. Pa looked right at him. "Your mother...Marie tends to be a bit permissive with the boy. I'm counting on you, Adam, to make sure nothing goes wrong."

No pressure there.

"Sure thing, Pa," he said with an easy smile.

"You've got plenty of water? It's hot today."

Like he didn't know. "Sure thing, Pa. Hop Sing loaded down the carriage with canteens and food. The horses are complaining."

The older man stared at him a moment and then laughed. "That's because Little Joe has the reins."

Now there was an understatement.

"I should be back day after tomorrow," his father said as he looked up at the blazing sun and the empty, sky. "It's going to be a long, hot, dusty ride, but I don't want to let those horses get away from us." He said nothing, but his father could always read his thoughts. "I'm sorry you can't go with me , son. I know you wanted to. But your mother..."

His mother.

His mother was a calm, cool, sophisticated New England beauty with black hair named Elizabeth. She stared at him out of the frame on his father's bookshelf. It was a credit to Marie that she hadn't insisted his father remove the image of his former wife from his office. He liked Marie.

But she wasn't his mother.

"I know, Pa. You need me here."

The older man placed a hand on his arm. "Thank you, son. I can always count on you."

Adam nodded. That was him – good old reliable Adam.

"You better get going, Pa, if you want to reach Dry Diggin's by nightfall."

The older man nodded.

"You take care, Pa," Hoss said, his young voice breaking just a bit, revealing his fear. "Don't let no rattler get you or nothin'."

"Papa! Papa, look!"

Little Joe's high-pitched voice turned all their heads toward the carriage. His baby brother was swinging with the gold fringe in the breeze, dangling like an acrobat from the surrey's wire frame.

Marie was clapping.

It was going to be a long ride into Eagle Station.

Marie Cartwright took hold of her young son's hand and marched him straight across the street and toward the millinery. A cloud of dust followed them as surely as the words she had heard as they exited the mercantile and stepped into the street.

Ben Cartwright's fancy woman. Soft as a goose feather pillow and just about as useful.

Funny how that little'un don't look nothin' like his pa.

A sharp thrust from a rapier's tip would have been more merciful!

"Mama. Don't cry."

The beautiful Creole woman sniffed back her tears. She firmly planted a smile on her face as she looked down at her little boy.

"Mama is not crying, Joseph. The dust has gotten in her eyes."

Her son stared long and hard at her and then looked back at the lazy men leaning against the wall of the mercantile. She watched as one of his little hands formed a fist and then, without warning, the child broke free and took off across the street.

"Joseph!" she screamed as the untold wagons, carriages, and horses racing up and down what passed for the main street of the settlement bore down on her child. Joseph paid them no mind. His whole being was fixed on the men on the boardwalk who were pointing and laughing – and doing nothing to stop him. "Joseph! No!"

A cowboy on a horse passed between them, taking her breath away as the bulk of the creature blocked her sight. Heedless of any danger to herself, the moment he was gone, Marie began to run.

Only to stop and begin to cry.

Adam was standing in front of the mercantile holding her small son who was flailing his arms and shouting, fighting tooth and claw to break free.

As if toting a raging whirlwind was the most ordinary thing in the world, her husband's eldest began to walk across the street.

"You lose something?" he asked with a grin.

"You puts me down, Adam!" Joseph shouted. "I'm gonna beat up them men who were mean to Mama!"

Marie saw Adam hide his smile. "You know what, champ, I bet you could. But then Deputy Roy would have to put you in jail and I don't think Pa would like that."

Joseph fought for a moment more and then went very still. "You mean Mister Roy'd lock me behind them bars?"

"Yes. And you know what, little buddy? They don't serve taffy in jail."

"Merci, Adam," she said, her voice hushed.

The boy had a beautiful smile when he deigned to grace her with it. "I've got just a little bit more to load onto the wagon, Marie. Hoss was helping and he's all tuckered out. I was thinking maybe Little Joe could help me finish up while you go pick up that dress."

Her young son's green eyes went wide with delight. "Can I Mama?" The child paused and then added with a scowl, "I ain't gonna have no cheeks left after that old Mrs. Kennedy gets done pinchin' them!"

"Joseph..." she began.

"I'm right there with you, buddy," Adam said. "I barely made it out alive."

Joseph was watching her. "You got dust in your eyes again, Mama?" he asked.

Marie blinked. This time it wasn't dust.

It was tears.

Adam watched his stepmother walk away and then turned and started down the street with his little brother perched on his shoulders. He walked fast, his pace matching his fast-beating heart. He hadn't let Marie know, but Little Joe had been about a foot short of disaster when he'd snatched him up and out of the way of a slightly inebriated cowboy whose attention was on the saloon girl he'd just bid goodbye and not on the dusty, well-worn path that divided the settlement or the small boy who had bolted out into it.

He should have known better. Marie might be Little Joe's mother, but she was barely more than a child herself. Or at least she seemed to have no more sense than a child who, after having been stung once, picked up a second bee and then was surprised when it stung them too. Sometimes he wondered what his father had been thinking, bringing her out West. Marie was a beauty and he could see why she'd turned Pa's head, but Eagle Station was no place for her. There were too many dangers. A man – or woman – had to be on their guard every moment. Adam hesitated as his little brother leaned forward and circled his neck with his arms. Joe needed to understand that. He needed discipline.

Otherwise, it was very likely he wouldn't live to see five.

All of a sudden his brother let loose a long, girly giggle.

"Look! Adam, look! Hoss is sleepin' with his hat on his nose!"

He looked and sure enough his ten-year-old brother was sound asleep in the back of the wagon using the sacks they had loaded as a bed. Hoss' white hat was tipped over his face and he was snoring.

Joe leaned in close. His breath tickled his ears. "He ain't supposed to be sleepin' in the middle of the day. Let's wake him up!"

He shouldn't.

Really.

But he did.

Seconds later Hoss was...er...rudely awakened by the sudden descent of a heavenly body.

After all, Little Joe was an angel.

It was heading toward sundown by the time they left the settlement. Marie's fitting had taken longer than expected and then they had had to pay a visit to the reverend who had recently lost his wife and then stop by the haberdashery to pick up the hat that matched his step-mother's new dress. She and Pa were leaving in about a week to go to the governor's ball and you would have thought the world would have stopped turning if both the hat and dress – which were boxed and firmly ensconced under the front seat of the carriage – had not been ready. They rode mostly in silence. After his little brothers had had it out – Hoss pretending to pummel Little Joe and then letting Joe think he'd beat him – both of them had fallen asleep in the back of the wagon. Glancing at his step-mother, who rode alone in the carriage, he couldn't help but smile. One thing he would say for Marie, she had a way with horses. It was almost as if the animals realized they had a beautiful woman driving them and felt the need to impress her. Both were in their best form with their heads up and their powerful legs lifting high. As they moved along, Marie began to hum and then to sing. He knew a little French, partly from exposure, but mostly because you needed to know French to read many of the novels that were currently popular. Pa bought him books, but it was Marie who made sure he had a ready supply and ones of a great variety. Of all the family she understood his love of literature and, in truth, shared it. Once they'd bedded down both boys and Pa had gone up to bed or wandered into his office to work, they often sat and talked over what they had read, debating and discussing plotlines, artistic choices, and verbiage.

It was one of the things that endeared her to him.

Silence brought him out of his reverie – that and the fact that Marie had reined in her prancing horses. The beautiful woman looked at him, frowning slightly.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

He'd been too busy thinking to hear anything. With a shake of his head, he said, "No. What do you think you heard?"

"Something," she said. "It sounded like a bird."

"But it...wasn't a bird?"

Her green eyes were wide. She shook her head.

Instantly on the alert, Adam drew the wagon to a halt beside the carriage. A quick glance showed him his brothers were still asleep in the back. Rising to his feet, he reached for the rifle he had propped against the wagon seat. As the young man's fingers brushed the polished wood stock two things happened: there was a strange sound, a sort of twang and then a whoosh, and then his stepmother screamed.

Just as the arrow struck his shoulder and sent him toppling out of the wagon and to the ground.