Chapter Twenty Nine

Similar experiences unite strangers as well as family.

As Ben reiterated his conversation with Olive, he studied Joe's face. It was obvious his youngest son was touched by Olive's past.

Ben already knew how Hoss felt. His middle son had made that clear when yesterday, he'd suggested he be the one to stay with Olive, to calm her, to make her feel safe.

It was his eldest who stood quietly, leaning against Ben's desk. It shouldn't have been a surprise that by the time Olive's tale came full circle, Adam still had doubts—one in particular. After all, Olive was Hoss's cousin, and she, Hoss, and Joe shared having been lied to and feeling disappointed by family.

"Pa, I know I haven't spoken to the girl, but-"

"Olive," Hoss said abruptly. "Her name's Olive."

Adam nodded his apology. "I haven't spoken to Olive, and I sympathize with anyone who's had so much disappointment, but Pa, isn't it possible that while it is all true-"

"You sayin' you don't believe her?" Hoss asked, ready to defend his cousin.

Adam cocked his head. "If you'll let me finish. She says," he glared at Hoss, "and I believe her, that she came here because the names Benjamin and Inger Cartwright were her only connections to her father."

"That's right," Ben said.

"She didn't know what had happened to Inger or Gunnar."

"Yes."

"Pa, did she mention she wanted to meet Inger? To get to know her aunt and her aunt's husband?"

"Well, no, but-"

"She wanted to find Gunnar and take back the money he stole."

"Adam," Hoss said, losing patience with his brother, "what are you getting' at?"

Adam pushed away from the desk and, rubbing the back of his neck, took a few steps. He turned and faced his father and brothers. "Olive is a smart young woman. Even if Inger had been here, or if Pa could tell her where to find Gunnar, did she really think he'd have the stolen money let alone turn it over to a daughter he never knew existed?"

Ben pivoted his chair and waved into the air the remarks Hoss and Joe were about to make.

"Adam, the element you're missing in all of this is the emotion I heard in Olive's voice and the confusion and anger I saw in her eyes."

Adam knew his father's tone, and he knew it was best to let him speak his mind without interruption.

"Now," Ben continued, "before you suggest she might be play acting, let me say this—I've been the object of a con or two in my days, and I don't believe Olive is such."

Ben paused, expecting a retort. He got none.

"And," Ben continued, "before you say I might be blinded by an injured, pretty, young girl who just happens to be my niece, remember that she didn't march right up to our front door because she was frightened of a man she'd only read about—the Benjamin Cartwright who ruined her father's life."

Ben leaned his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands. "Can you imagine losing your grandfather, the man who raised you, long before he actually passes, to a disease of the mind, and then finding out he lied to you, even out of love? And you find yourself with the names of three strangers who might hold the answers you need to move forward and no way to know for sure where those three people are or if they can be trusted?"

Adam knew his father so well. Hidden in the statements he'd just made were his own demons—the loss of three precious wives, the fear of the unknown in the wagon train west, the courage needed to raise three sons without their mothers, and, once the Ponderosa became a lucrative holding and a beloved home, never knowing for sure which strangers could be believed or trusted.

"Pa," Hoss said, "you always taught us to listen 'n' then put ourselves in the other person's place."

"That's right, son."

Joe ran a hand through his hair. "If I was that gal, I'm not sure I'd have done anything different."

Ben smiled first at Hoss and Joe, and then turned his attention to Adam. "If you'd have seen her a while ago, heard her talk about her grandfather and the life she led before she learned what made her feel as if it was all a sham . . . Adam, I think you'd believe her, too."

"A leap of faith," Hoss said softly. "That's what my mother always said, ain't that right, Pa?"

Ben was touched. He'd often told stories of Inger and her trusting nature. "That's right, Hoss, and I'm asking you three to take a leap of faith—with me. I believe her, and I'd like to count on you, all three of you, to welcome Olive into the family."

Three weeks went by, and under the diligent care of the Cartwrights and Hop Sing, Olive healed and regained her strength. Duties around the ranch and at the timber project were shuffled, leaving Ben and Hoss more time near the house; more time to get to know Inger's niece.

Adam and Joe spent as much time as possible with Olive, Adam discussing poetry and his latest reading material and Joe curious to learn just how a young woman managed to run the Humboldt Way Station.

Then came the final Sunday Olive spent at the Ponderosa. She needed to get back to Humboldt Wells, and although she now considered the Cartwrights her family and the Ponderosa her second home, there were pressing matters at the station that couldn't be handled in a telegram.

Olive would leave on the Monday morning stage, and at breakfast the day before, Ben announced that he and his sons would skip Sunday services so they could spend the entire day together.

While Olive appreciated the gesture, she had an announcement of her own. She wanted to attend services alongside the Cartwrights. It would be her first visit to Virginia City as Olive Jacobson—not the mysterious young "man".

From the dresses Ben had had sent from town, Olive selected the one Hoss called his favorite. He'd told her the color made her eyes sparkle. She paid detailed attention to her hair, adding a matching ribbon that flowed down along her long locks.

All eyes were on the Cartwrights as they rode up to the church in their four-seater buggy. Hoss, riding his horse, rushed to dismount and be the one to offer his hand to Olive as she got down from the buggy. As they entered the church, Hoss looked about to burst with pride, and Olive smiled up at her newfound cousin.

The remainder of the day was spent leisurely. As Hop Sing worked in the kitchen to prepare Olive's favorite foods, she and the Cartwrights lingered on the porch in the sweet, spring breeze.

Adam had fetched his guitar, and he strummed softly as they listened to Olive singing "Beautiful Dreamer." A sing-a-long followed, and afterward, more than an hour of questions and answers about Humboldt Station.

That evening, as Ben and Adam sipped after-dinner brandy, Olive stood, took a deep breath, and addressed the four men she'd grown to admire.

"The stage leaves at dawn, and rather than wait for morning, there are a few things I'd like to say." She's barely finished her sentence when a lump tugged at the back of her throat. "Oh, my . . . I am going to miss you all." Tears welled in her eyes and stung her nose.

Hoss quickly offered the handkerchief from his Sunday vest pocket. Olive took the cloth and dabbed at her eyes.

Ben placed his glass on the table and sank back into his chair. "What is it you'd like to say, dear?"

Olive balled the handkerchief in her hands, a measure of strength building with her grip. "I've said everything before"—she looked at each man as she spoke—"to each of you, to all of you together. But this morning, when it struck me I was really leaving . . . Well, when I left Humboldt Wells, I was bound and determined to get back the money Gunnar Borgstrom stole."

Olive looked down at her hands and back up again. "I was lying—to myself." She huffed. "I find out much of my life has been a lie and I lie to myself." Her eyes shone with sincerity as she looked at Ben. "It was never really about the money."

Ben caught Adam's regret—it was written on his face.

"I was really looking for a way to find out who I am. You see, thinking things are one way only to find they are not, well, I needed to find my father to find out who I really am.

"Instead, I found you, all of you, and being here, talking things through with you, hearing your opinions and advice . . . I found out I knew myself all along. The journey brought me here, and now, it is taking me back where I began."

"You really have to go?" Hoss asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

Olive smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I do, cousin." She stepped toward the warmth of the fire in the hearth. "My life in Humboldt may have been based on well-intentioned lies, but it was still my life, and it made me who I am."

"Well, I like who you are," Joe said, trying to lighten the mood, "but I'm still gonna miss having you around. Not many can say they know a gal who lived on the mountain in winter, all alone. One who wears men' clothes and wolverine pelts-"

"And has a taste for horehound candies," Adam added.

Everyone laughed, but the room soon grew silent and sadly awkward.

Hoss stared at his clasped hands and scrunched his lips. "You'll write, won'tcha?"

"I promise," Olive said, "but only if you promise to answer."

"I promise."

Ben finished his brandy and held on to the glass. "And you'll visit as often as you like."

Suddenly, Olive felt renewed. "Oh, I completely forgot." She turned to Hoss. "The telegram that came for me the other day was a reminder that the Army is coming to the station in July to look over my horses. I hope to sell them twenty five or so. Hoss, could you come up to Humboldt Wells and advise me during the army's visit?"

Hoss's eyes were wide. He looked to his father. "The late-spring drive'll be over by then. Pa? Can ya spare me for a month or so?"

Ben smiled. He'd already decided to suggest Hoss visit Olive, and the timing was perfect. "Well, I don't see why n-"

"Hey, if Hoss gets to go, can I go too?" Joe asked.

Adam perked up, as well. "Pa, I'm sure you could handle the-"

Ben waved a hand in the air. "Now, hold on. I reckon I can spare Hoss for a month, and with the drive over, I guess Joe could go along, but-"

"But you need me to handle the summer contracts while you and Hank and the boys run the ranch."

Olive sighed. "I'm sorry, Adam. It would have been wonderful having all of you come for a visit. You're always welcome, and I really mean that."

And so it was that the Cartwrights rose long before dawn and drove Olive into Virginia City to catch the early morning stage. The scene was bittersweet as she said goodbye to each man, and she was as overwhelmed by their sincerity as she was her own sadness.

As the stage pulled away, Olive smiled and waved from the window, and an hour into the trip, she suddenly smiled.

For nearly a year, ever since I found Mama's journal, I've thought of nothing except my grandfather's lies, the father I never knew, stolen money, and an evil man named Benjamin Cartwright.

I never have to think of those things again. Instead, the end of this journey leaves me with a truthful understanding of my past—compassion for my mother, forgiveness for Grandpa, and a brand new family I care for with all my heart.