Chapter 10 by Julee

Ben gave Marshal Taylor an appraising look and then with a brief nod he dismounted, willing to hear him out. Relieved, the marshal got down from his horse, as did his men, and the four of them gathered under a nearby tree while the Ponderosa hands, still mounted, waited.

"All right, Marshal. What is it?"

Understanding his impatience, Taylor got to the point. "My purpose in coming here is twofold, Mr. Cartwright. Officially, I've been sent to assist in Dirk Farrow's upcoming trial. The territorial office received word from Sheriff Coffee about the townsfolk being restless and if the trial goes as expected, he wants Farrow out of town and on his way to prison as quickly as possible."

Ben gave a brief nod. "Feelings are running a little high."

"Yes, and as the prime witness, I understand most of it is directed toward you."

Ben shrugged, noncommittally. "Ray Farrow employs a lot of men in these parts, same as me, so I'm not surprised he's got some supporters."

"Misguided support from the gossip-mongers isn't my concern, Mr. Cartwright. It's the paid support hiding behind the blowhards that worries me."

"You mean hired guns?"

"Exactly."

Ben's brow creased. Along with Barney Fuller, Farrow had been his chief competitor in the mining and lumber industries for about five years now and while he sometimes resorted to ruthless business tactics, he'd never known him to go outside the law. In his estimation, Farrow was much more likely to hire an experienced defense lawyer for his son than to hire thugs or gunmen. Still, he'd agreed to hear the marshal out. "Go on, you said your reason for being here was twofold."

Marshal Taylor nodded. "I have a personal interest in this case and if I can prove what I know to be true, Ray Farrow will be joining his son in prison."

At that, anger flashed in the young man's eyes next to him. "Prison is too good for what he done. He oughta swing!"

Marshal Taylor put a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder, but it was clear to Ben that he shared his sentiment. He shook his head and prepared to leave. "Let me assure you, I have no interest in a personal vendetta, so if that's all—"

"Just hear me out," the marshal said, stopping him. "Trust me, it's in your best interest."

Ben eyed him and finally gave a begrudging nod. Despite his anxiousness to get to town, the marshal's forthright manner was beginning to win him over.

Seeing he'd managed to convince him, he gave the younger man by his side a reassuring pat on the back before continuing. "Ten years ago, just after the gold strike in Coloma, I was the sheriff in Placerville. Billy's father, Dave Murdoch, was my deputy."

Ben glanced at Billy and saw a deep hurt in the young man's eyes despite his attempt to hide it behind a hardened façade. He braced himself for what he expected to be a disturbing tale.

"As you can imagine, the promise of gold attracted hundreds of men into the area, including Ray Farrow who was looking to build a small empire. As soon as he arrived, he went to work acquiring one claim after another. At first, there was no reason to believe his acquisitions were anything but legitimate, but as time went on, there were rumors of individual miners being convinced to sell at gun point."

Ben shook his head, unable to fathom that kind of greed.

"Now, Dirk was about eighteen at the time, old enough to work but more interested in play. As far as I could tell, his father looked the other way when it came to his gambling and womanizing as long as he put in a good showing every now and then."

Ben grunted his disapproval.

"Believe me, I shared your opinion, but as long as the boy stayed on the right side of the law, I had no call to comment."

"But that changed, I take it?"

The marshal nodded. "An old prospector turned up dead and I had a witness who said it was Dirk that killed him. He denied it, of course, but with an eyewitness, I had cause to arrest him. That same day, his father showed up offering my deputy and me a bribe. When we refused, he launched a campaign to discredit us. Told folks we'd trumped up the charges against Dirk in order to extort money from him. Some believed it, but that wasn't unexpected." He shook his head in regret. "My mistake was in underestimating him."

Sensing the man's pain, Ben gently prompted him to continue. "In what way?"

Remembering, the marshal narrowed his eyes. "He threatened my family...hired a killer to hold my two sons captive until Dirk was released." He drew a deep breath and looked away for a moment. "Let's just say," he continued, "that things went wrong and my sons and Deputy Murdoch ended up dead."

At that, the hairs on the back of Ben's neck stood on end and his thoughts drifted to his own sons. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said sincerely, "but what happened? Why didn't they pay for their crimes?"

Simple. No proof. Once the word got out, the witness against Dirk refused to testify and if anyone knew anything about my sons' deaths or Deputy Murdoch's they never came forward." He looked at Billy. "After that, I quit my job and my wife and I moved to Sacramento. Mrs. Murdoch and Billy did the same. But after a while…well…the desire to uphold the law was still in my blood, so I took a job as a U.S. Marshal. It meant some traveling, but it also meant I could keep an eye on Farrow."

Ben's brow furrowed in thought. "You said you were on your way to see my son, Adam. Why?"

"About a month ago, I was sent to transport a convicted killer to prison and as fate would have it, he recognized me from my days in Placerville. Turns out, he was Farrow's hired gun." He gave a half-hearted smile. "It wasn't easy facing him…the only thing that stopped me from doing something I shouldn't was the idea that I finally had proof…until I came to my senses and realized no one would take the word of a convicted killer."

Ben gave a slow nod, but was still perplexed. "An interesting turn of events, but what does that have to do with Adam?"

"Well, somewhere along the line, this fella got religion. He said he wanted to make amends and told me the payoff took place in the hotel's dining room…said it was crowded and they shared a table with a young man who witnessed it. Of course, he wouldn't have known the nature of their business, but that young man was your son."

Ben's eyes widened, his expression clearly showing his disbelief. "That's impossible," he said, shaking his head. "Ten years ago Adam was back east in college."

"Was he? Or was he on his way? It would have been the spring of 1850."

Ben thought back. Adam had postponed leaving for college two years after Marie died. So yes, it would have been the spring of 1850. He was nineteen, almost twenty, and he would have been traveling through Placerville and then on to Sacramento to catch the train east. "I suppose you're right, he would have been passing through the area about that time, but even if he did see something, I doubt he'd remember it."

"According to this man, they not only had dinner together that night, they were travel companions all the way to Omaha. If that's true, surely he'd remember the man."

This extra bit of news brought a troubled frown to Ben's face. It was ten years ago, but strangely he found himself angry that Adam hadn't been more discerning. He'd certainly lectured him enough about it at the time. "Well, I guess the only way to know, is to ask. So, why don't we get going."

Once again, he made a move to leave, and once again the marshal stopped him. "Mr. Cartwright, I think you should be cautious about going into town."

"Marshal Taylor, I appreciate you warning me about Farrow, but right now I need to find my sons."

The marshal eyed his deputy, Zak Bentley who'd been silent up until now. "But that's just it, sir, it might be better for you and your sons if you stayed out of town."

"Oh, and why is that?" he demanded from the deputy.

"Ray Farrow could be using your sons to lure you into town. The trial starts in two days and…to put it bluntly…if you're dead, that'll be the end of it and Dirk will go free."

Ben didn't dispute it. He'd already considered that possibility. "That may be, but if my sons are in any kind of danger then all the more reason for me to go." He gestured to his men. "And it isn't as if I'm alone."

The deputy cast a furtive glance at the Sheriff who took up the argument. He liked this Ben Cartwright and hated to keep his sons' injuries from him, but he wanted to hook up with Roy Coffee and see what they could discover without having to worry about Ben getting killed in the process. "All it takes is one well aimed shot. Why not let us scout around first?"

Ben gave him an irritated look. "Marshal Taylor," he said in a determined voice, "I'm going into town and if anything has happened to my sons, it'll be me hunting Farrow down, not the other way around."

"If? There is no if!" Billy declared, his emotions getting the best of him. "One's already been beaten and another's been shot! You need to listen to the marshal, Mr. Cartwright!"

Stricken, Ben glared at the marshal as he swept by him without another word. "Let's ride!" he called to his men.

Exasperated, Marshal Taylor sighed and gave Billy a long look. "Let's go," he muttered.

************

Roy stepped out of the mercantile and headed down the boardwalk to his office. Out of habit, he surveyed the people on the street. It was mid morning and the day was well underway. Unable to stifle it, he let out a loud yawn. He usually grabbed a quick nap right about now. It was the quietest time of day for a sheriff—the saloons were empty and the business day was humming along. Unfortunately, he'd have to forego it today. He scowled and shook his head, wishing the Cartwright boys had stayed home and out of trouble. Frankly, he was surprised Ben hadn't put his foot down, but then again, there hadn't been any reason to think Ray Farrow would resort to violence. Of course, it could have been Dirk's doing last night. He had a feeling he was behind all the rumors circulating in town. He shook his head. It was a shame the judge let that boy out on bail and even more of a shame that folks were listening to his talk. Anyone with a whit of sense ought to know he was just spoutin' off a pack of lies to discredit Ben as a witness. And then there was Tom, acting like a dadblamed fool. With Folly being the only other person besides Doc privy to Adam's comments, he was sure she'd turned his head. Well, he'd let him stew on it for awhile before he pressed him further. In the mean time, he thought, as he opened the door to his office, I'll just grab a quick shave and a bite to eat. But just as he stepped in, the pounding of hoof beats commanded his attention and he swung back around. He wasn't surprised to see who it was.

Catching sight of Roy, Ben brought his horse to an abrupt halt, causing a chain reaction with his men. "Roy," he called anxiously. "Do you know where the boys are?"

Roy squinted up at him, clearly disgruntled by the army of men. "They're over at the Yucca in Folly's room, but before you go…."

Ben's face registered some surprise, but he didn't stop to question it or listen to Roy's parting words. He needed to see his boys.

Roy huffed at the quick dismissal and watched as the group made its way down the street. He wanted to talk to Ben, but not before he got that shave and something to eat. He tiredly reached for the door only to be stopped by the pounding of more hoof beats. His eyes narrowed in dismay when he recognized Marshal Taylor. "Confound it!" he grumbled to himself. "You'd think those jaspers at the territorial office would have more sense than to send him!"

************

Cramped inside Folly's room, the Cartwright brothers caught up on some much needed sleep. With their backs to each other, Adam and Joe shared the bed, while Hoss, mouth open and snoring, napped in a chair. None of them heard the knock at the door until it grew more insistent and was accompanied by a terse shout.

Sputtering awake, Hoss got to his feet. "Dadburn," he muttered, "that Folly's a busy gal."

Groggy from a drug induced sleep, but awake enough to recognize their father's voice, Adam gave a weak chuckle. "I don't think that's a customer, Hoss, leastways not that we know of."

Hoss and Joe grinned, both awake enough to recognize the familiar bellow now. "Better hurry up," Joe quipped, "before Pa breaks down the door."

Hoss hastened to open it and was almost bowled over by his father rushing in. "Hoss," he exclaimed, touching his arm, "are you all right? Where's Adam and Little Joe?"

Hoss gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine and they're right here." He pointed to the bed and then reached over and tugged on the window shade. It snapped up, letting in a flood of sunlight.

Swinging his legs to the floor, Joe stood up and gave his Pa a welcoming smile. "Now, Pa, I know I look kind of banged up, but it's really not that bad."

Ben put a hand behind his youngest son's neck and pulled him into a hug. "Could've fooled me. Who did this to you, boy?"

"Uh, well, that's a long story, maybe you oughta check on Adam first." He was happy to see his Pa, but didn't look forward to telling him he'd ignored his edict about the Yucca. Injured or not, he was going to be far from pleased.

Ben looked past him to the bed. Adam was propped on some pillows, one behind his head and another under his wounded leg. He gave his father a sheepish look. "Sorry I didn't bring 'em home, Pa."

His eyes warm, Ben shook his head, dismissing the notion that Adam needed to apologize. "Never mind about that," he said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I want to know about your leg. How is it?"

Adam flashed a smile, grateful it wasn't worse. "Doc Martin said the bullet went in and out, slick as a whistle."

Glad there were no complications, but upset that it had happened at all, Ben adopted a demanding tone to cover his emotions. "Well, that's some consolation, I suppose, but how did it happen? And why are you holed up here of all places?"