6

Ben paced down the length of his dooryard with a lantern looking at the faces of the dead. He recognized none of them. Just like the men that Earnest had hired to help him with his assassination plot, the men Earnest had paid to attack the Ponderosa were total strangers. Their only motivation had been money, and they had died for it.

The thought bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Those who were alive were loaded into the back of a buckboard and were sitting and waiting for Roy Coffey and the rest of the Virginia City posse to return to town. Ben was pleased to know that there were more men alive than dead.

His eyes played over the walls of the barn and the bunkhouse. He looked up to the broken windows on the second story, knowing that more damage waited for him inside. Holes that would need patching, and objects that would need replacing. How many momentos had been destroyed this time? How many physical memories smashed?

His boys were hurting. His city was hurting. Their sense of security had been torn apart as if the iron bars and locks on the doors had been nothing more than drawings on paper. For money, ultimately.

That had been Earnest's motivation. It had been the motivation of the six men lying dead in the dirt and he was certain it was the motivation behind the bigger wheels that started this whole thing into motion in the first place. Money.

Ben detested that he needed it to survive.

"Ben...if you can lend me that supply wagon I can get them bodies out of here tonight, too." Roy said, walking out of the house.

"I'd appreciate that."

"Your boys seem to be alright in there. Miss Tungsten has calmed down and I think she's nearly asleep. I'll send the doc out first thing in the morning." Roy said, his fists resting on the ridge of his gun belt. "I feel sorta guilty for all this."

"You didn't do any of this…" Ben growled softly.

"I know that." Roy said. "But I couldn't stop it, neither. This whole situation has been bigger than anything I've ever imagined. Makes a body want to move out into the middle of the desert and stay there."

Ben crossed his arms over his chest then snorted softly. "A towny like you? You'd never last."

"If Virginia City would calm down, and start behavin' itself, I might...someday."

Ben and Roy turned and watched the last of their neighbors and friends file out of the ranch house. Each man carried with him a paper wrapped sandwich for the trip back to town, and those that had been wounded had been patched to the best of his ability. The men mounted and moved to the head of the road, waiting for Roy to start the caravan back.

Ben helped his old friend hook up the supply wagon, then left it to his deputies to load the bodies. Ben stayed on the porch until the last horse had turned and disappeared behind the barn. Behind him, through the broken window that sat over his desk, Ben could hear the grandfather clock chiming midnight.

Even if his life had depended on it, he couldn't have said what thought or memory started it. He knew only that he was still one second and weeping the next. He didn't sob or wail, but the creases on his weathered face were flooded with tears that wouldn't stop. His grief didn't have a purpose or a direction. It was just there. He didn't mourn for any one in particular, but for everything. For the dark, sorrowful, pitch blackness that was the human heart.

He was as torn over the greediness of Earnest, as he was his own greed. He hated the vengeance in the hearts of his fellow man as much as he hated the vengeance in his own heart. He felt like his existence was a stain on the land and asked God why he had bothered giving Noah a second chance? Why, when God knew that man would always be as a selfish child, why start again?

He'd learned the answers long ago as a boy. He'd attended enough sermons to know what the Bible had to say about it. He understood grace, forgiveness, patience, love. He could define them, and name passage and verse that spoke about them. But those were things he seldom thought of in the midst of a gun battle, or while tracking down a fugitive, or rousting cattle thieves. Those were things he thought of when the immediate threat had dissipated. When the things that he cared most for were safe and sound.

Was it simply a survival mechanism? That man should be selfish and self-serving in the heat of the moment, showing compassion only when his own needs were met? Had God truly created them that way?

Ben could think of examples of men in the Bible, and in secular history, that might have acted contrary to their nature when threatened. Acting selflessly, or showing compassion, or love when challenged. He'd met such men. His sons had defended such men. They were called men of peace. But these men of peace weren't viewed as having exceptional strength or ability. Most didn't recognize the strength of character, self-control and courage required to be a man against violence. Because they did not fight, because they refused to defend themselves with force, they were viewed as weak.

Why was peace a symbol of weakness?

Ben's voice shook as he quietly quoted, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

More tears fell, but he spoke past them. "Blessed are those who mourn…" His throat tightened and he whispered, "For they will be comforted."

Ben pulled in a shaking breath and spoke louder. "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who...hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be filled."

"Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy?" Adam said. Ben turned his head and swiped at his face, watching his boys file out onto the porch. Still awake, still dressed as they had been hours ago.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God." Hoss said, smiling at Ben before his eyes strayed to the stars.

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God." Joe said, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the porch post.

"Blessed are those…" Ben began, "Who are persecuted because of righteousness."

His boy's voices joined him. "For theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Ben let his boys sleep in. He left them a note telling them where he had gone, and told Hop Sing that he would be bringing in fresh game for supper. In the robin's egg blue of pre-dawn, he saddled Buck and turned toward Lake Tahoe. The air was crisp and cool and Ben could smell the start of fall in the air. By noon it would be blazing hot, he was sure, but the promise of leaves turning, of farmers looking to their harvests and a time of plenty. All the things that preceded the holiday season.

It would soon be his favorite time of year. The cool air, the sharp, pungent smell of pine, the clatter of Buck's shoes on the rocks and dirt. These were things he found comfort in. These were things that made him feel like a young man.

Ben rode through dewy meadows and shadowy forests, following the spider's web of paths that his cowhands and sons had cut over time. He rode to the lake without stopping and let Buck race down the narrow section of beach, splashing through the water.

From the lake, Ben headed east, crossing through unbroken pastures and into the denser timber that was so valued by the railroad and the mines. It was in that timber that he spotted a buck. The animal was three years old at least, but probably not the leader of the herd. One antler was missing, and the other showed some damage from a recent battle. Ben followed the animal, staying downwind of it, until he had a clean shot.

He tied the carcass to his horse and found a good tree, took his vest and shirt off and hung the animal from the low hanging bough. Ben took his time cleaning and dressing the buck, trying to remember the last time he had needed to put his own hands to the task of preparing the meat at his dinner table. Ben wrapped the usable meat in the hide, tying what he would take behind his saddle. The rest would feed the buzzards and scavengers, provide nutrients for the trees, and breed a mess of other decomposers that his sons might someday use for fishing, or compost.

Ben cleaned the blood and gore from his arms and chest in the stream, and sat on a boulder in the sun, letting the heat dry his skin. Memories flooded him on his way back. Hunting trips with his boys, picnics, rides. He remembered the first time Adam had rode his horse at a full gallop. Eight years old and already a better horseman than Ben had ever hoped to be.

And Joe had been even faster to learn. Hoss had practically been born in the saddle.

He stopped at a stream to let Buck drink and remembered watching Adam patiently try to teach Joe how to fish, when all Joe wanted to do was play in the stream and try to catch frogs. When Ben climbed up onto a ridge that overlooked the western edge of the Ponderosa he remembered clearing that hillside of timber, and then the following winter, sending his boys down it on sleds he had created with his own hands. They had been so much fun, if exhausting, when they were younger.

As men they had become even more fun. He had marveled at each of them developing their own personalities and strengths. At the rivalry between them, and the love they had for one another, despite not sharing mothers. He loved his boys more than anything. The memories were welcome, like the clean air and the sunshine. They blocked the darkness he had felt the night before and were a balm to the wounds on his soul. Ben allowed himself the luxury of forgetting the unanswered questions, the remaining threats and the hard work and patience that would be needed to put Virginia City back in order.

Ben took his time returning home, taking the road up into the dooryard at the speed Buck wanted. When he stepped down from the saddle his watch told him it was an hour past noon. Hoss stood at the forge and anvil, set up near one of the troughs, working through a pile of horseshoes.

"I asked Hop Sing to tell you boys to take the day off." Ben said. He loosed the hide and meat and hefted it onto his shoulder.

"I know...but the work wanted doin' and...I wanted to do it." Hoss said. "You won't believe where Joe and Adam are."

Ben raised a brow but laughed. "Tell me about it in a minute. You could take a break, get out that hide frame for me."

Ben deposited the meat in the kitchen then brought the hide out to the dooryard where he and Hoss worked together to stretch it over the frame.

Once the edges of the hide were secured and the frame had been expanded as far as it would go, Ben said, "Alright. Where are your brothers?"

"Well, Joseph decided to go on out to that old bronc bustin' corral and start tearin' it down."

"What!?" Ben asked, laughing.

"Yes sir, him and Bucky Weems rode out this mornin' right after breakfast."

"And Adam?"

"He took Miss Tungsten into town. Said he'd pick up both the wagons that we leant Sheriff Coffey, get supplies to start fixin' this place back up, and said he wanted to set some things straight with the Sheriff about what went on in the warehouse before it blew."

"He shouldn't be riding so soon. Neither should Miss Tungsten." Ben said.

"He said you'd say that. And then he said for me to tell you, "Iffen it was you, Pa? Would you do any differnt?"

Ben made a face.

"Would ya?" Hoss asked.

"No." Ben admitted.

Hoss smirked, pleased, and picked up the hide and frame. He set it out in the sun leaning against one of the troughs, then picked up the single antler Ben had brought back, eyeing the tines and the base. Ben went to put Buck in his stall, brushing the animal down and feeding him. By the time he was done, Hoss had returned to the horse shoes. Ben went into the house to begin cleaning up the mess that a hundred bullets had left, working from the main room up to the bedrooms with a broom and dustpan, then back down again with a cleaning cloth and soap.

The work helped him to calculate the damage to his home and minimize it in his own mind. It made the hurt smaller, and the pleasure of setting it right, all the more satisfying. Once the mess was cleaned up he began preparing the broken windows for new panes and sanding down the walls for patching and repainting. He was on the porch cleaning up the potted plants that had been mutilated when Joe and Bucky Weems rode up to the house.

While Bucky took care of the horses Joe came to the porch. "Got most of that pen down, and filled in the holes with rock and soil. Half the poles would still make good fencing. We stacked the good stuff, and we'll chop and pile the rest tomorrow."

Ben bit his tongue, choosing not to comment on the energetic willingness to do hard work. "That's good, Joseph. It's about time that corral came down." He said. The comment reached his son's ears then floated right past them and Joe went to the barn to help Bucky. What hadn't been said was as significant as what had.

Bucky was the first to return to the dooryard, heading for the bunkhouse. When Joe didn't follow him, Ben put down the shards of pots and wandered into the shade of the barn. He found Joe leaning on the gate to Cochise' stall, petting the pinto's nose. Ben ducked away from the door but stayed in ear shot listening to his youngest talk to a friend that had been with them for much of his life.

"You did good work today, buddy. I know we've been through a lot lately. Lots of people shootin' at us. Tryin' to blow us up. It ain't fair to do that to a nice old horse like you." Joe was quiet for a moment and Ben heard the pinto whicker softly. Joe answered with a quiet laugh. "You know I owe you a dozen sugar cubes at least. I got Adam gettin' 'em for me from town. He'll be here by supper. Course that...that explosion might mean things will be tight for a while, but...you're a tough old horse. And...I know you're awfully fond of those fillies out on the Tungsten ranch, so when we get some time off we'll go on out...and I'll turn you loose into that corral, and you can stomp and strut for them girls til they swoon."

Ben smiled and turned from the barn, shaking his head at the thought of turning Cochise, or even Joseph, loose on the Tungsten ranch for even an hour. He was back on the porch when Joe came out of the barn, closing one of the wide doors before he crossed to the kitchen door. Ben caught the mischievous smirk a second too late. He had his hand up and his mouth open to warn Joe against what he had planned, but didn't have the chance to deliver the warning before Joe opened the door and tried to sneak the pie cooling by the window. The ensuing riot of noise and giddy laughter brought most of his hands out of the bunkhouse and gave Hoss a respite from his work.

Hop Sing sternly delivered his ultimatum, "No pie for you, Little Joe."

And his chastened, youngest son, went into the house to clean up.

His eldest came in an hour before dinner. His arrival sparked a buzz of activity. Adam had brought the mail and together he and Sarah had driven two wagon loads of supplies to the ranch. After Adam had gingerly stepped down from the wagon seat, Ben ordered him and Sarah into the house to clean up for supper and helped the hands unload the wagons and care for the horses. Ben was surprised to see that Adam had managed to secure window panes, wood for frames and even new pots for the flowers.

When he saw a bolt or two of fabric underneath one of the crates he suspected that Sarah had had her way with some of the purchases. That or she planned to stay a lot longer than Ben had first thought. Ben carried the bolts into the main house, admiring the patterns. When Sarah stepped out of the guest room, looking much better than she had the night before, Ben caught a blush on her cheeks.

"This is lovely material." Ben said, schooling his face.

"I...I felt like some of the damage to the house was sorta my fault so…" Sarah cleared her throat then said, "I thought I'd make you some curtains. And that bed of yours got all torn up, Adam said. So I bought that muslin for a new mattress. I hope you don't mind."

Ben beamed at her and said, "Not at all. I'm flattered that you thought of us. Especially when we've been so thoughtless of you."

Sarah hugged herself, looking tiny in comparison to the vast room. "You saved my life, Mr. Cartwright. You saved my mother's life, and my sisters'. That ain't thoughtless."

"No...but keeping you from your family does seem unfair." Ben said. "I should have offered to drive you to your ranch this morning. I apologize."

Sarah's eyes darted toward the stairs and Ben felt a jolt. "I hope Adam was pleasant company for you today."

Sarah smiled at him and her manner changed, easing a little. "I enjoyed myself very much today." She said. "Adam has certainly made me regret shooting at him."

Ben chuckled. "Well..sometimes that's the only way to get his attention. If you aren't terribly anxious to get back I would love for you to stay here as long as you wish. You just let me know when you need to return."

"Thank you." Sarah said, covering her flaming cheeks with her hands and turning to duck back into the guest room.

Ben continued to chuckle as he set the fabric down and went to set the table.

"Roy says that adding up the total cost of the damages will take time. The condition of the grain needs to be judged, and it has been at least a year since Bowe had the store assessed. Bowe and Wilson both think the insurance company will pay off. When I left town, Bowe was already looking at a site for the new store. He asked me if I would help him modify the original plans to provide better ventilation, and easier access to stock."

"Ventilation?" Joe asked, spiraling the chunk of meat on his fork in the gravy pooled on his plate.

Adam sighed a little. "Yeah. I guess the explosion might not have been as bad as it was if the store had better air flow. Like when a still blows if it's badly maintained. Bowe said the insurance company had just released information about proper ventilation in storage areas. He'd already been looking at how to make the improvements."

"What does Bowe say about replacing his stock?"

"Harvest season is coming. Much of it can be replaced by local farmers. That'll drive the prices up and should work out for everyone concerned. The stuff he can't get from the area will take time, but he's confident he'll have the store up and running in a couple of weeks. The real problem will be maintaining a revenue stream until the new stock comes in."

"Revenue stream?" Sarah asked.

"Money comin' in." Hoss explained. "Whether he's buyin' new grain or not, Bowe has expenses he has to look after. Wagon maintenance, feedin' and boardin' horses. Taxes on the property. If no one buys from him, he has no income to pay those things. That's...mostly why he's insured in the first place. The insurance money will take the place of that income he's missing."

"The higher up you go in the world of finance and industry the more important a revenue stream is. Some people have so much revenue, that they live off of the credit of their name for everyday purchases. But if that stream is cut off, their name is worthless, their credit is worthless. Which reminds me…" Adam looked to Sarah who blinked back, then jumped up and went to the pile of things that had come from the wagons, straight into the house. She sifted through the mail before pulling out two pieces of newspaper that had been clipped out of the Virginia City Herald.

"Roy set these articles aside for us." Adam said, then gestured for Sarah to read them.

She sat and held the first article up to the light, clearing her throat.

"New Transportation Laws Coming to Nevada.

The governor has announced that he will be signing into law, in the coming weeks, a series of amendments that include what may seem to be an insignificant alteration. But this small change will have a great impact on our fledgling state.

In the past few years The Virginia and Truckee Railroad Company has laid gleaming lengths of line that will connect our mines and communities to Carson City, California, and someday to the great Transcontinental Line. At this time these rails have been built to a gauge that accommodates narrow mountain passes, slender bridges and tight canyons. The locomotives that service the V&T are the approximate width of a typical wagon, as are the cars that the engines pull. Any rancher, logger, salesman or passenger knows how much can be put into a boxcar, cattle car, or passenger car without thinking on it, because the measurement is a standard in our part of the west. However, our eastern brothers enjoy wider gauges, larger and more powerful engines, grander and better appointed carriages, and the benefits of more shipping capacity, putting them ahead of the west in commerce and transportation alike. Our enterprising governor has sought to even the balance.

In the coming weeks he will sign a law that will standardize all Nevada rail gauges with those used in the east and California. With this bill will come financial support to the V&T to hire more men, pay better wages, and spur all rail lines in Nevada to make the change over as quickly as possible. In a recent statement from the capitol, the governor boasted that he suspects that California, Utah, Idaho and Arizona may follow in our footsteps to standardize gauges from coast to coast. The Virginia City Herald praises this step to the future and will continue to investigate the benefits of this great change to our state."

"When was that published?" Ben asked.

"Two days ago." Sarah said, setting the paper down by her plate and picking up the second article. This one was much smaller. "Retraction: The Virginia City Herald has been asked to retract its article concerning new transportation laws proposed to take effect in the state of Nevada. The governor has issued a clarification order that states as follows: Announcements concerning new transportation bills have been made prematurely. At this time, the state of Nevada will continue to rely on the completion of the Transcontinental Line for all standard gauge shipping and passenger service. All other narrow gauge lines will continue operation uninterrupted."

"That was published this morning." Adam said.

"The first article was published before the attempt on the governor's life, and the second article, after." Ben said.

Adam nodded.

"Then it seems where Earnest failed, World Wide Shipping still managed to succeed."

"What do you mean, Pa?" Hoss asked.

"I don't know the particulars. I don't know what threat this gauge change would have been to World Wide, but clearly they didn't want it to go through. They started by targeting the man who would be making the decision. And now, when that gambit fails, they've found another way to intimidate him into a retraction that has probably been sent to every newspaper in the state."

"What difference does the gauge make?" Joe asked.

"The Virginia and Truckee Railroad Company is owned by bankers and financiers in California. Big men, but not the biggest. The Transcontinental Railroad is a merger of some of the biggest railroad tycoons in the world. If the smaller lines switch gauges, and make it possible to ship more, faster, and cheaper, the Transcontinental loses out." Adam said. "Imagine if the governor had been right, and other states and territories in the west followed suit. The most expensive railroad line in the world would go broke in a matter of months. And men like Vanderbilt and Harriman and Gould would have to pay cash on the barrel for their dry goods."

"In other words, our governor stepped out of line, and the rich men of the world saw to it that he was put back in place." Ben said.

"Wasn't that a huge risk, letting that little feller take on such a big job?" Hoss asked.

Adam's voice dropped a little, his tone losing it's fervor as he spoke. "That little feller was...very smart. If he'd ever had a conscience in the past it was completely gone when he met up with me in that warehouse. I think the one mistake he made was caring too much about revenge. If he'd tried taking on the governor anywhere else in the state he might have succeeded." Adam's gaze went from the table to the faces of his family hesitantly.

"It's over now, Adam." Joe said, quietly. "He's dead. He'll be buried, and that'll be the end of it."

"Yeah." Adam said. "Wouldn't that make a nice surprise."