FOUR
Joe awoke early, stiff and sore. Unlike when he had arrived, Carrie had a full house and he had opted to sleep on the floor. Ballard and Neville had decided to work a few hours and make the small barn a fit place for living. They'd asked him to go with them, but the look out of Carrie's eyes told him she didn't want to be alone any more than he wanted her to be alone.
For a lonely cabin way up on the side of a mountain in the middle of a big wild wood, an awful lot of things were happening.
Too many things were happening.
He'd tried to talk to Carrie about it before turning in, but she'd been strangely distracted and just plain not herself. He'd asked her if she was sick. That was the one time she did seem normal. She'd snapped and told him to look in a mirror. He had, by accident, as he washed his hands and face at her washstand. The trail the bullet had left was ugly. The edges were a deep red, almost black, and the wound was hot to the touch. He'd had enough bullet wounds to know that foreign matter must have been driven into it when he fell. He was by the water and the ground had all kinds of dead and dying plant matter around it, plus dung from the animals who drank there. He'd meant to wash the gash out with soap and water and dose it with alcohol again. Before doing so, he had sat down to rest and that had been the end of that.
At the moment all he had was a persistent headache, though he knew it could get worse. What worried him was that a growing infection would rob him of that 'edge' a man needed to survive in the West. The wilderness was an unforgiving mistress. One mistake. Just one. That's all it took and a man was dead.
A man or those he loved.
Carrie was asleep beside the fire. He walked over to her and tugged the blanket that covered her up to her chin. The older woman shifted but didn't wake up. Next, he went to check on the woman they had all risked their necks for the night before, the one called Nonie Landes. Joe sat on the bed beside her. He reached out and touched her face with his fingers. The skin was soft and elastic now. All signs of the frost nip were gone. She was breathing normally and seemed to be sleeping naturally as well. She'd be groggy and weak for a day or so from the exposure, but after that should return to normal.
Whatever 'normal' was for Nonie Landes.
As he made a motion to rise, Nonie stirred. She shifted and moaned and then her eyes opened. They were clouded with pain. There was a reason for that. When Ballard had placed her in the bed and unwrapped her and they had checked her over, they found that Neville had been right. Her left leg was badly twisted. He couldn't find any broken bones, but that didn't mean they weren't there.
Joe cupped her face in his hand and waited until her eyes focused on him. "Hey, there, Mrs. Landes," he soothed, "you're safe. There's nothing to worry about."
Her eyes opened and closed languidly. "Who...?" It came out as a dry whisper.
Joe reached over to the bedside table. They'd pulled it over and put a pitcher of water on it the night before, just in case she woke and asked for it. He picked up the cup, filled it, and then gently lifted her head and fed the cool liquid to her.
When he let her down, he asked, "Better?"
She nodded. A second later, she tried again, "Who...are you?"
He smiled. "Name's Joe Cartwright. But don't you worry about who I am, you need to rest."
"Joe...Cartwright?" She said it in a funny way, almost like she knew it.
"That's right."
Her eyes roamed about the space she was in and then moved to the cabin's interior. "Where..."
"Like I said, you're safe. Now, you need to get some sleep. You'll feel better later and then I can answer your questions."
"I feel...fine...now," she said, her voice gaining strength. "Stop...treating me like...I'm a child. Tell me...where...I am!"
Joe's brown eyebrows did a little dance. He pursed his lips and pulled a hand over them. Then he said, "In the middle of a snowstorm, in a bed in a cabin in the middle of a million trees, arguing with the man who just risked his life to save you."
She blinked and looked right at him. "Cartwright?"
Again, he sensed it wasn't new to her. "Yeah. Something wrong with that?"
Her eyes flicked to the bandage on his head. "What...happened?"
"Oh, this?" He touched it. "Someone mistook me for a deer. I bet you can see the resemblance." His brows peaked. "No?"
She sighed and turned her head into the pillow. "You're...an...idiot..."
A second later, she was asleep.
It wasn't exactly the first encounter he'd hoped for.
Rising to his feet, Joe pulled the covers up again and then stood there looking at Nonie Landes. Her hair was amber as a stone set around a lady's neck and glinted like its golden housing. The waves curled naturally like his. She had a pale complexion that the color was just returning to. Her face was heart-shaped with rose petal lips and long black lashes, and the eyes they hid – that had looked at him with something like disdain – were brown as his pa's.
Whoever he was, Mister Landes was a lucky man.
Turning, he looked out the window by the door. The sun was up. It was time to go to work. He'd already used up four out of the seven or eight days he had told his pa it would take to help Carrie prepare for the winter. From the look of it the snow had fallen off and the wind died down, so hopefully between them – him, Neville, and Ballard – they could make up for the time he'd lost. There was still time enough to get the wall finished, to lay in hay and straw for the animals, to strengthen the barn, and make sure Carrie had enough food to carry her through. He was sorry he hadn't been able to get the well fixed before the snow flew. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that there was simply nothing wrong with it. That, maybe, it had been tampered with.
Who knew what Jason Milburn was capable of?
Joe crossed to the table and caught the coat Carrie had loaned him off the back of the chair. He pulled it on and then wound the scarf around his throat and put his hat on his bandaged head. There was nothing but to get to it.
Hard work never hurt anyone, after all.
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When he got to the barn, Joe found Neville was alone. The city slicker was trying to block the chinks in the log wall with split wood chips and failing miserably. There was plenty of dung on the floor in the stalls. He'd have to show him how to use it.
"Neville," Joe said in greeting. "Where's Ballard?"
The older man glanced at him as the wood chips fell through to the outside. "Hunting."
Joe winced. "A real deer this time, I hope."
"I heard about that. How's your head?"
"Hard as ever," Joe replied with a smile. "It's good to see you hard at work."'
The city slicker scowled. "It keeps my mind off...other things."
"Like Mrs. Landes?" Joe gauged Neville's reaction. It was something less than paternal. If he had to guess, he'd say the man was in love with the woman in his charge. "I talked to her a bit."
Neville dropped the chips. "You what? I have to see her!"
As he brushed past Joe caught his arm. "She's sleeping. Let her be for a bit. The next time she wakes up she'll know who you are." He paused. "Am I making something out of nothing, or is she a bit of a spitfire?"
"Mrs. Landes? Why, she comes from one of the finest New York families."
"And?"
"She's been to the finest finishing schools and is heir to a great estate."
Joe grinned. "Still waiting."
"And...yes, she's a hell of a spitfire. I've never met a woman more headstrong and determined."
"Well, I have," Joe said as he moved into the barn. "She's sitting in there by the fire."
"The old woman?"
"Miss Carrie ain't old," he said with a smile, "she's well-seasoned and don't you forget it."
Neville straightened his gloves. "Is she a relation of yours?"
"Carrie? No. We're just friends."
"If you don't mind my saying so, it seems an...odd pairing."
He laughed. "No, I don't mind you saying so. Actually, I have to agree. There's just something about that old woman. They don't make 'em like that anymore."
Neville glanced in the direction of the house. "Well, there might be one more..."
Joe grabbed the tool he needed from the bench located on the right side of the barn. As he passed Neville, he slapped his arm.
"Coming?"
Neville stuttered. "W...where?"
"To fix the wall in that stubborn old woman's cabin so she won't scare the snow away when it comes to call."
Neville looked up as they stepped out of the barn. It had almost stopped snowing.
He made a face.
"Maybe it knows Nonie is here."
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Hoss found his pa in the barn early the next morning saddling Buck.
"I was gonna do that, Pa. How come you're up so dad-burned early?"
The older man pulled on his saddle strap. "I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about Jason Milburn. I know his kind. How could I have thought he would give up so easily?"
"You think he's the one lookin' into Miss Carrie's affairs?"
"Jenks seemed to think so," he said as he fastened the buckle.
"What you suppose he's tryin' to do, Pa? That old woman ain't ever gonna sell that land of hers."
"No, so he will have to find some way to drive her off it, or make her want to leave it. Or..."
"You think he'd hurt her?"
The older man rested his hands on the saddle and looked at him. "I don't know what I think, son, other than we need to get there to help Joe as quickly as we can. Jason Milburn doesn't care who he hurts just so long as he gets what he wants."'
"You think he'd hurt Joe, I mean, really hurt him? He's got to know that he's the first one the sheriff would go after."
"That's why he'll be subtle. He has Marks back and that man knows how to do things so they don't show."
"What do you mean?"
"Marks is clever as Doc Belden said. A cabin burns in the middle of the night. The people inside are killed." His pa mounted Buck and turned his nose toward the road. "Who's to say whether it was murder or an accident?"
Hoss nodded. "Sure thing, Pa. But you gotta count on little brother. He's right smart. I'm sure he'd thought of the same thing."
"I'm sure Joe has too. And I'm sure he would stop it if he saw it coming. Marks is a snake. He'll hide in the grass and strike when your brother least suspects it."
The big man sighed. "You're sure those bad men are there, aren't you?"
"Call it parents' intuition or the whisper of God. Call it what you will, son, it's shouting at me that time is running out." His pa nodded toward his horse. "Get your things, Hoss. I want to ride as soon as you're ready."
The big man nodded. "All I needs my gear, Pa. I'll be back out in five."
True to his word, Hoss was back in under five minutes. As he mounted his horse, he looked at the older man beside him. Every muscle in his pa's frame was aimed forward, toward Crescent Mountain.
Aimed toward Little Joe.
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Nonie Landes awakened to the scent of coffee and cereal cooking in a pot. She lay there, her eyes closed, breathing it in and remembering. She'd been here before – long before. It was hard to believe it now, she'd spent so many years in New York. She'd come to call her father's brother 'Pa', and Aunt Ruth, 'Ma' before the formal life they led changed it as she grew into 'Honored Father' and 'Dear Mother'. She had very few memories of her natural parents. Through a little girl's eyes her pa had been handsome and strong, with a wry smile and a way of handling her ma that made the stern woman with the dark blonde hair crumple with laughter and love. As a child she remembered running wild in the woods with some kind of a well-muscled pup trailing after her. She'd spent a lot of time with her pa since her ma was always working, and had her mother tell her often enough that she needed to stop being a Tom Boy and learn to be a lady. That last day, when she left, her ma had bid her goodbye and then turned away, going back to her chores; back to her back-breaking labor. She hadn't even returned her wave as she rode off in the carriage with the representative of her wealthy uncle, headed for Virginia City where they would catch the coach to New York. She should hate her, but she didn't.
Carrie Pickett was why she was here, and why she had done...what she had done.
She'd written her ma over the years. In the beginning a letter or two would come back every month or so. When she went away to college, the letters ceased and there had been none in the last ten years. She'd thought the older woman was dead. Finally, a private investigator she hired had found a reference to Carrie Pickett. It had to do with a land claim. Neville confirmed that it was not an old claim, but freshly made within the last year. She'd contacted the Carson City Land Office and exchanged telegrams with a man named Jenks. He explained that another man – Jason Milburn – had tried to buy the claim and there had been some kind of trouble involving a man named Cartwright.
Joe Cartwright.
She, of course, had sought out Mister Milburn and he had filled her in on everything. Though he put a bad spin on the young man who had been with her mother at the time the claim was filed – saying he was violent and not to be trusted – she'd figured out quickly enough that Cartwright and Milburn were business 'enemies'. Spending time at the Ponderosa had confirmed it. Joe Cartwright's pa was a wealthy man with the largest spread in Nevada. They'd wanted the land too. but her mother had won.
Unfortunately.
She'd met Jason Milburn in New York about half a year back. He'd been in the city to conduct some international business. He was a nice enough man, if a bit fawning, and had been excited when she made her proposal to him. He wanted the land. She hinted that she would sell it to him once it was hers – if he could convince her mother to leave the Piney Woods and return to New York City with her. She had her own home now and it was so empty since Robert had died. She wanted her mother with her.
She gave Milburn permission to do whatever it would take so long as no one was hurt.
He'd sent her a few reports with minimal details of the campaign that had started at the end of the summer. Milburn said he had begun to harass her mother in little ways – removing tools, opening the corral and letting the animals out; making sure her dry well would never see water. He said he was slowly wearing her down and that soon the older woman would be relieved to turn the land over to her. Milburn was an avaricious opportunist. She would have had nothing to do with him had it not been for her need. She'd considered contacting the Cartwrights but from what she found out about them, she knew they would be no part of her tricking her mother off the land her father had worked. No, she'd needed a crook and a crook was what she got.
Which was why she had decided to come out West.
She'd always planned to come, after college ended she thought, but then she had met Robert and they had married and his business was in New York and it simply never happened. Then, Robert took ill and died. She was like her mother now, widowed, alone, and in need of family.
Carrie Pickett was her family.
Nonie heard the door open and cracked an eye to see who it was. Her breath caught at the sight. The older, no, old woman who came in the door was bent with age and the weight of the large piece of firewood she was carrying. Her thinning hair, which was a mixture of gray and a dirty blond, was pulled back tightly around her face and wrapped in a bun. She wore simple clothing – homespun, no doubt – that consisted of a rust-colored petticoat with a heavy long-waisted forest green shirt over the top. It was held in place by a cream colored apron that had seen many years of service. Her once pretty face had a faraway look on it as she labored across the room and carefully laid the wood beside the fire.
Nonie drew a deep breath. She opened her eyes and said, "I'm awake. Mother."
The old woman stiffened. A shaking hand went to her breast. She didn't turn but said, "I rightly thought that was you."
Nonie shifted. Her left leg complained, but the pain wasn't anything she couldn't take. Tossing the coverlet aside, she sat up in the bed and noticed that her blouse had been changed. As she wondered why, her eyes took in the cabin where she had been born, noting how tiny it seemed compared to the one in her memory.
"Are we alone?" she asked.
The old woman started bustling about, stoking the fire and laying on the new log. "All the men folk are out workin'."
Nonie hesitated, making an effort to curb the anger that was rising in her. What had she expected – open arms and a warm kiss on the cheek? That would have ill-suited the severe woman from her memory.
Swinging her legs over the bed, she rose to a seated position. "I hoped you would be happy to see me."
Her mother stopped. Then she wilted like a flower in summer heat. "Sorry to say, child, I ain't."
That was like a slap across the face. "Oh?"
The older woman pivoted sharply on her heel. She took a step and rested one hand on the back of a chair. "Whatever are you doin' here, child? This ain't no place for the likes of you. Look at you! You're a lady." Both her look and her voice softened. "Just like I always dreamed you was."
Her jaw tightened. "What about my dreams?"
A frown made the wrinkles even deeper on her mother's forehead. "Your dreams?"
Nonie stepped down. She tried her leg and found it wasn't too bad, so she took a few steps forward. "Yes, my dreams. When you and Pa sent me off to live with Uncle Eleazar, did you ever consider I had dreams of my own about my future?"
"You was a child," she said, dismissing her and her dreams with a gesture of her aged hand. "What would you a knowed?"
"I knew this place," she said, her voice hushed with memory. "The tall pines, the wind talking to them; the days of sunshine and shadow. And I knew what I wanted, to be here with you and pa, not in New York."
"Weren't no future for you here."
"Since when does finding some hard-working local boy and settling down to homestead mean a woman doesn't have a future?" Her voice and her temper were rising. "It's what you did!"
"And look at what I got! My Amos gone. Nothing but hard labor and years of loneliness to come. Look at these hands!" Her mother approached her, holding her hands out. "Look at the calluses and scars. My fingers are so bent with age it's hard to 'do', and 'do' is what I have to if I want to stay alive." The older woman reached out and caught one of her hands in her own. The touch was electric. "Now, look at your'n. They're soft and white. The hands of a lady."
"And a widow," she said, her tone short, "looking at years of loneliness, only in a town full of strangers."
"W-widow?" her mother echoed.
She drew a little breath and nodded. "Last year. His name was Robert." She squeezed the hand that held hers. "I wish you could have known him."
"No little ones?"
The anger knocked at the door of her heart again. "No. I won't have any. I will never have any!"
Her mother released her. She walked, haltingly, wearily over to the chair in front of the fire and sat down. "Did I hurt you so much?"
She couldn't resist the urge to drive the knife in deeper. "Yes."
The older woman was looking at the fire. "We talked about it right here, your pa and me. Right before this here fire. Eleazar and his wife couldn't have children, and we couldn't provide for you. We knew he'd take care of you, give you a home, food, an education..." She paused. "It near broke your pa's heart."
She walked to her mother's side and looked down. "Well, it did break mine."
"Child..."
Nonie drew a breath. Then she knelt before her mother and took her hand. "I know you meant well. From the world's perspective, you did right. But not from the perspective of a little girl who wanted nothing but to remain in the Piney Woods. So, you see, I understand why you are still here. But, mother, it's time to go."
Her mother's eyes flicked to her face. "What are you talkin' about? I ain't never leavin' here. I'm gonna be buried by my Amos down by the lake grove."
"Mother, I've come to take you back to New York with me."
"What?"
She could see the anger rising in the older woman, painting her mother's cheeks a rosy red and putting the fire in her eyes.
"It's no different from what you wanted for me. There's no one to provide for you here. I know you have to struggle for food and to survive. Look at those hands you showed me! They're bent and arthritic. Soon you won't be able to hold a shotgun or carry a pail. Who will bring you water? Who will chase the wolves away, Mother, who?!"
"I got friends."
"Like Joe Cartwright?"
"Now don't you go sayin' nothin' bad about that boy," she warned.
"I learned about the Cartwrights, Mother. Joe's father has hundreds of thousands of acres of land. His sons work it with him. Joe doesn't have time to take care of you. How many times have you seen him in the last year?"
"Twice," the old woman muttered.
"Two times, for maybe seven days. That's two weeks out of fifty-two in a year. He's not here in the spring when the floods come. He's not here through the winter. He's not here for planting and harvesting. Mother, you are only one woman and you simply can't do this alone!"
"I can do anythin' I rightly put my mind to, and don't you go sayin' different, girl!"
She released her hand and rose to her feet. "Mother, no, you can't. Not anymore. You're going to come back to New York with me!"
"Now you listen here, child – "
"I am not a child! And I will not listen to you. Why should I? You gave up any right to tell me what to do when you sold me to Aunt Ruth and Uncle Eleazar!"
"Sold you..."
"Well, what else would you call it? They couldn't have a child. You had one you didn't want." She was shaking with rage. "I'm sure it was a very profitable deal."
She didn't see it coming. Her mother slapped her.
At that moment the door opened and, along with a cold wind, Joe Cartwright blew in. His gaze went to Carrie first, and then to her. There was a fierce protective light in them.
A second later he tipped his hat and said, "Mrs. Landes. Good to see you up and moving, Ma'am."
It sounded funny coming from him. Mrs. Landes. Joe might be a year or two older than her, but then again that could be the rancher's life he led. He could be younger.
"Mister Cartwright," she returned.
He grinned. If she had to admit it, a charming grin. He tossed his hat on the table and then removed his black gloves and did the same with them. "Call me Joe. You make me feel like my father."
"Joe." She hesitated, concerned that such a permission would make him too familiar too quickly, but finally she said, "And you may called me Nonie."
"Nonie. Is that a nickname or what your parents named you?"
She stiffened. "Neither. I chose it myself."
"Oh." His expression showed he knew he had stepped on toes. "Well, it sure is a pretty one. And how are you Miss Carrie," he asked as he rounded the table and planted a kiss on the older woman's head. "Feisty as ever, I hope."
The older woman didn't look up. She was staring at her hands. "I ain't feelin' so well, Joe," her mother said, her voice small.
He touched her forehead. "No fever." Joe paused and then asked, "That hand isn't bothering you again, is it?"
"What's wrong with her hand?" Nonie asked.
Joe looked at her, but before he could answer her mother spoke. "Now, don't you go tellin' her nothin', Joe Cartwright. It ain't none of her business!"
Joe frowned as he scratched back of his head. "Why do I get the feeling you two know each other?"
He mother was shaking her head. "No, Joe. No. We don't rightly know each other at all."
"Now, Miss Carrie, you've been known to tell tales now and then." The handsome young man turned and looked her. "Is that true? You don't know each other?"
Nonie's jaw was set. Her eyes flint striking steel.
"Not anymore." She reached for her coat where it lay at the end of the bed. "I'm going to go find Neville."
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Joe watched the stranger go and then dropped to his knees in front of Carrie. He could see she was in pain. The older woman's hands were locked around her midriff and her slender shoulders shook with stifled sobs.
Placing his hand over hers, he asked, "Carrie, what's wrong?"
"Everythin', Joe," she wailed. "Everythin'."
"So you're not sick?"
She shook her head.
He looked toward the door. "Does it have something to do with Nonie Landes?"
She moaned again and tears began to flow. He was at a loss as to what to do, so he just pulled her close and held her while she cried. It took a few minutes, but finally she stopped and straightened up and looked at him.
Joe reached out to chase one last tear from her cheek. "Now, will you tell me what this is about?"
Her voice was small. "I don't know as I can, Joe."
"Well, then, let me guess. Nonie's related to you somehow. Maybe a niece?"
A little of the old Carrie surfaced in the wary look on her face. "How'd you figure that?"
"There's no missing the resemblance. So, she's not a niece." He paused, thinking about the high-spirited woman who had just walked out the door. And then, he made an intuitive leap. "She's not your daughter. Is she?" When she said nothing, he went on, astonished. "Carrie, you never said you had any other family. This is wonderful!"
"No, it ain't, Joe. No. It ain't! She's come here to take me away from my Piney Woods!"
"To live with her?"
"She wants me to go to that there New York and live in one of them big cities full of noise and smoke and strangers. There ain't no pines there, Joe. No a sight or scent of them. Why, I'd just curl up and die!" The older woman shot to her feet. "I ain't goin' nowhere! I'm dyin' here and bein' buried next to my Amos!"
Joe knew the older woman wouldn't listen to reason, but he had to try anyway. "Carrie, listen to me. I was going to ask you to come back to the Ponderosa with me," he held up a finger to silence her, "just for the winter. Maybe you could go with her, just to try it out."
"You was gonna take me from my Piney Woods?" she asked, disbelieving. "You, Joe?"
"No, Carrie, I was going to ask you to visit, just until the weather broke. You'd be safe –"
With each question she poked him in the chest to emphasize her point. "Where was you when Amos died and I weathered my first winter? Where was you, boy, when I labored over that sick cow day and night and brought her through? Where was you when the well went dry and I had'ta make it through a hot summer haulin' water all the day and night long?"
The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings. "Carrie, you're strong, I know that, and so long as nothing goes wrong, you can handle just about anything. But look at what happened when we first met. If I hadn't come along, you would have died from that infected bite."
She turned away from him and crossed her arms. "Maybe, maybe not."
"If Nonie came all the way out here from New York, she must love you a lot. Can't you do it for her?"
She shot him a look. He would've been dead if the barrel had been loaded. "She don't love me. She's just here to get my Piney Woods."
He threw his hands up in the air. "Not this again!"
"Yes, 'this' again. That there young'un will get me off this land and then find a way to sell it. You mark my words. Her pa layin' there in the ground don't mean nothin' to her." Carrie's shoulders sank and her voice fell to nothing. "I don't mean nothin' to her. And why should I? I sent her away."
"You what?" Joe couldn't believe what he heard. "Sent her away? Why?"
"Look around, Joe. There ain't nothin' here. Truth be told, my Amos failed at everythin' he tried 'cept bein' a mountain man. What hope did the child have of growin' up to be anythin' other than a barefoot savage?" The older woman drew a deep breath. "Amos' brother had money and his wife had no child."
Joe couldn't imagine. If he understood the depth of love a parent had for a child at all from his pa's example, he just couldn't imagine the sacrifice Carrie had made to give hers a chance at a better life.
He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Nonie doesn't understand, does she?"
A fresh tear trailed down the older woman's face.
"Carrie?"
"That ain't her name. It's Anne. She don't use her name, Joe. Like she don't want nothin' to do with what she was."
"Carrie Pickett, you look at me." He waited until she did. "Anne's here. She's asking you to go with her. She loves you." He stopped her protest with a look. "And don't you go saying that she's only here to take your land. You know how well that worked the last time when you tried it with me. Carrie, I think what you have to understand is that by refusing to go with her, you are saying this land is more important to you than she is."
She wouldn't meet his eyes. "It ain't that, Joe. It ain't that."
"What is it then?"
She looked toward the door. "Anne's a lady. What would she do with an old mountain woman like me? I cain't talk right. I don't know the first thing about proper manners. I'd just shame her." She looked up at him, more unspent tears in her eyes. "No, the best thing I can do for Anne is stay right here with my Amos and let her go."
When Carrie walked away, she looked like she had aged a good ten years. Her shoulders were bent with the burden of the choice she had made so long ago, and the choice she was making today. Joe didn't know if it was right or wrong, but he did know one thing.
He needed to talk to Anne.