The journey to Dewton had felt as though it would never end, and every minute of every mile had been fraught with worry. When the whiteout had forced Ben to stop for more than a day, his fears became harder to ignore. Trapped in a hotel while the storm raged outside, there was nothing for Ben to do except think and worry, wondering if his boys were alright and praying their captors didn't get nervous or impatient and hurt or kill Joe and Hoss as a result. He could do nothing except ask that God intervene on their behalf, and he had no way of knowing if his prayers were being heard or answered.

He knew only too well that sometimes God's answer was no. He knew that, and accepted it in his heart, but it was difficult to remember and have faith that everything would work out for good even if it seemed unlikely when it was his boys in danger, possibly already dead. It didn't matter that they'd been in danger before, that they could have died a hundred times over one way or another. Every time was just as bad as the first, each time the fear Ben experienced was just as real.

When he was finally able to set out once more, he felt the weight of his years not in their number, but in the amount of grief that he had to carry with him, and he felt doubt that he could carry even a little bit more. He'd lost so many friends over the years, and his three wives. Despite his wealth and his land and his influence, in the end the only thing that mattered to him in this world was his boys. Everything he did was to make sure that he left them a legacy not only of ranching, how to raise cattle and to conduct logging operations without completely stripping the forest, but also teaching them what was moral and just not merely through lengthy word explanations, but by daily examples. So long as he lived, he knew he was an example to his sons. No matter how old they got, they would always look to their father to show them the kind of men they wanted to be.

As he rode along, he found himself wishing that Adam were here. All of his boys were independent in their ways, but Adam had ever had his sights set far beyond the borders of the Ponderosa. He wanted to see the world, be a part of it, and make his own way. Ben didn't resent that, though he often missed Adam's wise council, cool temperament and steady reliability. Ben wouldn't wish this fear on anyone, least of all one of his sons, but to not make the ride alone would have made it much easier, especially since Adam was nearly always able to keep his fears at bay until they were either realized or proven to not have any real foundation. Ben knew that, underneath the surface, Adam was perhaps truly the most sensitive of the brothers, and he knew that the real reason he wished for Adam's company was merely that this would be more bearable if he weren't alone. Thus it was a selfish wish, the same as the one that kept him hoping that Adam would someday return home to stay.

Buck seemed to sense Ben's fear, but more importantly is urgency, because the horse kept trying to pick up the pace. The big buckskin was of a calm disposition, and normally couldn't be bothered to go faster than an easy walk without prodding. The horse was a dependable animal. Even during extensive shootouts, Buck seldom spooked, and would stay where Ben had put him with nothing but a ground tie to hold him where he was. Once when Ben had been shot, Buck had gone calmly and methodically in search of help, even though he too had been injured. Now the horse pulled at his bit and tried to hurry along, even though the snow was deep and not at all to his liking.

More than once, Ben found himself pulling the horse to a stop and patting his neck, trying to discourage his mount from overexertion. The horse had a willing heart, but he didn't understand that the journey was a long one and he couldn't make it without conserving his energy. Ben supposed the horse was acting up because Ben himself wasn't calm inside and it was taking every bit of self control he had not to set the horse to a gallop and ride him into the ground just to reach Dewton a little faster. The hell of it was that Buck seemed willing to do that for his master even without any request that he do so.

It occurred to Ben that, hard to believe as it seemed, Buck was very nearly as old as Joe. Like Joe, Buck had been born on the Ponderosa. Ben hadn't been looking for a new mount at the time, but it had been love at first sight when the little golden colt with his points of black came stumbling into the world. He hadn't looked like much at first, truth be told. He'd been born darkish, with a black stripe down his back and almost no black on his legs at all. But his newborn baby fuzz had quickly begun to shift, and it was soon clear he'd one day be a beautiful buckskin, a color which to ranchers had always denoted speed, stamina and long life. But it was more his gentle nature and seemingly in-born trust of people that quickly endeared him to Ben. That and his boys all nagging him not to sell the foal, to keep him for himself. Especially Joe, who was young at the time and very sentimental about horses.

Some part of Ben had known he'd keep the horse. He'd handled all the buckskin's training right from the start, and never let any inexperienced hands so much as touch him. But in his own mind, Ben had convinced himself that he would sell the foal, who would be worth quite a lot not only because of his color, but his fine lineage and beautiful conformation.

The boys had discussed it among themselves, and finally decided on their argument, the timing, and their messenger. Adam was the oldest, but also the most capable of logical debate and discussion, which made him best equipped to counter any argument Ben might make to sell the foal. Their chosen timing was the holiday season, and they seemed to know that it was towards the end of the year that Ben's heart would most be rebelling against the idea of selling the buckskin. Adam had made his assault in Ben's office, probably so his brothers could eavesdrop from upstairs.

"You could consider him a Christmas present to yourself," Adam had reasoned.

Ben had vetoed that argument, but Adam had persisted. Finally he had pulled from his pocket the money that he, Hoss and Joe had all earned working on the Ponderosa, and also taking up odd jobs at other ranches. He placed the money on the desk, looked right at his father and said, "If you won't keep him, then we'd like to buy him. Count it, you'll see it's the best offer you'll get."

Ben had to admit that it was true, and Adam sat back with satisfaction.

"And what do you plan to do with this horse, once you have him in your possession?" Ben inquired.

"We plan to give him as a gift," Adam replied, "We've talked it over, and we agreed that there's only one man we know of who should have such a fine horse as that one's going to be."

"You're not going to let me get rid of Buck, are you?" Ben asked.

Adam shook his head, "No. And if you try selling him to someone else, we'll track them down and buy him back. You're keeping that horse, Pa, so get used to the idea."

Ben didn't like being told what to do, but he knew that he was no match for the united determination of all three of his boys. In the end, he'd let them buy Buck and give the colt to him for Christmas.

"That should teach you to spend your money more wisely," Ben admonished them.

That had been a good Christmas, Ben recalled.

He also remembered that it had taught the boys nothing. Years later, they had tried again to express their love by buying him another fine horse, only this time the animal hadn't belonged to him to begin with. Unfortunately, the beautiful white horse had been shot and killed on the journey home. The noble creature had however managed to carry Joe across dangerous land, and delivered the youngest Cartwright safely into his father's arms. Though he'd only seen the horse after it was dead, Ben was grateful for what it had done. Even so, he supposed it was best that he not have to divide his loyalty between two horses, especially as Buck had by then served faithfully for many years.

Eventually, Ben made it to Dewton. He realized then that Buck's persistent and out of character obstinance and insistence on trying to pick up the pace had distracted him. He'd been so busy trying to get the horse to behave that he hadn't had the time to actually worry. Now he'd arrived, all the worry came crashing back in, and he reined Buck to a stop.

Warily, he took in the aspect of the town, registering in his mind where each building was and what label -if any- it bore on its front. It was late afternoon, and the early sunsets at this time of the year combined with the heavy cloud cover in the sky ensured it would be dark in a couple of hours. That was when Ben expected to be contacted. In the meantime, he decided to register in the hotel where he'd been told to wait.

Riding slowly down the main street, then back up, he located two hotels. From the outside they looked roughly the same except for the name sign hanging above their doors. Unfortunately, the note hadn't specified which hotel he was meant to register in. He supposed maybe it didn't matter.

Lacking any outward differences, the main choice seemed to be in the name. One was the Corner Street Hotel, the other was called the Trusted Pony Hotel. Given his line of thought over the last several hours, the name of the second hotel rather appealed to Ben.

Considering the time of the year, and also the weather of late, Ben was half-surprised to find someone manning the desk in the lobby. A wiry, polite gentleman had Ben sign in, and gave him a room key.

"Good thing you showed up," the man said, "I was beginning to think I should just board up for the rest of the year and let Lue Artly handle any drifters that might come through. Seems like there have been people coming and going from his place for the last week almost."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Ben remarked, "I just got into town. You wouldn't happen to know of a good place I could stable my horse, would you?"

"That's one thing Artly hasn't got," the man said brightly, "I've got a small stable out back where guests usually leave their horses. It's self service, but I provide the feed and bedding and other things. You can lead your horse around there and use what you need of anything you find in the barn, no extra charge."

Tired and preoccupied, Ben would have preferred to have a full service livery, but the hotel owner didn't seem inclined to offer another recommendation. Ben didn't know if he was trying to drum up business by offering amenities his competition didn't, or if perhaps there wasn't a livery in operation just now. He supposed it wasn't a good time of year for it, not many people passing through.

Rather than inquire, Ben merely thanked the man and led Buck down a narrow alley between buildings to get to the back of the hotel. It was near the edge of town, without anything behind it, which meant there was plenty of space not only for a stable but also a decently sized pasture.

The interior of the stable was to Ben's liking. It was warm, well-ventilated but not drafty, and the stalls were good-sized and clean, with plenty of dry straw. Both hay and grain were available and there was a clean bucket for water hanging in each stall. There was even a small area for grooming, with the same sort of equipment Ben was accustomed to using back home, if a little older and more worn-out.

There was one other horse already stabled, presumably belonging to the hotel owner. Though Ben was road weary and wanted nothing more than to care for his horse, put him away and then retire to his hotel room where he could do his worrying in the warmth of the indoors, something about the other horse caught his attention. Something was oddly familiar about the face that peered out at him.

After he'd removed Buck's bridle and saddle, his curiosity got the better of him and he went over.

The horse was a little shorter in the withers than Buck, but of similar general conformation. It was a mare, a richly toned red dun with a blaze on her face so white it seemed to glow. Her ears perked towards him as he approached, and she nickered in a friendly way, seemingly eager for some attention, though from her sleek and shining appearance she'd been recently groomed, her water bucket was full and she had even been provided a blanket that she'd been able to pull slightly askew.

The mare daintily reached forward with her muzzle and searched Ben's pockets, evidently used to men bringing her treats. Once she'd determined there was nothing to be had, she did not withdraw, but seemed merely to resign herself to receiving affection and nothing more.

But the reason Ben lingered was not merely because she was so friendly and beautiful to look at (even with her sideways blanket); he couldn't seem to place where he'd seen her, but he remembered well the fine points, the bright blaze, the strangely soulful eyes and gently friendly demeanor that denoted a good trainer and fair handling. The trouble was that Ben saw a lot of horses, and he certainly didn't have the time to make a note of each of them, particularly if he had no special reason to pay close attention to them. Something told him that the mare hadn't been for sale, and he hadn't been in the market for a horse at the time anyway, but somehow she'd stuck in his mind and he wasn't sure why.

Finally he gave up trying to figure it out and returned to caring for Buck. The mare made no sound or gesture of protest at his departure, but she didn't retreat into her stall either. Instead, she stuck her head out and watched with rapt attention while Ben groomed and stabled Buck.

While he was feeding Buck, someone new entered the barn. Ben didn't notice because he was facing away. Not until the red dun mare offered her friendly nicker did Ben suddenly turn around and find himself face to face with a stranger. His hand went instinctively for his gun, not only because he'd been startled but because he had reason to expect trouble would come sneaking up on him.

He stayed the impulse when he caught sight of the glint of a badge on the other man's chest.

The man had hair of either light brown or dark blond, and he gazed at Ben with steady blue eyes. At first glance, Ben judged him to be about Joe's age, but a second inspection said he was quite a bit younger. Yet he wore a sheriff's badge as though it belonged to him, and stood with an easy confidence.

"Mr. Cartwright?" he inquired.

"Yes..." Ben replied uneasily.

"I was starting to think that storm had stopped you," the sheriff of Dewton said, sounding neither friendly nor unfriendly, "You and I have some things to discuss."

"We do?" Ben asked flatly, opting to assume the same lukewarm attitude of the sheriff.

"About Elodie," the sheriff said, "And your sons."

"Hoss and Joe," Ben said, without thinking, "Do you know where they are? What happened to them? Are they alright?" the questions all tumbled out unbidden.

"Easy, slow down," the sheriff said, holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture, and Ben noticed a flinch when he moved his right arm, "If you'd come back to my office with me, we can have a cup of coffee and I'll tell you what I do know."

"Where are my boys?" Ben asked insistently.

"That's something I don't know," the sheriff admitted.

"Then I'm sorry, but I haven't got the time to talk to you," Ben said.

"But I do know where they were seen last, and who caught hold of them," the sheriff continued, as though Ben hadn't even spoken, "and I've got two of the culprits in jail already."

Ben quickly changed his mind and agreed to accompany the sheriff back to his office.