FOUR

"Sir."

"SIR."

"SHERIFF COFFEE!"

Roy Coffee's crisp blue eyes rolled up and over the top of the gold-rim glasses anchored on his nose. They'd been a gift from his late wife and he loved them like he loved her, but he'd be danged if he didn't need a new pair! Adjusting the spectacles again – and with only a glance at the wanted poster with the tiny little writin' on it he was holdin' in his hand – Roy turned his attention to the fresh, young, and edgy deputy named Luke Warren he'd made official only three days before. Luke was standin' in front of his desk lookin' for all the world like he was bound to bust a gut.

"Somethin' I can do for you, Luke?"

"There's been a brawl at the saloon!" he declared, all excited like.

Roy's lips pursed. "Anyone dead?"

"No, sir."

"A Cartwright involved?" He'd heard about Little Joe's smashed foot, but that didn't mean anythin'. It would take a mountain fallin' on that boy to keep him down.

Clearly perplexed as to what was goin' on, the sandy-haired young man – who was from out of the area – said, "I'm afraid I don't know the Cartwrights, sir."

Roy put the poster down on the desk top. "Well, that'll be rectified soon enough," he sighed. "There's four of 'em. Come to town at least once a week."

"Are they trouble, sir?"

He held in his snort. 'Trouble?'

Dang right!

"Ben Cartwright, he's about the straightest man you'll ever meet, Luke," he said as he headed for the coffee pot with its day old coffee. "Honest as the day is long. A man of strong moral character. He don't stand for anythin' that ain't fair. Got him a mite of a temper." He shook his head as he poured. "Get's him in a pickle all the time."

"You said there were four?"

"Patience, boy," the older man said as he took a sip and winced as the thick cold liquid slipped down his throat. "You gotta learn patience if you're gonna make a good lawman."

"Yes, sir."

He winced again. 'Sir'. Eyeing Luke as he took another sip, he wondered if the boy'd lied about his age. He'd said he was twenty-one when he signed up.

Looked more like twelve.

"Ben's got three sons," Roy said, heading back to the desk. "Adam's the oldest. That boy's got as sure a head on his shoulders as you're like to find. Straight up and straight shootin'. There's no nonsense with Adam." He sat down. "Trouble is, that boy's got principles so high he can't quite climb to the top of them and if he gets somethin' in his head, there's no movin' or changin' it." Roy smiled. "I've knocked heads with him and I can tell you, it's a toss-up at to whose is harder!"

Luke blanched.

Roy's grizzled brows leaped.

Was he really that bad?

"And the second and third sons?"

Roy leaned back and smiled. "Ben's second son is called Hoss. His momma gave him another name, but Hoss just suits him fine. That boy's big as a grizzly and just about as determined."

"So he's the troublemaker?"

The older man eyed the eager young one before him. Jumps to conclusions, he noted. Black and white with no gray areas in-between.

Second one, good. First one, bad.

He'd have to hammer that out of him.

"No. Hoss ain't no troublemaker, and you can thank the good Lord for balancin' out that giant frame of his with the biggest heart in the territory for that!" Roy put his cup down. "The only trouble with Hoss is he's got a fierce love that sometimes makes him lose his head."

"A woman, then."

Roy scowled. "Boy, you a fortune teller?"

Luke shook his head.

"Then stop tryin' to read my mind!"

His new deputy blanched, which wasn't a good thing. Bein' one of those pale-skinned, freckled-faced, red-headed types, he was afraid Luke would just plain up and faint the next time 'round.

"Sorry, sir."

Roy slapped his hand on the desk. "And stop callin' me, 'sir'! Dag-nabit! You and me is partners now. Just call me plain old 'Roy'."

"Yes, sir...er...Roy... Sir..."

Well, at least the boy's mama had raised him up right.

"If it's not a woman, may I ask what this 'fierce love' of Hoss Cartwright's is?"

Roy's eyes strayed to the street outside his window, thinking of all the times he'd heard footsteps on his porch and the door had opened and whoever had stepped in had had two words on their lips...

"Little Joe," he breathed.

Luke's brows peaked toward that tousle of reddish hair that flopped on his forehead like a pony's tail swatting flies.

"Little Joe?"

"Littlest Cartwright. Boy's barely a hair under eighteen and he's got a nose for trouble." Roy glanced at the wanted poster again and moved it with his finger. There were times when he thought he might just end up seein' Little Joe's name printed on one of them. "Only time I've had to come down hard on Hoss has been when he was protectin' his little brother."

Luke 's voice was hesitant. "So this time – with Little Joe – you mean he really is trouble?"

Roy sighed. What did he mean with Little Joe? The boy wasn't exactly 'trouble', not as a lawman used the word, but Joe sure as Hell found himself swimmin' in it more often than not.

"The boy's got a hot temper and goes off half-cocked more than half of the time," Roy admitted with a shake of his head. "He's had to learn to hold his own with those two big brothers of his and, I can tell you, boy, he's learned! Joe's not a big feller – Hell, he's practically half the size of Hoss – but he's a scrapper. Most the fights I end up breakin' up at the saloon, he's come out on top!"

Luke hesitated. "You sound like you almost...approve."

He had to admit it. Little Joe Cartwright held a special place in his heart. He'd never had no children of his own but, if he had, he wouldn't have placed an order with the good Lord for one as contrary ornery as Joe. Still, that boy had a way of workin' himself into your heart.

"Joe's not a bad kid," the older man said. "He's just young and God didn't give him the sense to know when he's wrong." Roy paused. "I guess, if you think about it, when I described his pa, I was describing Little Joe. The boy's got a high sense of honor. He don't like injustice, and he don't back down." Roy chuckled. "Which sits him square in the lap of trouble with a capital 'T' just about every time he opens his mouth."

Luke was shaking his head. "This sounds like an...interesting town."

Luke had come from Placerville with his young wife about a month back, taking over the old Smith place on the west side. They had twin boys and seemed to be right nice folks. With his other deputy away, he'd needed an extra hand. The boy's pa was a lawman back East and so he'd thought he'd give him a try.

Snot-nosed or not.

Roy picked up the wanted poster and rose from his chair and went around the desk and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "You got to be home any special time today, Luke?" he asked.

His sandy head shook. "Amy's ma is staying over for a few days, helping with the twins."

"Well, it just so happens I'm about to ride out to the Ponderosa – that's where all them Cartwrights live. Why don't you come along? I'll introduce you to Ben and the boys."

"I'd like that, sir...Roy. But what about the fight at the saloon?"

That's right. He'd been so busy talkin' about the Cartwrights he'd dang near forgot that Luke had come in talkin' about a buster at it.

"You said no one was dead?"

"One man was beat up bad. Another had a bottle broken over his head before he was thrown through the window and shattered the glass. There's a saloon girl yelling about being mistreated, and the saloon keeper's insisting we arrest the man who started it and see that someone covers the damages."

Roy nodded thoughtfully.

"Business as usual," he said with a smile. "Now, let's go see those Cartwrights."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The door to the Ponderosa swung in admitting three snow-covered figures. Two were laughing and the third was emitting a long line of unintelligible Mandarin Chinese. It was followed by a string of sharp words in English.

"Little Joe, Missy Elizabeth, bad, bad, bad! Go to fire, get warm! Hop Sing get dry clothes! Hop Sing fix hot tea to warm up! Hop Sing heat water for baths!" The Chinese man stopped, fists on hips, to glare at them. "You die of cold, you tell Mistah Ben, not Hop Sing's fault!"

The snow in Joe's hair was already melting. Water dripped from the brown ringlets on his forehead into his eyes. He was wiggling his way out of his wet wool coat and stopped with one arm still in it.

Snorting, he asked, "Ain't that gonna be kind of hard, Hop Sing, if I'm dead?"

He heard Elizabeth giggle as their cook let go more Chinese words and then shouted in English, "Father find Little Joe buried, maybe he be happy! No more trouble around here with only number one and two sons!"

"Nah," Joe laughed as the coat fell to the floor, leaving its own puddle. "Pa'd get old and fat fast with only that granite-head and big lovable Hoss around. All he'd do is sit and sip brandy and read books."

"Father work hard. Deserve sit down and sip!" Hop Sing pointed to the floor. "Little Joe pick up coat. Not born in barn!"

Joe couldn't help but laugh when he heard one of his pa's favorite expressions coming out of the Chinese man's mouth. He saluted.

"Yes, sir!" he said as he picked his coat up and hung it on the hook.

Hop Sing did a really mean impersonation of his pa's glare too. He threw his hands in the air as he passed. Muttering more words under his breath, the Chinese man disappeared into the kitchen.

"He's funny," Elizabeth said.

Joe laughed. "Don't you let Hop Sing hear you say that. He means every word."

She had shinnied out of her wet coat too. Looking at her now, Joe felt a twinge of guilt. Elizabeth's golden ringlets were dripping wet as was her dress – and she was shivering.

"Here," he said gently, "let me help you out of your dress."

"You gonna be my 'ma'?" she smiled. "Like Hop Sing's yours?"

He'd told her about that. Probably a mistake.

"I ain't your, Ma, I'm..." Joe's voice trailed off. What was he exactly? Elizabeth liked to call him 'little brother', but he wasn't really that. They were friends but, well, it seemed like somehow they were more. As he sat down on the hearth and began to undo the buttons on the back of her dress, he realized his pa had known what he was talking about. Elizabeth was a child, but a child on the way to womanhood. He laughed quietly as he let go and watched her work her way out of the wet garment. It was funny, him feeling funny.

He certainly had enough experience with women.

Elizabeth turned to look at him. Joe shook his head. She sure was one of the prettiest he'd even seen.

Joe reached out to touch her underpinnings. They were wet too.

"I guess we got a little carried away with that snowball fight," he said with a wince.

"Oh, but it was fun! I don't care that I'm wet," she protested.

"You wait here," Joe said. "I'll be back in a minute."

Bounding up the stairs, he went to his room and pulled the banyan that he'd never worn out of the bureau. Adam had given it to him for his last birthday. Somehow the idea of slipping into a heavy satin robe and sitting around reading books suited Adam, but it didn't suit him. With the garment in hand, he took the steps two at a time until he reached the bottom. Returning to Elizabeth, he held the banyan out so it screened her small form.

"You go ahead and take off those wet under things where I can't see and then we'll wrap this robe around you, all right?" he asked.

"Okay..." she said, a little hesitation in her voice. "How come?"

"'How come', what?"

"How come you can't watch? Pa don't hide when I get dressed."

"Well, that's 'cause he's your Pa. And I ain't hidin'. I just ain't watchin'."

"Why not?"

Did he irritate his brothers when he asked this many questions?

"'Cause I'm a boy and you're a girl."

"Pa's a boy," she said as the first of the garments hit the floor.

"I know he's a boy, but he's your Pa..."

She gave him that look over her shoulder – the one he remembered giving his older brothers. It was a mixture of childish arrogance, annoyance, and just plain cussedness.

The blonde ringlets bobbed.

"Duh."

Another wet garment fell to the floor just like the snow had fallen off that tree branch his last carefully-aimed snowball had hit by mistake. Hop Sing, who was waiting in the carriage, had chosen just the moment he threw it to let off a mighty sneeze. It was accompanied by a long string of words that in no uncertain terms told him it was high-time they headed home. The sneeze made him start, and starting made him come down on his bad foot, which threw off his aim. The snowball flew. The branch shuddered and then shook as he dove for Elizabeth, and then dumped a wagonload of snow right on top of both of them.

Truth to tell, he hadn't had such a hooting good time since the last time he'd gotten into a fight at the saloon!

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at him again. "I'm done."

Joe nodded and then wrapped the heavy garment around her small frame. It was a good thing he wasn't a big man. He had to wrap it almost twice as it was before tying it. Suddenly, the image of Elizabeth wrapped in one of Hoss' gigantic robes came to him and he started giggling.

He'd of never found her again!

The little girl was watching him. "You sure like to laugh, don't you, little brother?"

"Best medicine there is, big sister," he said, wiping away a tear. "And I should know!"

"Little Joe go crazy crazy?" Hop Sing asked in a slightly quieter tone as he entered the great room bearing a tray with two steaming mugs and a small plate of sandwiches. "Hop Sing hear boy laugh like hyena."

Joe was still wiping tears. "I was thinkin' about Elizabeth wrapped in one of Hoss' robes," he snorted.

The Chinese man smiled. Then he frowned. "Missy Elizabeth dry. Why Mistah Joe still wet?"

Joe looked down. The puddle under him was bigger than the one that had been under his coat. He'd forgotten he hadn't changed yet.

"Hop Sing watch little missy. You go upstairs and – "

He was cut off by a knock on the door.

Joe lifted Elizabeth up and placed her in his pa's chair and scooted it closer to the fire. He kissed the top of her head and said, "You get some of that tea in you. I'm gonna see who's at the door."

As she nodded, he limped across the room, trailing water on his pa's wood floor and thinking of the scolding he was gonna get if the water left marks. When he opened the door, wind and snow blew in, followed closely by Roy Coffee and another man he didn't know. The stranger was wearing a badge, so he assumed he must be a new deputy. Looking at their feet, he saw a pile of snow.

At least now he didn't need to worry about the water trailing off of him.

"Hey, Roy," he grinned. "What brings you to the Ponderosa tonight? It ain't too nice out there."

Roy shook snow off his hat and then blew it from his grizzled mustache. "You been swimmin' in this cold, Little Joe?"

He glanced at Elizabeth. Hop Sing was drying her hair with a thick towel.

"Snowball fight. The snow won."

As the older man snorted Joe glanced at the younger one with him. What he saw made his eyebrows rise. It appeared the man disapproved of him and they hadn't even been introduced!

Roy saw him looking. "This here's Luke Warren. Luke and his family's just arrived from Placerville. His pa's been sheriff there."

Joe held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Luke."

Luke eyed him a moment longer and then took it. "Little Joe."

His eyes went to Roy, who was smiling a little too much. "Just Joe, if you don't mind."

The sandy-haired man nodded.

"So, you didn't answer my question," Joe said, turning back to Roy. "What brings you to the Ponderosa?"

"Foolishment!" Hop Sing declared as he moved past, wagging a finger at them before heading to the kitchen. "Many wet men! Many puddles on Mistah Ben's floor! Hop Sing go get many rags!"

Luke looked at bit bamboozled by the whole thing.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Luke," Roy said in a soft aside. "It's Hop Sing really runs the Ponderosa." Then the lawman reached into the pocket of his coat and drew out the folded piece of paper. As he opened it, the older man asked, "Your Pa home, son?"

Joe shook his head.

"Adam?" At another shake, Roy asked hopefully, "Hoss?"

"Nope. Just Hop Sing and me – and Elizabeth. There was a preacher here earlier – the one who got off the stage with Bella – but he left this morning before the worst of the snow hit. As to Pa and Adam, they went to help Hoss. They'll be on the range for a week or so movin' the cattle north before the snow gets too deep. Nearly all the hands went with them."

The lawman's frown deepened.

Joe bristled. "Hey! I can take care of everyone here – "

"Now don't you go firin' up that temper of yours," Roy cautioned. "You'll be provin' everythin' my new deputy here's heard about you, and Luke ain't been in town all that long!" The older man offered the paper to him. As he took it, Joe realized it was a wanted poster. "It's just that this here feller is one mean son-of-a-gun and I ain't exactly sure I feel safe with only you and Hop Sing and the girl here."

Joe looked at the poster. 'Mean son-of-a-gun' about said it all. The man staring out at him from the printed page wasn't the type he would have wanted to come upon unawares in an alley, that's for sure. The outlaw had bushy black hair. A solid fringe of it ran across his forehead like an upside-down cresting wave. He had narrowed slits for eyes and a straight-line mouth that looked like it had never known laughter. Worry or hate or maybe both had plowed deep lines around his lips and dug even deeper furrows between his thick dark brows. Beneath the artist's drawing there was a long list of crimes, chief among them robbery and murder.

Several murders.

"Fleet Rowse?" he asked. "Sounds like a mean cuss. Should I have heard of him?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Roy replied as he took the poster back, folded it, and returned it to his pocket. "Worked for your Pa years ago when you were just a little tyke. 'Fore your ma died."

So, at least twelve years before.

"You're worried he'll head here? Why?"

The older man shook his head. "Well now, if I was a man who made a livin' by takin' what other's hard work has earned, and I'd seen the Ponderosa once upon a time and knew what your Pa kept in that there locked safe, I'd be doin' me a good bit of thinkin' about whether or not I could get that there money for myself. Rowse'll know this time of year you got payroll there waitin' on the men to return from the drive."

It was nearly empty now, but he didn't bother to tell Roy that. Pa had been afraid to leave thousands of dollars in it with Elizabeth at that house for just such a reason.

"Yeah," Joe agreed, "but Rowse'll also know we keep that money safe. Pa left hands to keep watch. They're riding about a mile out from the house."

"True. True." Roy pulled at his whiskers. "But Fleet's gonna know your routine. Goes on right like clockwork year after year." He grinned. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it. You know what I mean?"

Joe glanced at Hop Sing as the Chinese man reentered the room, dry rags in hand. "Look, Roy, I appreciate your concern – and the warning – but we'll be just fine. Won't we Hop Sing?"

He was shooing Roy and Luke back toward the door. "Men go away! We fine here! Take wet boots outside!"

The lawman continued to frown. "You got all the doors and windows locked, Little Joe?"

He laughed. "Heck no! I threw them all open to let in the cold and the snow." Sobering, Joe admitted, "They're all locked, Roy. Like I said, I appreciate your concern and you riding out here to tell us about Rowse, but, really, we'll be okay."

As Roy glanced warily at Hop Sing, who was getting ready to move from mopping the floor to his boots, the older man added softly, "I'm accountable to your Pa, you know that, son, you being under eighteen and all."

"Hop Sing not under eighteen. Hop Sing old man! You go!" their cook said as he rose to his feet. "Hop Sing keep Little Joe and Missy safe! Little Joe smart. Missy smarter. Hop Sing smartest of all!"

Joe's eyes twinkled. "There you go, Roy. You heard it from the emperor's mouth."

The Chinese man's eyes flicked to him. An affectionate smile lit them even if the emotion didn't reach Hop Sing's turned-down lips.

The lawman threw his hands in the air. "You see what I told you, Luke," he said to the younger man who had remained by the door, watching the scene unfold with disbelieving eyes. "Ain't no one like the Cartwrights!" Roy straightened his hat and brought the bill down over his eyes. As he turned away, he said, "Let's get goin', boy. It's a long ride back into town through blowin' snow."

Joe glanced at Elizabeth. She was sitting by the fire with her bare toes pointed at the flames, warming herself. He felt just a twinge of fear for her. Not for himself, mind you, but her.

"You think maybe you should just stay the night, Roy? It's gettin' late and the snow's flying."

The lawman shook his head. "Thanks for the invite, but I got me a warm office back in Virginia City and a mountain of paperwork bigger than any snow drift to go through." Roy glanced at his companion who had his hand on the latch. "'Sides, Luke here's a new pa and I'm sure he wants to get home to that pretty little wife of his and those twins."

Joe followed them as Luke opened the door and the two lawmen stepped out. The wind was howling like a hungry wolf and the snow was steady. There were several inches on the ground. He knew from experience, though, that those inches could soon be one or two feet in the higher elevations.

A sudden concern for his pa and brothers hit him. They were out in this while he was here, at the ranch house, safe and warm. Glancing up, he tried to judge the sky. From the looks of it, it would be at least a couple of hours before the storm moved on. And only Heaven knew if there was another one behind it.

Joe nodded absentmindedly. "Sounds good. You take care on the road, Roy, you hear?"

Luke nodded and Roy waved as the two men mounted their horses, turned the animal's noses toward town, and began to move. Joe watched until they disappeared around the barn, becoming one with the white night. Then he turned, intending to go into the house. At that moment, however, he heard another sound.

A woman singing.

Turning back, Joe squinted into the blowing snow, looking for the source. It wasn't two minutes later that a snow-covered rig, driven by a single woman, came in from the opposite side of the barn. The rig crossed the yard and stopped in front of the house.

The woman in the carriage was all bundled up. She had a winter hat on and a scarf wound around her throat. Between them they concealed just about everything but her eyes.

"Is this the Ponderosa?" she asked in a muffled voice.

Joe limped toward her. "It sure is, Ma'am. I'm Joe Cartwright. Can I help you?"

Her small form seemed to crumple. "Oh, thank God! I thought I would never make it! I must have driven right past the house the first time!"

"You could've chosen a better night to visit," he laughed. A second later he offered his hand. "What brings you out here?"

The woman took his hand and let him help her out of the buggy. "I'm Mrs. Guthrie," she said, somewhat breathless. "Here to help with the little girl."

That explained it. Her being a widow and all. He'd wondered why she had come out alone.

"Pa said you were coming. Sorry I wasn't here to help you. You're early."

"I thought, with the storm..."

Joe reached into the carriage and drew out a large carpet bag. "This all there is?" he asked, looking in the buggy's back seat.

"That's it. I don't need much. Mister Cartwright said it would only be for a week or so. Maybe two at most."

He nodded. "Until Monday. Pa and my brothers are due back then."

Joe linked his arm with hers and slowly led the way, making certain she didn't trip on something hidden beneath the snow. When they opened the door, wind and more snow blew in with them.

He could hear Hop Sing sigh clear across the room.

Elizabeth, who was still by the fire, turned to look at them. Then she rose and crossed the room, dragging the ends of his banyan on the floor behind her.

"Who's this?" she asked.

Joe turned toward her. His look was apologetic. Here they went, with Pa's old battle-axe there to watch over them like they were two snot-nosed kids. As the woman behind him divested herself of all of her winter gear, he said, "This is Mrs. Guthrie, Bella. The woman Pa – "

Elizabeth looked stunned.

Puzzled, Joe turned toward Mrs. Guthrie.

'Stunned' was the right word!

Standing before him was a beautiful woman – maybe thirty years old – with a head of wavy chestnut hair, green eyes, a peach-perfect complexion, and a wide, generous mouth. The cold had given her cheeks a crisp apple red bloom.

Joe swallowed and his eyebrows popped toward the curly fringe of hair on his forehead. "I...didn't get your first name."

She laughed. "I didn't give it. Aurora."

Aurora.

He was in love.