CHAPTER THREE

Ponderosa Ranch
Near Virginia City, Utah Territory
August 1860

Nevada was hot in the summer. It didn't steam like the boggy District of Columbia, but the arid summer sun beat down on man and beast alike, baking the earth until it parched and cracked. Interspersed with their ranch duties, the four Cartwright men spent much of their free time in the cool waters of Lake Tahoe on the western edge of their property. Hoss and Little Joe especially enjoyed horsing around in the lake, where Hoss, who had topped out at six feet, four inches and 300 pounds, would hold his younger and much smaller brother underwater and then pretend he couldn't find him, asking Adam and Ben if they'd seen the boy. Only when Little Joe's struggling reached a frantic pitch would Hoss release him, and the young man would shoot, sputtering, to the surface.

"Oh, there you are, Little Joe!" Hoss would exclaim in mock surprise as Joe spit out half the lake. "Here I thought you'd gone home."

Little Joe had turned eighteen in July, and it was clear he would remain the smallest member of his family. Though not short, he stood an inch below his father and Adam, and four inches below Hoss, and his wiry body would likely never fill out much. A number of young ladies in the area had recently taken notice of him, and Hoss and Adam had twice overheard their father lecturing Little Joe on the importance of acting "honorably" with young ladies. Naturally, they teased Little Joe about this to no end.

One morning, Little Joe mounted his horse, Cochise, to ride into Virginia City, ostensibly for a new pair of boots for the upcoming cattle drive to San Francisco, but also most likely to visit one of his many female admirers. Hoss and Adam wandered into the front yard to see him off.

"Now Joe," Hoss said seriously, "don't you go doin' nothin' dishonorable, you hear?"

Adam burst into gales of laughter. Little Joe glared at his brothers, then kicked his pinto and galloped off.

Hoss grinned. "Think he'll still be sore by the time he gets home?"

"Most likely," Adam said with a smirk. "Especially if he discovers what I left for him in his saddlebag."

"What'd ya leave him?"

"Oh, just a little note that says, 'Honor is a virtue.'"

When the brothers' laughter faded, they decided it might be best for them to be out when Little Joe returned home.

Just after the first of August, Ben, Adam, Little Joe, Hop Sing, and a dozen ranch hands drove most of the Ponderosa's cattle to market in San Francisco. Traveling about fifteen miles per day—any faster and the cattle would lose too much weight to fetch a good price—it took about two weeks to get there. Everyone hoped Ben would consent to stay in the city for a while, but after two days' rest, they set off for home.

Without the cattle, they made it home in four days. As Adam had hoped, there was a letter from Josie waiting for him. Hoss had brought it from Virginia City a few days before. The letter revealed little of import, but he treasured it all the same. Despite Aunt Rachel, Josie had enjoyed her summer in Boston and was excited to be back in Philadelphia for her second and final year of medical school. She mentioned neither the upcoming presidential election nor the Southern states' increasingly vehement threats of secession if the election didn't go their way.

Adam assumed correctly that Josephine was fully aware of the situation but declined to mention it because she knew he was also watching it, and she didn't want another plea from him to take refuge with Aunt Rachel in the event of war. He dashed off a reply, telling her about the cattle drive, including the bit where Ben had tripped backward over a tree root and landed squarely in an enormous pile of cow manure. After sealing the letter, he tucked the one from Josie into the drawer of his writing desk alongside every other letter she had ever written him. He sometimes spread them out in chronological order to see Josie's handwriting evolve from the scratchy scrawl of a child to the flowing script of a young woman.

Fall was a pleasant time on the Ponderosa. Once the cattle were sold, the ranch's workload lightened considerably until spring. The Cartwright men checked the house, bunkhouse, and barn for any drafts or leaks, making minor repairs as necessary, and made sure their retained cattle were in protected areas before winter set in, and then the brothers enjoyed their extra free time. Adam caught up on his reading, Hoss on his whittling, and Little Joe on his socializing. In general, they were all contented, especially when the fall produce came in and Hop Sing started baking pumpkin pies again.

But they all kept a wary eye on the political situation. The presidential election of 1860 was sending waves of anxiety and anger across the entire nation, both North and South. And it was complicated. There were four men running for the nation's highest office. The progressive new Republican Party had nominated Abraham Lincoln, the former Congressman from Illinois, while the Democratic Party had split along sectional lines. The Northern Democrats nominated Lincoln's erstwhile political opponent Stephen Douglas, also from Illinois, while the Southern Democrats nominated the current vice president, John Breckenridge. Meanwhile, a new moderate party, the Constitutional Union Party, had formed out of a group of aging politicians and nominated Tennessee slaveholder John Bell. Adam felt certain there was no way this election would end peacefully.

On November 10, the Cartwrights rose earlier than usual to ride into Virginia City. The town's new telegraph office was opening that morning, and they expected to receive the results of the presidential election from four days ago.

A crowd had already gathered outside the telegraph office by the time they arrived, and the Cartwrights had to position themselves five or six rows back from the office door.

"Hello there, Ben!" Roy Coffee, the town sheriff, hailed. They all greeted the congenial sheriff, who then turned to Adam. "How's your cousin, Josephine? She enjoying medical school?" Not typically the exuberant sort, Adam hadn't been able to stop himself boasting to nearly everyone in Virginia City about his cousin's medical school acceptance.

"Yes, sir," Adam said. "She's at the top of her class."

"We would expect no less," Roy said, smiling. He hadn't met Josie during her visit to the Ponderosa all those years ago, but if Ben Cartwright and his boys were any indicator of the family's quality, Josephine Cartwright would do well for herself. "When does she graduate?"

"May 18," Adam answered.

"I didn't realize she was graduating on your birthday, Adam!" Hoss said.

Adam grinned. "Yep! It'll be the best birthday present I'll ever get."

By that time, the crowd was growing restless waiting for the news. After another ten minutes, Little Joe grew bored and began to wander off after a pretty young lady who had batted her eyelashes at him, but Hoss grabbed his arm and pulled him back. An eternity later for the squirrely Little Joe but only ten more minutes for everyone else, Morris, the new telegraph operator from Carson City, stepped out of the office. A hush descended over the crowd.

Morris cleared his throat and waited for all eyes to turn to him, relishing the attention. When he felt he had created adequate suspense, he announced, "The next president of the United States is Mr. Abraham Lincoln!"

The crowd erupted, half in triumph, like the Cartwrights, who supported Mr. Lincoln, and half in outrage. Within seconds, men on opposing sides had begun exchanging fisticuffs, and women and children were fleeing the area. Little Joe was about to dive into the melee when Ben grabbed him and hustled him away, Adam and Hoss trailing closely behind and occasionally dodging a flying townsman. Ben dragged his youngest son into the International House Hotel and plunked him in a chair in the dining room, where he ordered four coffees.

"Why'd you drag me away, Pa?" Little Joe protested. "That scuffle looked like fun."

Ben opened his mouth, but he was cut short by several sharp reports of small-arms fire. Adam flinched, and Hoss's eyes grew wide as saucers. A chagrined Little Joe shrank in his chair.

"Are they shootin' because Mr. Lincoln won the election, Pa?" Hoss asked in astonishment.

Ben felt a surge of love for his middle son who had difficulty comprehending unkindness of any sort, and he hoped that the impending conflict wouldn't leave Hoss jaded toward mankind. "Yes, they are," he answered grimly.

"D'ya think we should go help the sheriff?"

"No, Hoss, we are going to stay right here and drink our coffee."

As if on cue, the waiter arrived with a large pot of strong coffee and four mugs.

"If it's this bad in Virginia City, imagine how bad it must be in Washington," Little Joe mused. Hoss kicked him under the table—a frequent occurrence—just as Little Joe noticed the ashen expression on Adam's face. Horrified realization washed over him. "Oh, Adam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. My mouth just got ahead of my brain."

"It's ok," Adam said as he passed Little Joe the cream. "You didn't say anything I wasn't already thinking."

"Don't you boys worry," Ben told his sons. "Josie is safely tucked away in Philadelphia, and Jacob told me in his last letter that if Washington, DC, becomes unsafe, he will send your Aunt Hannah to Boston."

"Yeah, but what about Uncle Jacob?" Hoss said.

"He's a doctor. He'll go where he's needed." Ben disliked the thought of his younger brother joining the Army, even if doctors were put back away from the fighting, but he was proud of Jacob's sense of duty to his country.

"They'll need him in Washington," Adam said. "This war isn't far off now."

"I hope you're wrong," Ben said, "but I'm afraid you're not."

"That war wouldn't have anything to do with us way out here in the territory, though, would it, Pa?" The concern was clear in Hoss's voice. He had no desire to see a battle.

"Not directly, no. I wouldn't expect fighting to come this far west. But everyone in Nevada is originally from somewhere else, and those loyalties don't fade away, as you've seen this morning. The Southerners are terrified that Mr. Lincoln will take their slaves away, and even though slavery isn't allowed here in the territory, the men originally from the South still believe they should have the right to own slaves."

The four men sat and sipped their coffee for several long moments, each lost in his own thoughts. When his mug was empty, Ben strode to the window to check on the situation outside. Satisfied that Sheriff Coffee and his deputies had dispersed the mob, he announced that he was headed to the mercantile. He instructed his sons to rejoin him at the hotel for lunch and while staring directly at Little Joe, admonished them all to stay out of trouble.

Adam shook his head in bemusement. "Thirty years old, and I'm still being bossed around by my father."

Little Joe gave him a sly smile. "You could always get married."

"And give up the privilege of living with the two of you? Never!" Adam grinned and threw an arm around each of his brothers. In truth, he'd been engaged once, but the young lady had run off with someone else, which had put him off courting for quite some time. In hindsight, he decided that had probably been just as well. It had never felt right to leave home while his brothers were still young. If Pa had married again, things might have been different, but Adam had felt responsible for helping to raise his brothers. Now that Hoss and Little Joe were grown, however, perhaps it was time to reconsider the matter. He could easily help to run the ranch from his own home elsewhere on the property. Pa had promised each of his sons a section of the Ponderosa for their own when the time came, and Adam had selected a piece near the lake he intended to ask for, but he was in no hurry. He did sometimes long for a woman's companionship, but he'd never minded solitude. Life was more predictable that way.

The three brothers exited the hotel and, blinking in the bright sunlight, sauntered back down the wooden sidewalk to the telegraph office to conduct some important business. Surprisingly, there was no line for the telegraph. Considering this was the first day of operation for the new office, they'd expected to wait in a long queue of other people anxious to send a message zipping across the continent to relatives back east.

"Sheriff Coffee sent everyone home," Morris explained as he handed the Cartwrights a piece of paper and a pencil so they could compose their message. "The ones he didn't send to jail, that is."

Little Joe laughed until Adam reminded him that he'd attempted to join the men who were now cooling their heels in the town jail and suggested they focus their energies on writing their telegram. Hoss began dictating a Dickensian message about everything he had seen and done in the past two weeks, but Adam pointed out that telegrams needed to be short. Instead, Adam suggested "Dear Josephine, Best of luck on your exams next month. You are a credit to our family," which Little Joe contended sounded like a message from someone's grandmother. When Adam lost his cool and shouted "Well, what do you suggest, if you're so smart?" such a heated argument broke out among the three brothers that Morris, being new to town and unfamiliar with the Cartwright brothers, wondered if he needed to call for the sheriff again. Fortunately, Charlotte Larson, who had known the Cartwrights since Little Joe was born, entered the office just then and assured Morris that this was normal. She shoved past the squabbling young men and ignored their racket as she composed a telegram to her sister in Denver. She handed Morris her message and payment and turned to leave. She paused just long enough on her way out to crack each of the brothers smartly upside the back of the head before sweeping out the door with an audible "Hmph!"

Reunited in their indignation, the brothers conducted a more subdued debate and finally settled on a message that Adam argued was ridiculous, but Hoss pointed out that at least it was short.

Morris swallowed his laughter when he saw the final message, scratched out in Adam's neat penmanship:

"Hi Josie STOP Love Adam Hoss Joe"