Author's Notes

Hello everybody!

Bonanza Becky here!

I know, it's been a ridiculously long of time. I truly apologize. I have taken a long break from writing and life has taken a lot of twists and turns for me. However, I am trying to get back into this story. I was truly conflicted on this chapter and debated whether to post it or not since I really don't know if it's even still relevant here. But I did very much enjoy writing it, and for that reason I wanted to share it in the hope that it can bring some of you a bit of joy too, at a time that I know is extremely difficult for many people. I have also received some very kind messages from friends here on FF who have expressed a continued interest in the story, so I do hope you enjoy this.

This chapter was one I was working on back when I took this long break from writing, so it does follow straight after the events of chapter 47. I completely understand that it might be difficult to "jump back into" for you guys and I just wish I had posted sooner. But, well, here it is. It might help to reread some of chapters 46 and 47. Again, I apologize.

I do hope you are all doing well. I also hope you've had a wonderful Christmas, and that you have a happy new year ahead, despite what's going on in the world. It's tough times. I wish you all the very best, stay healthy and take care.

Becky


Chapter 48

"Dadgummit, I don't hear a dang thing—what are they saying, Joe?"

"Sshhh! How am I supposed to hear anything with you piping up every other second?"

Hoss lifted his ear from the door to the washroom and shot his younger brother a disgruntled look. "Alright, don't get yur hackles up. I's just askin' a question."

"Oh, for the—" Visibly exasperated, Joe pulled away from the door. "You've asked the same question three times, Hoss." He swung a hand up and gestured irately in front of the big man's head. "If you cleaned those big flappers of yours every once in a while, maybe you'd be able to hear more of what goes on around you!"

Hoss's mouth turned down in a quizzical grimace. "What are ya talking about? I had a bath just last week . . ." He stuck his forefinger in his ear, wriggled it around and paused to study it intensely.

Sensing Joe's eyes on him, he looked up and found his sibling watching him with disgust. He held his hands up. "What?"

Joe stared him down for a long moment. Then he shook his head. "Just-just stand there and be quiet, all right? Think you can do that?"

Hoss shrugged and dropped his hands. "Sure."

"Good."

Wasting no time, Joe turned back to the door and took up his eavesdropping position once more. A look of intense concentration fell over his face. Hoss stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched his little brother attempt to hear what was going on in the washroom. For the umpteenth time, he told himself that this was a bad idea. Dadburnit, bad didn't even cover it. It was a downright foolish idea that was doomed to end in painful disaster. Like Joe's ideas generally did . . . But Joe, with all his youthful charm and exuberance, had that way of sweet-talking everybody into doing just about anything he wanted and even getting them to think it was a good idea. And Hoss, of all people, should know better by now. Dang it, he did know better. Still, here he was again—the reluctant participant of another of Joe's reckless schemes. Eavesdropping! Hoss shook his head. He wasn't all that sure they even wanted to know what was happening on the other side of the door. Considering how tense things had been between Adam and the doctor lately, it was likely nothing good. He strained his ears, listening for any sound that would indicate how things were coming along. But he quickly realized that everything had gone dead quiet on the other side of the door. He grimaced. Definitely nothing good. He'd almost prefer to have the two hotheads yelling at each other. Anything was better than this sort of silence. Looking for a distraction, he drew his eyes from the door and took in the state of the kitchen instead. It looked like a herd of steers had been run through the room. Dirty pots and pans covered every available surface. Various spills and crumbs littered the floor and a mountain of dishes teetered precariously on the workbench by the water pump. The reason for the mess was that Hop Sing had been in the middle of cleaning up the aftermath of breakfast when Paul had called for his assistance in the washroom. The cook had hurried off, leaving the kitchen in its current disordered condition. Ordinarily, Miss Madeline would have been helping with the tidying up, but not this morning. No, this morning, she was upstairs in her room, packing the last of her belongings. Today, she and the doc were returning to Virginia City. A pinch of sadness struck Hoss at the thought. It had been nice having the little gal around. He would sure miss her. Her . . . and her cooking. Especially her apple flapjacks. And those buttermilk biscuits of hers. He felt a pang in his stomach, followed by a rumble. Yup, he was gonna miss having Miss Madeline on the Ponderosa. And as if that wasn't enough, Joe had been teasing him all morning, saying that her leaving would be as hard on him as it would be on Adam! Fresh annoyance filled him at the reminder, and he directed a sharp look at his younger brother who seemed blissfully unaware. Then he blew out a breath. The truth was that everyone would miss having Madeline around. But he understood that she needed to get back to her life in Virginia City. As he'd overhead the doc saying to his pa the previous evening; Madeline had to face the town folk sometime. And ol' doc was right.

A faint aroma suddenly pervaded his nostrils, distracting him from his thoughts. Hoss glanced around the kitchen, searching. Hadn't Miss Madeline mentioned something about making a last batch of baked treats this morning? He wrinkled his brow and sniffed. The smell of fried bacon still lingered in the air, but there was something else too, a fainter, more delicate scent. The scent of something sweet. His trained eyes roamed slowly across the kitchen from left to right. There, on top of the cabinet by the stove stood the source of the alluring scent. A tray covered with a checkered dishcloth. As if by reflex, he walked towards it, trying and failing to make his footsteps soundless. He stopped at the tray and lifted the cloth. Molasses cookies! His favorites! Thick, golden-brown and charmingly crackled, the cookies lay in neat rows on the baking tray. With the dishcloth gone, their sweet yet spicy aroma rose unhindered, enveloping his head for a second. He licked his lips and threw a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that Joe was still occupied listening at the door. All clear, Hoss grabbed one of the cookies and bit into it. His eyes fell closed as he chewed through the heavenly bite. Crunchy on the outside yet soft and gooey on the inside. The perfect balance between sweet and spicy. Full of caramelized goodness and

"Hoss! Get over here, quick!"

Joe's whispered demand almost made Hoss choke on the cookie. He spun around andseeing his little brother's urgent expression and animated gesturinghe shoved the rest of the treat in his mouth and rushed back across the room, arriving at a screeching halt beside Joe.

"Whr—" He coughed and gulped down the rest of the cookie. "What is it?"

Joe's eyes gleamed with excitement as he grinned at him. "I just heard Doc say a word that would have earned us a tanning from Pa a few years ago."

Hoss's mouth opened in shock. "Yur kiddin' . . ."

Joe shook his head, his lips pinched tightly together as if to hold an explosive laughter at bay.

"Well, I'll be—"

Scrambling to get into position, Hoss placed his ear against the door, facing Joe. Muffled noises from the washroom filtered to him. The sound of water sloshing, moving in rhythm with Hop Sing's characteristic swift steps as the cook moved around the room. There was some unintelligible grumble from the doc and the sound of labored breathing, probably coming from Adam. Hoss pressed his ear harder against the wooden barrier and squinted as if that would somehow improve his understanding. A needless act, as it turned out. Because one second later, a chair creaked as though someone had leaned back in it and the doctor spoke up.

"Well, Adam," he said with deceptive pleasantness. "I would like for you to take a minute to appreciate the rarity of this moment. You see, I am about to admit that I was wrong."

"I wouldn't have thought it possible," Adam replied, breathing hard, "about what?"

Locking eyes with Joe, Hoss grimaced at the blatant hostility in their older brother's tone. Adam sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth. The next thing they heard was a deep, long-drawn sighlike that of a man who was being tested beyond his limits by a fool.

"Do you recall that day at the county fair when I said that you were the second worst of all my patients?" Paul's voice pulled tight on every word, close to snapping. "Well, I was indeed wrong. You are my ABSOLUTE worst!"

"Fine!" Adam ground out. "Now that we've established that, you can stop poking and—AOW! Will you stop that?!"

"Perhaps, if you would simply sit still like all my five-year-old patients know how to do"

"Damn it, Paul, I said—"

Adam's voice was cut off by a clatter and resounding crash of shattering porcelain which ended in startled exclamations. The temporary silence soon erupted into accusations.

"Thunderation! NOW look what you did! Adam Cartwright, of all the"

"Me? If you'd stopped when I told you to, it wouldn't have happened!"

"Mr. Paul, Mr. Adam, no yell—"

"Stay out of this, Hop Sing!"

The bickering rose in volume, prompting Hoss to draw back from the door with a wince. "Lordy, things are gettin' awful heated in there." He tugged at his shirt collar and fired a sideways look at Joe. "Mabbe we should go in and help 'im . . ."

"What?!" Joe jerked towards him, eyes wide. "Are you out of your mind? I'd sooner be mucking out stalls than go in there right now." Waving off Hoss's concern, he leaned his head against the door once more. "Besides, you know Doc, he can handle himself. Don't you worry about him."

Hoss hesitated for a second, fidgeting with his collar. Then he expelled a relenting breath. "It ain't Doc I'm worried about, dang it," he muttered and placed his ear against the door again.

In the washroom, the bickering between the two men had evolved into an argument in full swing. Paul and Adam were talking over one another, each of their voices rising in pitch with every heated exchange. A bead of sweat trickled down Hoss's forehead as the confrontation continued to escalate. He had a bad feeling about this. A real bad feeling. It was hard to make out exactly what the two were yelling, until all of a sudden, a third, familiar voice bellowed over them loud enough to carry all the way to the bunkhouse.

"NO MORE YELL! Mr. Paul, Mr. Adam, you stop NOW!"

A shocked silence ensued both in and outside the washroom. His eyes bulging in surprise, Joe clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, while Hoss stood frozen in a teeth-clenching grimace. He saw nothing remotely funny about the situation. He'd never heard old Hop Sing speak in such a tone before—he shuddered at the thought of being on the receiving end of it.

As the shock in the washroom subsided, the doctor was the first to recover speech. "Why, I, ah . . ." He cleared his throat. "You're . . . you're right, of course, Hop Sing. This is highly uncivilized. We're quite finished with this nonsense."

"You got that right," Adam agreed, sounding more annoyed than angry now.

There was a tearing noise, like ripping cloth, followed by a muffled thump as if something had been thrown onto the floor.

"I meant finished with this childish bickering," Paul quickly said, scarcely veiled impatience in his tone. "I am not done with you yet, lad."

"Yea, we'll see about that." A chair screeched loudly across the floor.

"Adam, will you just for once in your lifewhat . . . where do you think you're—UGH! Get back here! This instant!"

"No."

The sound of boot steps striding purposefully on the washroom's wood-plank floor made Hoss jolt upright and back away from the door. To his bafflement, Joe stayed where he was, leaning his full weight against the barrier, still listening.

"Uh, Joe, don't ya think we should—"

"Shh!" Joe whispered and waved him off. Before Hoss could say another word, the door ripped open with such force, it seemed it might fly off its hinges. The collision was inevitable. Joe's mouth dropped open as he fell forward, making solid contact with a red-faced, not to mention surprised, Adam.

"Ungghh!"

Fighting to keep his balance, Adam gripped the frame of the doorway with his good arm while Joe fell backwards, arms flailing, until his rump hit the floor with an unceremonious thud. Hoss felt his gut plummet to his feet. He gulped, audibly, and took a long step backward for good measure. Fortunately for him though, his older brother's attention wasn't on him. Adam was busy glaring down at Joe as if attempting to fry the younger man with the heat of his gaze. Not a moment too soon, Paul emerged in the doorway with a broom-wielding Hop Sing following right behind him.

"Heavens, man," the doctor said and ushered Adam aside, "do watch where you're going . . ."

Adam whirled around with a look of outrage, mouth open, but impressively, Paul quelled him with a single raised hand. "I have an inkling you're about to go flying off the handle again, but before you do—might I take a look at that?" He indicated Adam's half-bandaged arm with a nod. "I'm curious to see if you've managed to undo any more of my work with all this, ah . . ." Searching for the right words, he glanced at Hoss, then down to Joe who sat on the floor with a dazed expression. He settled for an airy hand-gesture.

A moment of silence passed, during which Hoss noted—with no small amount of trepidation—how his older brother's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Finally, Adam responded to the doctor's request by thrusting out his jaw and folding his arms gingerly over his chest. Paul looked unimpressed. Staying at what he hoped was a safe distance, Hoss regarded his big brother, properly taking in Adam's haggard appearance and the bandage dangling from his arm. His apprehension gradually turned to brotherly concern. He knew his sibling well, and he could tell by the tight set of Adam's mouth just how much his crossed-arms stance was costing him.

"Foolishness!" Hop Sing, suddenly exclaimed and banged his broomstick on the floor. Bouncing on his feet, he waved the broom about. "You, you you"—he pointed to Hoss, Joe and Adam—"all behave like littah boys! And YOU no better!" He pointed the broom handle at Paul, the tip aimed right at his rounded stomach.

Mild alarm registered on the doctor's face and he held up his hands, eyeing the cleaning implement turned weapon. "Now, now, Hop Sing, let's just—"

"No, Mr. Paul! This too much foolishness for Hop Sing!"

With that parting declaration, the cook pivoted on his heels and stomped back into the washroom where he began sweeping up the pieces of a broken wash basin that lay scattered about the floor. Hoss watched the cook's vigorous sweeping and sighed quietly in relief. Exchanging glances with Paul, he saw the sentiment reflected on the older man's face.

"Well." The doctor harrumphed, breaking the silence left in Hop Sing's wake. "I think the sooner we get this over with, the better."

Turning to Adam, he reached towards his injured arm, but Adam sidestepped him and folded his arm behind his back. Paul stared at him with steel-gray eyes, his forehead wrinkles gradually crinkling into a deep frown. As if realizing that the act of hiding his arm behind his back seemed a little too five-years-old, Adam huffed and grudgingly held it out. The doctor waited a long moment before taking hold of the proffered arm. "Your brother is being most troublesome today," he remarked, directing a sidelong glance at Hoss.

"No more than usual, Doc," Joe commented from the floor, having finally regained his senses. Sitting cross-legged, he rubbed his jaw and rotated it as if to make sure it was still intact, unaware of the prickly look Adam was giving him. Hoss was just about to bite the bullet and come to his mindless younger brother's rescue, when Paul, thankfully, spoke again.

"I wonder, do you have some sort of problem with this arm of yours?" he asked, keeping his eyes focused on the injured limb.

Adam's attention whipped back to the doctor. He raised a dark, questioning brow. Paul glanced up from his examination. "I mean, judging by this most recent example of reckless behavior, not to mention, your continued reluctance to accept any sort of medical attention, you do seem rather set on getting the limb infected."

Adam leveled a glare at the doctor that, in Hoss's mind, would have made any other man shrivel up and die on the spot. Paul, however, only offered a bland look and continued with his examination, his features set in that standard impassive Paul-Martin-expression.

Seeing his chance, Hoss moved to lend Joe a helping hand. Not that his little brother deserved it after getting them both into this mess. Reminding himself never to listen to Joe's ideas again, he stuck his hands under his brother's arms and hoisted him up with a little more force than intended. Joe landed on his feet with a surprised yelp, then flashed a goofy grin and began dusting himself off.

"Well, well, will wonders never cease," Paul said in a flat monotone. He released Adam's arm. "It appears you haven't done any more damage to it. However, I do need to finish tending to it, so if you would be so kind." He extended a hand towards the washroom and regarded his patient expectantly.

Something close to uncertainty glinted in Adam's eyes before he quickly schooled his face. He didn't move an inch.

Hoss frowned, his concern taking over again. "Adam . . . ol' Doc's only tryin to help ya."

"Yea, Adam," Joe chimed in with sincerity in his tone. "It's for your own good, you know that."

"I don't need help," Adam said in a steely voice. "I'm fine."

Shaking his head as if the statement was quite absurd, Paul produced a handkerchief from his vest pocket and proceeded to dab at his forehead. "Clearly."

Adam jabbed a finger at him. "Listen Paul, I've had just about enough—"

"Alright, alright, alright" Paul said, waving the handkerchief like a white flag. "Let's call a truce." He placed a palm against his chest. "Now, I, for one, have no doubt that you are indeed fine, as you put it . . ." In a pause, his half-lidded eyes traveled the length of Adam's frame from toe to head; taking in the bandage dangling from his arm, his unruly hair and unkept beard. Adams lips tightened enough to turn white as the doctor did a painfully slow blink. "However," he drawled, taking the time to return his handkerchief to his pocket. "We both know that my dear niece has developed a most impractical habit of worrying herself sick about you and she would be very disappointed if I didn't at the very least bandage you up." He released a dramatic sigh. "With everything she's been through, we wouldn't want to do anything to cause her any more upset." His grey eyes lifted and fixed directly on Adam's. "Would we?"

Adam's jaw locked, his nostrils flaring as he breathed deeply. Paul held his gaze steadily, a faint hint of challenge lifting his left eyebrow. Hoss watched the standoff with bated breath, hoping the doctor's tactic would win over his mule of a brother. Otherwise he might just have to take things into his own hands. Adam needed to have his arm tended to, whether he liked it or not. It would just be a whole lot easier if he came to that realization himself.

The staring contest between the two men seemed to last minutes until Adam's eyes finally flickered down. His shoulders sank as he exhaled. "Fine."

"Splendid!" the doctor cheered. With a delighted smile, he snagged Adam's good arm companionably, half-turning him. "I knew you'd see sense. This will only take a minute and then all you have to do is give that arm plenty of rest for another few days and it'll be as good as new."

Adam said nothing but allowed himself to be steered back into the washroom by the doctor. Hoss watched them go, hoping this would be one of those rare instances where his bull-headed brother actually listened and did as he was told. It was about time Adam started taking proper care of himself. If not for his own or his family's sake, then for Miss Madeline's.

"Well, that went alright," Joe said from beside him. "He didn't seem too mad at us."

Turning, Hoss gave him a disbelieving look.

Joe shrugged and tried for a smile. "Look at it this way—if we hadn't been here, Adam would've escaped from Doc and he would've just gone off to brood somewhere without getting his arm fixed up. And Pa and Madeline would've been worried. So, if you think about it, we actually did him a favor." His smile widened. "Right?"

Hoss tried, he really did, but he couldn't stop his own smile from forming at his brother's reasoning. That Little Joe smile was so dang contagious.

"That's it," Joe said and slapped his arm, full-on grinning now. "See, I told you everything would turn out fine! Now, come on, I think Madeline said something about making a batch of cookies earlier."

xXXx

Madeline glanced around the bedroom for the hundredth time, making sure everything was clean and tidy as it had been when she arrived more than a week ago. The bedclothes lay folded neatly on the bed, and her carpet bag stood next to it, packed with her belongings and ready to go. The closet and dresser were empty, and she'd checked the vanity table a dozen times already to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Still, she couldn't shake the sense of unrest within her. After all the emotional stress she'd suffered the previous day, an unsettling feeling had formed somewhere deep in her chest. She'd barely gotten any sleep because of it. Concerns about her uncle, Adam and the return to Virginia City filled her mind. Would Adam be all right without her? How would she cope without him? What would the people of Virginia City think of her after everything that had happened with her late husband? How would she face them? Oh, would she even be welcome in town? Her thoughts leapt chaotically from one to the next, threatening to overwhelm her. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought them back. Panicking, right now, was quite out of the question. She needed to keep herself together. With a determined nod, she went to unfold and fold the quilt on the bed one more time. The action calmed her almost as much as a hot cup of tea. And she'd had four cups already this morning. After rearranging and fluffing up the pillows, there really were no more means of stalling. Summoning her resolve, Madeline turned, about to head for the door, when her eyes caught and locked on the white vanity table. She stepped closer to it and studied herself in the oval mirror. Her face looked a little pale for her liking. Probably due to the lack of sleep. She sighed and considered herself, growing even more displeased with what she saw. Earlier at breakfast, she'd thought her cream blouse paired quite well with the emerald green skirt. The deep green had seemed to bring out her eyes. Now, she wasn't so sure. She should have worn a dress instead. The peach-colored one, perhaps? She ran a finger along the dipping neckline of her blouse, smoothing out an imaginary crease. And her hair—goodness! She'd let her hair hang loose about her shoulders, drawing a few curls back and pinning them with a hairclip when she should clearly have done an appropriate up-do. This was far too simple. She watched her mouth crimp in displeasure which did nothing to improve her current opinion of her appearance. Did she have time to change her attire? Perhaps, if she—

A sudden knock on the door almost made her jump out of her skin.

"Madeline, dear?"

Grabbing at her chest, she spun around and stared incomprehensively at the door as if she'd never found herself in such a situation before. Finally, her brain kicked in. "Yes! Come in, Uncle Paul."

The door opened slightly, and her uncle poked his head in. "I'm going to pack the rest of my things now—will you be ready to leave in half an hour?" He frowned, noticing her hand on her chest. "Are you all right?"

No. She was far from all right. Nevertheless— "Yes, Uncle. I . . . you just startled me a little." She forced a smile and dropped her hand. "I will be ready."

For a long moment, her uncle considered her in that scrutinizing way of his. Then, he nodded. He was about to close the door again when her brain provided her with another thought. "Oh, Uncle Paul?"

He stilled, giving her a questioning look.

She tilted her head and asked softly, "how did it go?"

His audible exhalation was almost an answer in itself. "Pretty much as I expected. It was no picnic, I'll tell you that much." Slowly, he ran a hand over his thinning grey hair. Such a small, simple action, yet so out of character for her always self-possessed uncle. Fresh concern filled her as she noticed how the lines by his eyes and mouth seemed to have deepened overnight—as if weighed down by some invisible burden. Flashes of their difficult talk yesterday shot through her mind once again. She'd come away from that conversation emotionally drained yet wiser. She'd gained insight into her uncle's behavior and the troubled feelings that lay beneath it, and she was grateful for it despite the worry it caused her.

He suddenly looked up and saw something in her expression that made him quickly change his own. Straightening his back, he adjusted his tone to one of confident reassurance. "But Adam will be fine in a few days as long as he rests that arm. I'm sure that Hop Sing and the others will see to it that he follows my instructions."

Some measure of relief settled over her at that. "Thank you, Uncle," she said, hoping he read the sincerity in her eyes.

He jerked a nod and glanced around. "Well, I better finish packing then." His grey eyes seem to look every direction but hers. He made a gruff noise deep in his throat. "And, now, you're sure that, erm . . . you're sure about going back with me?"

"Yes, I am sure," she replied with strong emphasis. She summoned the warmest, most genuine smile she could muster. "Now, go and finish your packing. I will wait for you downstairs."

His gaze met hers, and she had the sense he wanted to say something else. But he seemed to think better of it at the last second. His mouth lifted slightly at the corners before he stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. The second he left the room, Madeline felt the smile slip from her face. Sure? She wasn't sure about anything in her life this morning. Least of all about her decision to leave Adam. But she certainly had no intention of letting her poor uncle know just how worried and unsure she truly was. This day would be trying enough for both of them. She turned back to the vanity mirror again, letting her eyes slide over her reflection. It was too late to do anything about her attire now. And perhaps it was for the best. This whole letting-her-private-insecurities-overwhelm-her-business really wasn't becoming of a lady who was supposed to exude confidence and grace. With that inspiring thought ringing in her mind, Madeline smoothed down the front of her skirt and did her best to tuck her concerns away. For now, at least. She crossed the floor, stopping at the door to cast a last lingering look around the room before she went out into the hall and headed downstairs.

She paused at the top of the staircase and looked down to the sitting room. It was empty. A wave of disappointment rose in her heart. She'd hoped to find Adam. She needed do speak to him properly before she left. Perhaps he'd gone out to the barn? If he had, it probably meant that he was in one of his brooding moods. It was hardly surprising. He'd been distant and quiet at breakfast and from what her uncle had said, she gathered that Adam hadn't taken well to having his arm tended to. But she was leaving so soon. Didn't he want to spend what little time they had left together? What if he was too upset with her? A deep sigh drew her attention to the alcove where she saw Ben sitting at his desk, surrounded by papers and books. He was studying what appeared to be a map, absently turning a pen over in his fingers. It was the first she was seeing of him this morning. He'd been tending to some ranch business while everyone else had sat down for breakfast. Amongst the clutter on his desk stood a plate of eggs and bacon, untouched from what she could see.

Madeline began her descent, smile pasted firmly on her face. The oldest Cartwright must have been deep in thought because he didn't seem to hear her on the stairs. In fact, he showed no reaction whatsoever even when she stepped into the alcove.

"I believe you will be in trouble if Hop Sing comes out here," she said mildly as she approached his desk.

He raised his head and blinked at her. At his vacant expression, she inclined her chin towards the neglected plate of food standing on the corner of his desk.

"Oh." He spared a quick glance at the plate before turning his eyes back to the map. "I'll get around to it in a minute . . ."

His voice sounded somewhat distracted, as if he were having a hard time collecting his thoughts.

Madeline set her fingertips lightly to his desk and surveyed the chaos of books and papers before her. In the center of the desk lay a map of the Ponderosa. There were some pen markings at the top part of the map, around the northern high country and the northern grazing pasture. She recognized the area because Adam had taken her riding there a few times. Her eyes shifted from the map and swept over the papers splayed across the desk. Despite studying them upside down, certain words were easy to determine. Paiute. Washoe. Shoshone. Pyramid Lake. Most of the papers had to do with local Indian tribes and their history in the region. There were also old reports of skirmishes between settlers and Indians from the Territorial Enterprise. A slither of unease glided through her. Somehow, she knew that all this was linked to the missing cattle the Cartwrights had been out searching for the previous day. Adam had told her that they'd found nothing, but it was clear to her now that he hadn't been completely honest. She really disliked it when he kept things from her. Even if he did it in some misguided attempt to shield her from something worrisome. Just as her Uncle Paul so often did. Really, men could be terribly frustrating.

Taking a steeling breath, she asked, "is everything all right, Ben?"

His eyes shot up to hers and it was obvious he'd forgotten her presence. Straightening in his chair, he shook his head. "Forgive me, dear. Yes, everything is fine."

Fine? So, apparently the entire Cartwright family turned to this four-letter word when they wanted a conversation to go away.

"If I may," she said and made a delicate motion at the desk. "This doesn't particularly give the impression of fine."

"It's really nothing to be concerned over. Please, sit." He gestured with his pen to the highbacked chair in front of his desk. She didn't move immediately, debating whether or not to press him on the matter. But then, there was hardly any point. This was the father of the most stubborn man she had ever encountered, after all. If he was anything like Adam, getting any information out of him would most likely be a lengthy and troublesome process. As if he could read her thoughts, Ben raised his eyebrows at her, an upturned twist growing at his mouth. It reminded her so of Adam's trademark half-smile. Reluctantly, she began to smile too. Sighing with strong deliberation, she gathered her skirt and seated herself in the highbacked chair. She knew she wouldn't get to the bottom of this business right now and, frankly, it was probably just as well. There were more than enough worries to occupy her mind as it was.

They sat in amicable silence for a moment while his gaze, soft and warm, traveled over her. "You know, the Ponderosa will be considerably less beautiful without you."

Madeline dipped her head, managing to fend off the impending blush, but only just. "You are too kind."

"It's the truth," he said simply. A wrinkle appeared between his thick brows as he set his pen in its holder. "The least Adam could do is shave."

"Oh, he has had a lot on his mind lately, he probably—"

"Now, don't you go making excuses for him," Ben cut in, dismay evident in his tone. "That boy needs to rediscover his shaving gear." He began rustling some papers about, adding, "and he's in dire need of a haircut."

His mouth formed a disapproving line. Madeline bit into her lip at the use of the word boy. It was hard to think of Adam that way. To her, there was nothing 'boy' about him. In fact, he was completely, unmistakably . . . man. There it was again; that peculiar flutter deep in her belly that stirred whenever she thought about Adam in that way. Suddenly her mind was drifting. She wasn't sure exactly where it was heading—only that it was some place decidedly inappropriate. Her barely cooled cheeks started to heat up again and she was very grateful for the paperwork that presently held Ben's attention. A change of conversation would be wise. In fact, she might as well get around to the reason she had approached Ben in the first place. Resettling herself in the chair, she cleared her throat with a little cough.

"Ben, I must thank you again for your hospitality. I cannot tell you how—"

A hand flew up to halt her. "We've been through this already, dear." Laying the papers in a neat stack, he settled his dark coffee eyes on her. "Having you stay here with us has been delightful. I only look forward to your next visit. I know the boys feel the same."

The sincerity in his expression was unmistakable. Although it warmed her, it also made her chest feel oddly tight. This family had done so much for her—made her feel so very protected after the most terrifying experience of her life. They had cared for her and made her feel welcome despite everything that had happened because of her. Now, she was not only leaving Adam, but leaving the safety that the Ponderosa had offered her. And she had no idea what she and her uncle would be facing in just a couple of hours.

She swallowed down the sudden emotion rising in her throat. "Thank you, Ben. That means so very much to me. Hopefully, I will be able to visit you all soon again."

She'd meant to follow the last words with a smile, but to her surprise and immense displeasure, her lips only managed a trembling quirk. She quickly dropped her eyes to her lap. A painful silence stretched on as the weight of Ben's gaze burned on her downturned face. She sensed him lean forward, laying his forearms on the desk. "You're always welcome here. I hope you know that."

He said it with such careful gentleness. For some reason, his manner seemed to stir the muddled feelings she had been trying so desperately to keep at bay all morning. Every lurking doubt began to assail her once again. Oh, not now! She couldn't bring herself to look up at him, so she just nodded, hoping it was enough of a response. It didn't appear to be. Because he rose from his chair, walked around the desk and perched on the edge of the desktop in front of her. Her mind raced as she waited for him to say something, only he didn't. He just sat there quietly and waited with an air of complete patience about him. She vaguely wondered if this was the strategy he used with his sons whenever they had something troubling them. Whatever the case, it proved most effective. She abruptly jerked her head up and faced him.

"Am I doing the right thing by leaving, Ben?"

There it was—she'd blurted out the question that had been on her lips all morning after a restless night.

Ben's reply came with surprising swiftness. "Yes."

She hadn't expected such candidness from him. It took her off guard and her mouth opened and closed as she stared at him.

He took her hand then. Holding it between his work-hardened palms, he spoke in steady, measured tones. "You are doing the right thing, Madeline."

His gaze was warm, comforting—and it never left hers. A shuddering sigh escaped her. Madeline closed her eyes and let the words sink in. Until now, she hadn't known how much she'd needed to hear that from somebody. Anybody. To be told that she was doing the right thing.

"It's just, I . . . I am worried about . . . I—" her voice wobbled and gave away. Goodness, she couldn't even explain herself! Caught in this upsetting whirl of emotions, she just couldn't gather her thoughts. Or form an articulate sentence, apparently.

"About Adam?" he probed.

Her lips twisted wryly as she flipped her free hand up in the air. "Oh, yes about Adam. And about Uncle Paul, and about returning to Virginia City after everything that . . ." She shook her head helplessly. "So much has happened, and I just don't know what I'll do when—" she stopped short, not knowing how to finish.

Ben's dark gaze slid up and down her face, his features growing pensive. After a pause, he said, "You're right, a lot has happened." His voice was slow and deep, as though weighed down with graveness. "I'll be honest with you. Going back to Virginia City won't be easy for you or your uncle. People will talk about what happened. They already have talked and by now the gossip is running like wildfire all over the county. It'll be that way for a while yet." He regarded her with such intensity while he spoke, it made her gut twist. "Folks will have questions, for you especially. You must prepare yourself for that—you must expect it."

Madeline closed her eyes in an attempt to combat the anxiety churning in her midsection. He was right. Her and her poor uncle must be the talk of the town after the drama that had unfolded just over a week ago. It sickened her to think that her private affairs had been laid bare in such a way—displayed on the busiest street in town for all to see. What must people think of her? She had worked so hard to build a new life here, she had fought to gain acceptance in this new community—and for what? Only to have it all ruined by this awful scandal?

"Madeline."

Ben's voice wasn't soft, nor was it harsh. But it was firm, demanding her attention. Opening her lids, she found that his fixed eyes had an anchoring effect on her. They were earnest and intent, gleaming with importance. "Whatever happens—whatever anyone says—you just remember one thing." He leaned closer to her, his hands wrapping tighter around hers. "You are not to blame for anything that man did. His crimes were none of your doing. Out of everyone, you are the biggest victim in this whole tragedy."

His words were infused with certainty, conviction. Although she might never allow herself to fully believe them, there and then, they did manage to ease the apprehension inside her. She swallowed and lowered her eyes.

"So, I'll tell you what you'll do." Ben pulled himself up straighter and raised his hand to her chin, lifting her head. "You'll hold your head high when you ride into Virginia City with your uncle today. You'll face that town and all the gossiping Mrs. Stewarts without shame or guilt, but with the same strength I saw in you when you first arrived here all those months ago." With a slight wink, he flicked his thumb over her chin. "And that irresistible Southern Belle-charm of yours will take care of the rest."

She felt the barest smile shaping her lips. His belief in her gave her a strange newfound strength. The unease that had plagued her mind and curled through her body since yesterday seemed to settle a bit. Ben leaned back on the desk and considered her, a sobering look coming over him. "Things will be difficult for a while, but they'll get better with time. I promise you that."

She studied his face closely. "You really believe so?"

A peculiar smile softened his expression. "Of course. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that time . . . " His voice trailed off into a thoughtful pause as his eyes fell wistfully to the desktop next to him. "Time . . . and acceptance teach our hearts how to live with the hardships we've suffered."

Madeline traced his gaze to the three portraits on the desk. A bittersweet pang struck her heart as she admired the three women she so wished she could have known. So similar, yet so different from one another. Somehow, looking at these beautiful portraits of them was a small way of knowing them. Their beauty and strength had been captured so magnificently and there was such grace, such dignity lighting up their eyes. One day, she hoped she could live up to the example these three Mrs. Cartwrights had set. If she was ever to be so lucky to have the chance . . .

Looking back at Ben, she reached out and laid a hand on his knee. "Thank you."

It took a few blinks to clear the vacant sheen from his eyes before he turned to her. Then his face broke out into a smile. "Oh, you're quite welcome."

With three rapid pats to her hand, he stood and stretched before moving stiffly around the desk. "Well, I think I've spent enough time at this desk for now. Although it was nice with a little peace and quiet." With a reluctant sigh, he gathered the stack of papers and moved them to a desk drawer. "I guess I better go out and see what those two youngest sons of mine are up to. They were horsing around in the kitchen earlier and driving Hop Sing mad, so I sent them outside to do some firewood." He suddenly stilled, his mouth drawing downward as he stared ahead of himself. "They've been quiet for an unnervingly long time now . . ."

His grim appearance almost made Madeline laugh, but she managed to suppress the impulse to a subtle smile.

Shaking his head, he shoved the drawer shut. "It's high time we get back to the normal run of things around here. When they're back at work again, those boys will have less energy for all their tomfoolery." In a muted voice, he added, "And less time for brooding."

That last part was clearly directed at Adam. Fresh worry bloomed in her chest as she instantly sensed the change in Ben's demeanor. He'd gone from exasperated to worried father.

"Where is Adam?" she asked him quietly, even though she'd already guessed.

Ben kept his eyes trained on his chair as he pushed it under the desk. "Out in the barn. I told him you'd be leaving soon, but he said he needed some fresh air to clear his head . . ." Glancing up, he caught her eyes. With a quick smile that was obviously meant to lighten the mood, he continued. "I guess he figured he would take his frustration with your uncle out on poor Sport."

Madeline nodded in silent understanding. Clearly, Adam was having a difficult day. He might even be hiding out in the barn and avoiding her purposefully. They had done this dance plenty of times before; where he withdrew and closed himself off from her and she had to bide her time and wait for the right moment and gently coax him to open himself up to her again. But, well, all that just wouldn't do now. Time was running out! And, by Heavens, she was not about to leave the Ponderosa without speaking to him—whether he liked it or not.

"Please, excuse me, Ben" she said and gathered her skirt as she rose from the chair. Determination fueled her steps as she made her way to the front door when Ben's voice called behind her. "Madeline?"

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him.

He considered her for a moment, as though trying to find the right words. Finally, he rubbed a hand across his brow and let out a weary sigh. "He only wants to protect you."

She smiled her gentlest smile. "I know."

The nod Ben gave in response was barely a movement. He stared pensively down at the plate of cold bacon and eggs on his desk. With nothing else to say, Madeline turned and made her way to the front door.

XXXx

A blue, cloudless sky greeted her as she came out onto the porch. The scent of rain still lingered in the air after the previous night's storm and there were muddy puddles, leaves and branches spread all around the yard. Madeline looked across to the corral next to the barn where a tree, split halfway down the middle, had fallen and crushed the fence. Thank Goodness the horses had been safe in the barn. Repairs would no doubt need to be made around the ranch after a storm of such proportions, but it was truly a blessing that no animals or men had been injured. It certainly put things into perspective. Raising her skirts, she stepped off the porch into the yard. The air was crisp, softly breezing on her face and there was a slight chill in the air—a gentle reminder that the fall season was at hand. Madeline tilted her head up, feeling the soft rays of the sun on her cheeks. These mornings that came after storms had always held a special place in her heart. After witnessing the extraordinary powers of nature unleashed, there was something deeply comforting in knowing that the same nature was capable of such peace and tranquility with the breaking of a new dawn. It was as if the rain washed everything anew and brought out a secret richness in every shade; the greens turned glistening as the grass and the leaves sparkled with the last sweet drops, while the browns deepened from dusty beige into heavy mahogany. And the smells that arose after that glorious meeting between water and air—a mesmerizing blend of freshness, earth and greenery, the very scent of life. Rain, such a simple thing, to ignite the magic of nature. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. Sometimes, one needed to take a moment to appreciate the beauty in those simple things. Especially on a day as dreadfully complicated as this one. Speaking off complicated . . .

Her eyes snapped open, honing in on the barn ahead. One of the large double doors was propped open, left slightly ajar. Outside stood a buggy with two impatient-looking horses attached. It seemed that everything was ready for her departure. But then, how was it that she didn't feel at all prepared for it? She shook her head at the doubts attempting to creep up on her again. Armed with another lungful of that good, fresh air and tranquility, she lifted her skirts and began the trek across the yard, weaving through the maze of puddles surrounding her. As she neared the barn, Adam's voice wafted to her but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Who was he talking to? He sounded rather . . . displeased. She picked up the pace as his voice grew louder until she reached the barn door where she stopped abruptly.

"—so you might as well cut that out because we're NOT going!"

Standing in the middle of the barn, Adam thrust a horse brush in the direction of the stalls as if to emphasize his words and accompanying glare. It only took him a split second to sense her presence, and he spun towards her, his mouth opening in a perfect O shape.

"Oh." Straightening, he quickly lowered the brush. "Sorry, I didn't hear you coming."

"That's all right," she said carefully. She threw a quick glance around but saw no one else. "Am I interrupting something?"

His eyes darted back to the stall as he drew what appeared to be a tremendously bracing breath, judging by the way his nostrils flared.

"No. Someone's just being moody today."

He made a throwaway gesture towards the stall and went to hang the horse brush back in its place on the wall. Madeline's attention shifted to Sport's stall. As she stepped closer, she saw that the horse was standing at the very back of the stall, staring stubbornly into the wall with his chestnut rump turned towards her. Her lips curved involuntarily.

"I see," she said and faced Adam again, folding her hands neatly at her front.

He must have heard the note of amusement in her voice because he looked over at her sharply. Their eyes met and held, freezing her in place. Unexpectedly, she felt a stab of longing in her belly. Goodness, she would miss him. Oh, she would miss being able to see his handsome face whenever she pleased. Touching him and knowing he was near at all times. The thought of leaving him brought a sharp ache to her chest. They stared at each other for a extended moment until his eyes flickered and slid down her body—the irritation in his expression slowly declining. A rush of jittery warmth shot through her in response. Reflexively, she allowed her own eyes to drop and wander. Along his broad shoulders hidden under the black shirt, down across his chest—of all places. When—for some unfathomable reason—her attention fixated on the two very undone buttons at the top of his shirt, she felt color rising in her cheeks and tore her gaze away. Good gracious, Madeline! Where were her manners? In the midst of her self-chastisement, she heard him clear his throat.

"So . . . did you finish packing?"

Willing her mind to focus on his question, she gathered the courage to lift her eyes from the hay-sprinkled floor. She watched him collect a bucket filled with red apples by Sport's stall, drawing no response whatsoever from the chestnut. While she didn't know the source of the horse's, moodiness, as Adam put it, she suddenly had a very distinct image in her head of him attempting to coax the gelding with juicy treats and a good brush down. Neither, it seemed, had worked.

"Yes, I did," she replied, taking a tentative step forward. "Uncle Paul is packing the rest of his things now. Then, we—" She looked down at her hands. "Well, then we will be ready to leave, I suppose"

With a silent nod, Adam set the bucket down by the ladder to the hayloft and went to the workbench. Concern threaded through her and she shifted uncertainly on her feet. So, he wasn't riding with them then. Well, clearly not because Sport wasn't saddled. Not that she had expected him to, of course. But it certainly would have been . . . nice. A sinking feeling formed in her gut when he grabbed a leather satchel and began filling it with tools.

"What are you doing?" she asked, aiming for a light tone and missing it entirely.

"The storm did some damage last night." He spoke without turning around and shoved a small box of nails in the satchel. "Somebody's gotta fix it."

Somebody, most definitely shouldn't be him, in her opinion. Her hands twisted so tightly together, they turned white. She tried to speak as evenly as possible. "Is your arm all right for that sort of work?"

As if her question had struck him, he froze mid-reach for a hammer hanging on the wall. His shoulders lifted and sank slowly, leaving a certain rigidity to his bearing. "I wish you'd all stop coddling me," he said, a distinct edge of annoyance in his voice. "Like I told Paul earlier; there's nothing wrong with my arm. It's just fine."

A breathy snort erupted from one of the stalls and he fired a scathing look at its occupant.

Madeline swallowed laboriously, the knot in her belly tightening another notch. She could hear her pulse drumming in her ears as she watched him thrust the hammer in the satchel and close the bag. He grabbed his black hat from the workbench, placed it on his head, and when it seemed he intended to march straight past her, she jerked her hand out and grabbed his good arm, staying him. "Adam . . ."

His body went tight and stiff at her touch. Inwardly, she flinched at his reaction, but she managed to hold on. Hands fisting around the satchel, he found himself a spot on the wall behind her to direct a stare at. The sting of tears burned her eyes and she pressed her mouth together to fight them back. Why? Why was he behaving like this? He might be displeased with her, but did he really want to leave things like this between them? No, she couldn't bear it!

"Please," she half gasped, half whispered. "I cannot leave while you're . . . while we're like this."

Whether it was because of the iron grip she seemed to have on his arm or because of the blatant distress twisting her voice, she didn't know. But he finally adjusted his gaze to look at her. For a brief moment, his face was all hard lines, nerve clenching in his cheek. Then she saw that tough exterior of his begin to falter. His dark brows bunched together and his eyes swept around her face, softening little by little. Something she thought might be regret bloomed in his expression. He continued to gaze silently at her, his chest heaving with a sigh that seemed wrenched from some painful place deep inside him. A place he usually kept hidden so well. Despite her best efforts, the first tear escaped the trembling brim of her eye. She bit down on her lip. Her emotions always lay too close to the surface. It was just who she was. She dropped her head, but he hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face back up. His features tightened like he was in physical pain as he regarded her. The look in his eyes was one of such tenderness, it was like a bolt to her heart. Waves of emotion swamped her. She barely registered the soft thud of the satchel hitting the floor. All she noticed was the feeling of his arms wrapping around her, holding her. His warm body moving closer to her. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

"Stay," he said quietly, his breath fanning her face.

For a second, it was as if her mind went blank white. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. "Excuse me?"

"Stay," he repeated, breathier. His eyes opened, clear and intent on hers. "Stay here on the Ponderosa. With me."

She blinked again. Her mind throbbed as she took his request in, realized what he was asking. She drew back, slowly shaking her head. "Oh, Adam, I-I can't, I—" Her chest contracted and she struggled for her voice. "I must go with Uncle Paul, he needs me, I can't let him—" Her throat closed over the words. She sucked in her breath and reflexively placed her hand to her chest as if to soothe the pain within. "I just can't let him face the town folk all by himself after all that has happened. Please, you must understand."

All trace of hope fell from his face, his lids lowering. The sight made it feel as though her heart was cracking open. To see the man she loved, so disappointed because of her. She searched his down-turned face, wiling him to understand, to look at her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

His eyes flickered up to her face, locking on hers. Then he nodded as if something was falling into place, and straightened his back.

"It's all right. I understand. I, uh—" He looked down and rubbed a hand over his bearded cheek like he was frustrated with himself. "I shouldn't have asked that of you. That was wrong of me."

She wanted to tell him it was all right. She wanted to say how sorry she was again, but he distracted her by removing her hand from her chest. His eyes closed as he placed a long, soft kiss to the top of her fingers. The tender gesture had the strangest effect on her. In one way, it made her ache to the very soul, but at the same time, goosebumps appeared all over her body. How did he do that to her? How could he make her feel . . . so much?

Holding her hand to his chest, he studied her for a quiet moment. "I'm going to miss having you around, honey."

It took her a second to gain enough control of herself to speak. "I will miss you too, Adam."

Still a little shaky, but it was the best she could do.

Very gently, he wiped a lingering tear away from her cheek with his thumb. "Well, the truth is, we're all gonna miss you. Especially Hoss ad Joe. They've gotten too used to your baking and cooking." That half-smile appeared at the side of his mouth as he tucked a curl behind her ear.

It didn't reach his eyes—not nearly—but she loved him for trying all the same.

Small as it was, she summoned a smile of her own. "I will miss them too." After a brief hesitation, she said, "You will visit Virginia City soon again, I hope?"

"Sure, I will."

Something flitted across his face that she couldn't quite read. He studied her intently, his gaze darkening from honeyed hazel to rich brown. Oh, it was so very easy to lose herself in that gaze. Along with the captivating sensation of his fingers stroking over her cheek. She never wanted it to end. His lips parted like he was about to say something else—when a voice from outside interrupted everything.

"I'll just go and see if they're in the barn," Ben called loudly, rather blatantly warning them of his approach.

Adam expelled a harsh breath and dropped his hand from her face. With hasty movements, she wiped her hands over her cheeks and adjusted her hair.

"Ah! There you two are," Ben said as he appeared in the doorway.

Hands settling on his hips, Adam raised a pointed eyebrow at his father that perfectly conveyed what he thought about the interruption. Madeline smoothed down her skirt and took a small step away from him. For propriety's sake.

After sending an amicable smile his oldest son's way, Ben's attention settled on her. His dark, assessing eyes roamed over face. Was it obvious that she'd been crying again? She hoped not. It was becoming a dreadfully common event these days. Apparently having seen what he needed to, Ben held his hand out towards her and smiled. "It's time, dear."

She dipped her head in response. She gave Adam a soft look that undoubtedly lasted longer than it should have. There was no postponing it any longer. It was time for her to go. Drawing a a cleansing breath, she forced her lips into a smile, squared her shoulders and walked over to take Ben's arm.

xXXx

Hop Sing, Joe and Hoss were waiting outside and her belongings had been stowed on the buggy. Her uncle was already seated on the buggy seat, reins in hand. His mouth rose upward when he saw her—right until he looked past her at Adam. She immediately tensed up beside Ben. It seemed like everyone was watching the two. Then her uncle gave the faintest dip of his head, his gaze unwavering from Adam's. She recognized it for what it was. A nod of acknowledgement. A nod of respect. Most definitely a gesture of truce. Adam responded in kind although his face was unreadable as always, shadowed under the brim of his hat. Relief seeped into her, and she felt herself relax. If the two men that she loved so dearly could get along with one another, if only for a little bit, she would be happy.

"You come visit velly soon, Missy Madeline," Hop Sing ordered more than said and wagged a finger firmly at her.

"I will, Hop Sing." She hugged him, clearly taking him off guard with the gesture, but he accepted it with a grin that split his face. "Take good care of yourself."

She'd barely released the happy cook before Joe jumped in to grasp her hand and sweep her an elegant bow, removing his hat with a flourish. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you real soon again, Madeline." He pressed a firm kiss to her hand and fired a bold grin-wink combination at his oldest brother.

Standing crossed-armed, Adam rolled his eyes skyward but Madeline sensed the barest hint of humor playing a his lips.

"All right, all right," Ben said with twinkling eyes and he took his youngest by the shoulders, giving him a good-natured shake.

"I will look forward to it, Joe," she said genuinely.

Turning to Hoss, she felt a warm wave of fondness spread through her. He stood slightly slumped, twisting and bending his hat between his hands with his face pointed down at the ground. He peaked up at her. "It sure was nice havin' ya here 'n all Miss, Madeline."

She gave him a warm smile. "I have enjoyed my time here with you all very much too, Hoss."

Joe pointed to the damaged headwear. "You keep scrunching that thing up, it'll never go back on your big head again."

Thrusting out his chin, Hoss pulled an offended face at his brother and she saw her chance to lean up and plant a kiss to the big man's cheek. Said cheek turned tomato-red in a matter of seconds, prompting Joe to released a high-pitched cackle.

"All right, you two, that's enough," Ben said. He stepped past his boys to take her hands. Amusement at their antics had lifted his mouth and deepened the crinkles by his eyes. However, his countenance quickly sobered as he regarded her. After a second, he spoke to her in a lowered voice, just for her to hear. "Remember what I told you before. Things will be difficult for a while, but they'll get better with time."

He brought one hand up and lifted her chin the barest fraction, a knowing glint in his gaze. A lump formed in her throat as she realized the gesture was a reference to their conversation earlier. His words replayed in her mind, igniting something deep within her. Yes. She would face Virginia City with her head held high today. Just like he'd told her to.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

Smiling, he embraced her and she kissed his cheek. "Well, you two better get going then."

He helped her step up into the buggy and she settled herself on the seat next to her uncle. Then she turned and looked down at Adam. Everyone's attention was on him as he approached the buggy. Other people might not have been able to tell, but she knew him so well now. She sensed how much every step he took towards their farewell was costing him. Sorrow invaded her all over again, every single part of her. He stopped beside her, held his palm up and she placed her hand there. Once again, the pressure of tears began to build behind her eyes, sharp emotion welling up in her. She opened her mouth to speak, but her lips shuddered, then closed.

He kissed her hand and looked softly at her. "I'll see you soon, honey."

The ache in her chest was too strong, she couldn't form words, no matter how desperately she tried. The muscles in her throat were contracting so painfully. This really wasn't the place to cause a scene, but goodness, saying goodbye to Adam just felt heartbreakingly wrong in every way. So utterly wrong. She gazed at him through a blur, unable to stop herself from caressing his face with trembling fingers, trying to memorize ever little detail of his face as it was now. For later.

He took her hand, kissed it once more, then released it. The sense of loss was immediate. Her hand felt cold and empty as it came to rest in her lap.

And with that, her uncle slapped the reins to start the horses, setting the buggy in motion.

They drove out of the yard and she looked back over her shoulder. All the others waved, except Adam. He stood completely still, his eyes trailing her.

She looked back over her shoulder many times, until the ranch was out of sight. Wiping a tear from her eyes, she glanced over at her uncle and saw him watching her with obvious concern. For once, she didn't attempt a smile. Instead, she gave him a determined nod and reached over to squeeze his arm. They both faced the road ahead in silence as the buggy rattled down the road towards Virginia City.

xXXx