Riverboat Gambler

by J7339

A stranger from Ben's past is about to come into the life of his youngest son, intending to tear down the close father/son relationship they share. In the process of being written with more complicated content and hopefully a better story. New Content and Chapter Seven has now been posted. (April 2021)

7. Reminiscing And Remembering

RIVER BOAT GAMBLER

By Jules

Chapter 7 – Reminiscing And Remembering

Author Notes – in this chapter I have used exerts and scenes from the Bonanza episode Marie, My Love, but I have not kept strictly to those events or lines and some have been altered to suit my plot. The biggest of these is Marie having spent time living in the same house as Marius Angerville. I took descriptions of the inside of the house from the episode, but the second floor and description of other rooms are entirely invented for my purposes. The reasons for these changes or alterations I hope will be explained as the story pans out more.

from the previous chapter:

"I want to go and check on a place, there is a little tavern on the coast called the Captain's Nest, Ben replied, deliberating avoiding any forthcoming information on where he was heading. "I will meet you there in two hours where we can put our heads together and decide what our next best move is."

and now the story continues:

"Adam, that fella might not have come across to you as someone who is mighty neighbourly at first, but he gave us what he knew about Joe," Hoss commented as the two brothers watched their father leave.

"You were the one that had to separate him from the other wagon driver before the Constable came along," Adam pointed out plainly. "He was pretty quick to hold out his hand for the money when I offered, including the extra tip. He wasn't too happy that cowboys didn't accept the ride and complained loudly about making any offer in the future."

"Reckon he was at that," Hoss remarked, not able to deny anything that Adam had stated. "Maybe he has a reason for being so eager. There must be quite a few taxi driver's in a place this big, all trying to get the same fare."

"Without a doubt, there would be many," Adam agreed, stepping aside from a number of people walking past, and pulling on the sleeve of his larger sibling's shirt, encouraging him to follow his example.

"A lot more people in this city walking the streets than you would normally be used to, Hoss," Adam gently chided. "You have to be on your toes because there is always someone waiting to step on them. Did he at least give you his name, in case we need to find him again?"

"Folk around here do seem to be in a hurry," Hoss noted, not liking how rushed and chaotic the streets were. "Last name was Doyle, that much I remember. His first name...," pausing to recall what he had heard.

"The heavy Irish accent he had was unmistakable, so Doyle certainly fits," Adam replied in agreement.

"She-miss, She-says...," Hoss pronounced, frustrated that neither of those suggestions sounded correct. "He sounded sorta like that McCarthy fella that we had all that trouble with when I found that strong box full of gold."

"Seamus," Adam filled in, giving a little chuckle, finding his brother's efforts mildly amusing, but quickly making it disappear at receiving the distinct stare of disapproval.

"That ain't fair, Adam," Hoss huffed indignantly. One of the few times that he felt like siding with his younger brother when Adam appeared to be getting too big for his britches, and using his college education in mockery.

"It is a very common Irish name that I have heard in the past," he gave in his own defence. "There have been a few people that I have known over the years that you have never met. We don't need to be coming across the likes of anybody like McCarthy," he added, remembering that saga well."

"Let's get to what we need done about finding Joe," Hoss countered, not entirely believing his brother's excuse, but letting it drop for more important things at hand.

"Yes, let's do that," Adam encouraged. Time was not on their side, and was slipping away.

Deep down, he was beginning to worry as much as his father about how many days it had been now since Joe had been forcibly separated from his family. They may not find anybody who had seen Joe this time around, or find something left behind that belonged from him. They had been fortunate enough to find clues along the way so far up until now, but Adam wasn't convinced that their share of luck could last forever. With a city of this size, the enormity of their task was beginning to stand out starkly.

"Feels kinda odd getting around without having our own horses to rely on," Hoss stated. "It would be good to find someone who has a bit more knowledge of where to go than we do. Might help us be able to find out where that skunk is keeping Joe."

"That would be something worthwhile, Hoss," Adam answered, knowing that they were all eager to find any shred of evidence that would aid in their search. "We do need to find that livery stable that Pa was talking about and suitable horses."

"A word of warning; you have been in this city less than a couple of hours, and you cannot suddenly judge the character of a person because they gave you their name and know their way around?" Adam mentioned. If these were the streets of Virginia City, then he would have had no problem believing any commentary from the people that were crossing their path, or need to second guess their intentions. In the past, Hoss was pretty good at being able to tell the measure of a man, by his walk and by the gun he wore.

New Orleans was very different from what his younger brother was used to. The city had a personality all of her own that only a few had ever truly captured with a paintbrush or music and song. Hoss had previously visited cities such as San Francisco, and once to Boston, but that was the sum total of his extensive experience. Any advantage they may have possessed or gained was stripped away.

Right now, the two of them were still wearing travel clothes. They couldn't see any well-dressed gentleman openly wearing a gun-belt. They were the strangers in a city where the people stared back, misjudging character based on appearance before any interaction ever happened.

The two brothers had watched their father walk down the street at an even pace, away from them in an easterly direction. "Pa was sure being secretive about where he was headed wasn't he, Adam?" Hoss casually commented, fiddling with the brim of his hat.

"There are memories from this city that have haunted Pa for a long time, Hoss," Adam pointed out to his larger sibling, having a little inkling of which 'other place' would draw their father's attention away from finding Joe. In truth, their father may have prayed that going there would provide some of the answers they desperately needed.

The silhouette of their father quickly became lost amidst the busy crowd that made up a typical New Orleans street. The two Cartwright men turned in a westerly direction, away from the Railway Station, intending to find accommodation and transportation in the city.

---

The mid-morning sun was warm, and even more people had congregated, going about their business and daily lives in all manner of ways. From horse drawn, enclosed elaborate carriages, open coaches and narrow single-seated buggies. The modes of transport were very different to those one would find on the streets of Virginia City.

The gentlemen owning their own horses, sat astride them, riding purposefully towards their intended destination. Both mounted riders and wheeled vehicles criss-crossed their way down the wide streets. The noise from wagon wheels, the snapping of leather reins, pedestrians and animals alike, all crescendoed together in a chaotic orchestra that assaulted the senses of a visitor all at once.

This vast and vibrant city of New Orleans was a totally different experience, and for Ben, it was difficult not to compare his daily routine in quiet, reserved Virginia City, to how people made their way about these bustling streets. The men riding those horses were impeccably groomed and seated on ornately carved leather saddles. Ladies paraded the street in fine dresses, their faces partly shaded by large, wide brimmed hats, joining in pleasant conversations.

Tom Perkin's humble General Store would be swallowed up by these larger shops, though the personal attention to detail for each customer would be absent. Bigger wasn't always better in Ben's opinion, and he liked to be able to take his own time to peruse the variety of goods available to purchase.

The smell of the air was dusty as a breeze gusted and swirled about, taunting the coat tails of the men, and the long skirts of the ladies. Taking a look down at one's feet however, and they would soon be greeted by the overpowering stench of fouled water and partially dried mud that came from day to day business operations. A few shops away, where the street intersected with another, a butcher could be seen outside of his store, using a large knife to dismember a beef carcass.

Walking past a small apothecary establishment and the scent of perfume and dried flowers wafted out, drawing attention from the ladies who gathered around the window in small groups and chatted excitedly. Strong but enticing aromas came from the numerous bake houses making the daily quota for the masses.

Making his way down the street, Ben found the sights and aromas about New Orleans stirring up a whole array of emotions. A distinct reminder of how much the city had grown, expanded and diversified since his last visit, but more importantly, how much he had changed.

Ben tipped his hat politely to one young woman as he walked past her, but he received a brief and curt nod in response to his chivalrous manners. Her attention being drawn to the small child clinging with a sticky hand to her long skirt and a large colourful lollipop in the other.

There was a part of Ben that wanted to travel as quickly as the other folks would allow to his intended destination, but there were memories from the past catching up to him, following with a breath of nostalgia and causing his stride to shorten and his pace to wither with trepidation. Although it had been many years since he had walked down this particular route, somehow his feet carried him without hesitation and he found himself nearing a familiar bend in the road.

Before long he recognised an approaching street sign which read Rue Royale, and suddenly there was no crowd of people; quite the opposite, everyone but himself faded away with the ghost of time. Ben Cartwright found himself standing not far from the front of a building that brought back a mixed up, patchwork of emotions and a plethora of overwhelming memories.

One fateful morning all those years before he could vividly recall approaching from the opposite direction, passing in front of the Exchange Place, a local market where many different people gathered to buy and sell goods. This part of the city and people who dwelt within these streets often held a sordid reputation compared to other more affluent neighbourhoods. Walking on foot that day he had been making his way across the chalky road, the street sign had been affixed on a wrought iron fence, not the fancy tall lamp post where is was currently attached and displayed.

On that day his attention had been on other matters at the time, when without warning, the unmistakable sound of a galloping horse startled him from behind, causing him to move quickly and maintain his balance, but also to sidestep out of the animal's path. The large chestnut obeying the sharp snap of the reins from its master's skilful hands and altering its intended direction enough to avoid a collision. Ben found himself being covered in dust and showered in small stones that were churned up as a result of the horse's hooves on the loosely compacted roadway.

A young woman revealed herself as the rider, dressed handsomely in a tailored, full length fitted black dress, trimmed with silver brocade. On her head she wore a tall black fabric hat trimmed with a long white sheer ribbon and accented by a scarlet red flower. A playful smile crossed her lips and she seemed to take a small amount of delight at Ben's futile attempts to shield himself from the debris raining down on his travel cloak.

Elegant, and youthfully bold, her enticing laughter reached his ears and he had not been able to disguise his curiosity, offering a genuine smile of his own in greeting. The mystery of a name and who she was only grew more as the horse galloped away from him towards the house. Ben adjusted his coat tails and top-hat, making a silent promise to himself to learn everything he could about her.

Time had become both a combatant enemy and a trustworthy friend. Allowing him the luxury of reminiscing and the feeling of mystery and intrigue; only then to show him the cruel hand of fate with the loss and loneliness for the love and life that had ripped from him too soon.

A team of horses pulling a wagon drove out in front of Ben from the street at heart-racing speed, the sharp snap of the leather reins ringing in his ears, the churning dust filling his lungs and causing him to cover his mouth and nose with the bandanna he wore. For a short time, he was bent over at the waist, lifting his eyes briefly only to find his view obscured by the choking plume, forcing a harsh cough to erupt from the back of his throat. He was forced to look away again and use the brim of his hat to shield his eyes as best he could from the cloud of debris, coughing a second time.

Ben's barely contained apprehensive expression turned into one of confusion for a moment as he stood and gazing at the exterior of what had once been a grand house. Overbearing and much taller than some of the other buildings nearby and further down the adjacent and parallel streets. In earlier times, the house had proudly stood without neighbouring homes on either side. From what little he had learned, Marius' family had been a proud family and signified this with everything that was owned.

Delivering news of Jean's unfortunate death had brought no comfort to Marius or Marie, but Ben had promised the man that he would see through such a dreadful task to the end. He still recalled vividly the first time he had entered the house and was greeted with Marius sitting at a table, wielding a sword. Although he had only known the man a short time, an sense of guilt over his death existed. For many years afterward taking Marie back to Nevada, he would ask himself if he could have done more to prevent the duel that would ultimately cause his demise.

The shadows of the past were beginning to take a much firmer hold, tugging at his memory, almost guiding his footsteps. His attention was drawn towards the house, and for a brief moment he found himself contemplating; a doorway began to emerge, opening up and inviting him to walk through the passages of time.

In an instant, his mind was forcibly wrenched back to current time, like a stranger delivering a cold harsh slap to his face, there was no emotional connection to hold onto. No familiarity to cling to with the dwindling hope that somehow a ghostly shadow of Marie's presence would help him find Joseph before it was too late.

Upon first meeting of Marius, he remembered the timbers of the two-storey home being weathered grey, but still sturdy and well-constructed. Ben could recall there being some shrubs planted on either side of the main support beam, but the unruly growth made them appear sparse and spindly. There had been the threat on more than one occasion to have them forcibly removed, and now it appeared that it may have been carried out, because there was no living greenery surrounding the lower level of the building.

Once there had been an old rickety chair seated out the front, in which his friend, Marius, liked to watch the people and the bustling city go by. Above his head there had been a large aging sign which read Angerville Academy. What greeted him now was a building that was so very different from the house that Marie had so loved and cherished. The timber painted a dull white. Where Marius's chair had been, now there was a large cumbersome pushchair and the sign had been hastily scribed over to read: Royale Rue Hospital.

Everything had changed, and perhaps Ben paused regretfully, and being honest, himself most of all. Today he wasn't wearing the heavy cloak that he had been that fateful day or his newly purchased hat. Only his long travel coat which he had made a poor attempt to brush the street dust off, and his hat, one that wasn't new but fit better after many years of moulding to his head.

Ben removed his hat out of common courtesy, like he had done that first day when greeting Marius. Today, his first few steps into the entrance-way caused those memories of yesteryear to return tenfold, casting a strange spell over him and causing him to hesitate in his gait as he entered through the front doors. Once inside he stopped in the large expansive room, his gaze drawn in all directions. His mind was trying to recall what had changed and what remained the same.

On the wall beside the door, there had been a large elaborate tapestry draping from ceiling to floor, covering most of the main front window. Marie had told him that it had been especially brought in from Spain at great expense, but now he could only vaguely remember the figure of a horse woven into the fabric. This had now been replaced by thick heavy curtains that blocked a lot of the natural sunlight penetrating into the room. A number of lights inside burned brightly despite it being a clear sunny day outside in the street.

In front of the tapestry, the large heavy set dark wooden desk with ornately carved legs had been replaced with a plain wooden bench seat. There was no longer any coat stand just inside the doorway to hang one's coat, so Ben left his coat on. The large rust coloured rug that had adorned the floor had been replaced by a clean hard surface. Cold and uninviting with no story to tell.

The brick work that had been on Ben's right when he walked through the door was now sealed up and the cabinet that once rested against it gone, as was the heavy brass Coat of Arms plaque signifying the stature of the family from an earlier time.

There had been two embroidered Edwardian chairs down stairs, as Ben remembered the lovely brocade on each of them, but they were nowhere to be seen. Nor the number of bronze statues or the brass candlestick holders that had been present during past visits. Although there had been changes, Ben's mind could recall exactly how the room had been decorated with antique furniture and elaborate collectable pieces from many different parts of the world.

The mahogany staircase, carved out of rich dark wood that gave it a commanding presence in the room and was central to the lower floor, was now painted a stark white, with little elegance or grandeur left to be seen. Any knots of age had been sanded back and the surface now smooth and void of any kind of character.

Unfortunately once Marie had joined him to live at the Ponderosa, Ben had not been able to keep up with who had acquired this stately building after Marius' death. Marie had certainly been concerned and had written to good friends whom she could trust. But she had not received any replies as to who had taken over the residence. Someone had planned for it be used in a more practical manner as a hospital.

For being mid-morning, the whole place was strangely void of noise and people. Quiet was usually expected at a hospital, but the atmosphere that greeted him on this felt like something entirely different.

Echoes of the very first conversation Ben remembered having with Marius ran through his mind as he placed a hand on the staircase railing, preparing to head to the next floor. A smile touched his lips as he pictured the scene of Marius maintaining an epee replaying before him. His question about the man's identity had been answered with another question and they had talked about his clipper voyage to New Orleans.

Upon his arrival, he was unaware that of the tangled connections and bitterness that existed within the family, not only with Jean, but towards Marie and Marius. Giving his mother the awful news had not been an easy or welcomed task. When he thought some common ground had been reached about being able to sell the furs he had brought with him, she had quickly turned her back and refused any further audience when the subject turned to his marriage with Marie. It soured even further when he gave her information about his accommodation, and Marius' name was given as a good friend.

The woman was adamant that the two men had never shared such a friendship. Marius had declared openly that he considered Jean like a son. Further conversations with Angerville confirmed that they had once been good friends, but Marie had greatly disapproved of him challenging her cousin to a duel.

Ben found the man's manner relaxed and friendly from the very beginning. The torment in the man's eyes at hearing of Jean's death that day had been very real. His sense of duty for carrying out an unenviable undertaking stayed strong. In the end he had seen to it that the man's last wishes were carried out to the best of his ability, including the partial apology to Marie which had not been well received or accepted.

The bannister beneath his hand felt smooth but a little less familiar. For the number of times he had visited this particular residence, there had been even fewer times that he had climbed the staircase to the next floor without invitation. There was no such permission on this occasion either, but he felt compelled to head in this direction.

At the top of the stairs, there was a large landing, a luxurious sitting room behind the door directly facing him. There was a smaller bedroom to the left, and a corridor that led to a number of other bedrooms and bathrooms to the right. Ben kept his focus on the door to the sitting room, putting his hand on the brass door knob, but pausing before turning it in his hand.

A warm breath of air blew against his neck, and Ben used his gloved hand to brush it aside. Admonishing himself for being silly, he gathered a good helping of confidence and twisted the knob. For a moment he had been expecting resistance and the door to be locked, but instead he was delighted with a touch of surprise when he was able to enter without further impedance.

As he walked inside the room, his gaze was drawn to the large vacant expanse of plaster wall above the fireplace. No fire had burned there for many years, and the surrounding grate and ornate black iron insert on the front were now cold to the touch. At one time a large portrait painting of a young Marie had taken pride of place above that mantel. A picture that had taken Ben's breath away when he had first laid eyes on it, not unlike his impromptu meeting of the young woman herself that first morning.

A striking pose, with the ghost of a smile on her lips, as though mischievously taunting anybody who gazed upon her when they walked into the room. In the oil-brushed depiction she had been wearing an heirloom French lace shawl across her shoulders. At another time it had belonged to her mother, handmade by and passed down by her maternal grandmother. The garment was now carefully stored in a chest in Ben's bedroom. The background of the photo had depicted a fenced paddock and one of Marie's favourite horse's Aramis, a handsome black stallion. The name of the artist who had painted the portrait evaded him.

The brass frame and picture had been removed, the room itself devoid of furniture except for a few remaining large, bulky antique pieces scattered across the room in a chaotic, disarranged collection. An elegant long settee could be detected beneath a heavy calico drop cloth, covering the richly embroidered fabric, keeping it protected and hidden, erasing the years and purpose that it had once served. At one time there had been a beautiful wood stained grand piano over in the corner of the room, but now that space was vacant. There wasn't even a round scuff mark on the floor left behind by the wooden feet.

This room had been one of Marie's favourite, with morning sunshine warming it during early spring. Aristocratic society of New Orleans would have deemed it a reception or drawing room, she had referred to it often as her parlour. Ben had come to learn that it was the privacy of the room that drew her to spend most of her time there. A place where she would write long letters to friends, and record entries in her personal diary. A few of those private journals were wrapped in parchment paper and tucked away out of sight in the same chest as the shawl back in Nevada.

Ben swapped the hat he was carrying to his opposite hand as intense emotional winds buffeted against his back, causing him to drawn in a deep breath and slowly exhale. Feelings that he had pushed down deep a long time ago were finding their way to the surface, refusing them to be ignored. Trying once more to regain some kind of composure, he placed his free hand on the uncovered mantle above the fireplace. Supporting himself at arms length, he was attempting to establish some balance between reality and memories that were growing stronger within this very room.

The man wasn't wearing any gloves this morning, and lightly ran a finger very slowly the entire length the wooden mantle. Lifting up his hand, he didn't quite know what he expected to find. There was no dust on his hand or fingertips, no shards of Marie who had made this place a home. Remnants from a lifetime ago that had aged with time, or the ashes from a house he had barely known, and was no closer to unlocking the secrets held within. Shivering slightly, his mind returned to present time.

This room had not yet been painted white like some of the walls downstairs, signifying its transformation into a space used as part of a hospital. The lace curtains that had once hung there had been replaced by thicker, darker drapes. The whole room appearing clean and bleak, as though Marie had never lived here at all. Lifting his arm from the mantle, Ben turned and walked a few paces across to the left-hand side of the room.

Beneath the window was a small round oak writing desk that was decorated with a fine lace tablecloth, accompanied by a single chair. A vase of delicate pale cream roses allowed a gentle scent to fill the room with a light perfume. The petals took on a paler colour as warm gentle morning sunlight streamed through the window and bathing that one side of the room. Vanilla, one of Marie's favourite scents, even after she had moved away to the Ponderosa.

On top of the desk lay a handwritten sheet of music, waiting to be carried across to the opposite side of the room to the piano. For a moment, Ben could almost hear the sweet melody that would play. Reaching down with a trembling hand, his fingertips almost touching the aged paper. His attention drawn away for only a mere moment, but upon looking down again, he couldn't help but blink away a silent tear that escaped from the corner of his eye. There was no lace, no sheet of musical notes on the table or vase of flowers. Only a metal service tray that had been painted plain white.

Time and his mind were playing a cruel game with his emotions and memories, or was he responsible for trying to recapture the very essence of a love lost? One that he still held deep in his heart.

Ben walked to the door, pausing and taking one last look behind as he closed the door, intending to head back downstairs. For the immediate future his unyielding focus, energy and efforts were needed to find Joe. When his son was safe, and they were ready to take him back home, then perhaps he could indulge in reminiscence and wander once more through those halls of yesteryear.

---

Back on-board the paddle-boat:

Joe Cartwright lay prone on the bed, unaware of what had transpired for quite a number of hours. His curly dark head twisting and turning on the pillow, as though he couldn't find a comfortable position. Earlier in the evening his sleep had resulted from the sedative that Seline had administered. Gazing down at the young man with fresh growing concern in her own eyes, Bonnie couldn't be sure that it was the residual drug in his system was causing his current state. The young man's restlessness had increased over the past few hours. His position of laying on his back on the bed had not changed.

Bonnie had been able to remove the young man's fine jacket and ruffled shirt as he slept without him giving her any trouble or being in a position to resist or object. Fever still plagued him, and she had spent the majority of the night bathing his forehead and chest with cool water. Her consistent efforts had managed to bring down his temperature but it had not relinquished its hold on him completely. Thankfully, she had been successful in getting some water down Joe's throat, but she feared it was not enough to completely starve off the effects of dehydration.

The tanned skin beneath her fingertips felt hot to the touch as she ran a soft cool, dampened cloth across his chest with her opposite hand. Standing up and walking, he had begun to show some small signs of improvement earlier today, and had spoken to her as he dressed in the clothes left out for him. Joe had openly displayed his displeasure about not being able to remember simple things about himself, and had tried to argue with her. Emotions and actions that he had been unable to accomplish on his own a couple days ago aboard the train.

Since he had first been carried back from the gaming room by the two men, his sleep had been rather quiet and unremarkable. That had begun to change as dawn broke upon the horizon, with the pattern of his breathing turning from sounding deep and rhythmic to being much more shallow. Joe tossed his head back and forth on the pillows several times, and his brow creasing momentarily with confusion and pain. Bonnie was convinced that the young man was going to open his eyes and wake up, but alas, so far that hadn't happened.

At least twice he had called out one clear word, but on its own, there was little substance or meaning to it, so no connection could be drawn as to why he had uttered it. Any other speaking had been infrequent, and incoherent mutterings punctuated with moans of pain. Joe had lifted his arm up to his head, running his fingertips across his forehead, signalling that he was still experiencing headaches. The few steps forward in recovery he had gained today had taken several steps back.

Bonnie was tired herself, both mentally and physically, and Seline and the other two men had shown little empathy to the long hours thrust solely upon her to care for the injured Cartwright boy. She had been hoping to gauge how much of his memory was returning by talking to him and taking note of his physical health, but he needed to be awake for that. She was growing concerned that she wouldn't be able to maintain the false bravado of pretending not to care about the prisoner's welfare.

Since taking the bold step of leaving the note at the docks for the Cartwright family in San Francisco, there had been no contact from them or anybody else who might be in a position to help rescue him from Seline's clutches. There was no way to know if they had even knew of his peril, or if they were travelling towards New Orleans to help Joe.

The young woman prided herself on being able to rise to the challenge and cope in situations that society would deem unsuitable for a proper lady. She knew how to work hard, and tolerate tough men, but Bonnie didn't know if she was strong enough to dare and offer more help. What could she achieve on her own without incurring Seline's wrath for them both? The risk of drawing suspicion and being caught was high and should she be removed from taking care of the young man and he was left by himself, what then? Would Joe Cartwright be able to fend off any threat to his life or create any kind of escape attempt?

The meeting with Seline and the conversation they had shared had distressed him greatly. She had seen the pain reflected in his eyes at the tangled web that had been woven about his mother's previous life. Learning about her tragic death at the hands of another man had been devastating news. She had felt the trembling in his limbs, and knew he was searching for any shred of familiarity or salvage any kind of past to cling to in order to make sense of everything that he was being told.

That whole time, Bonnie was aware that Joe was being manipulated by Seline into believing false accusations about his real mother and father, whilst setting himself up as the caring parent figure that was a large part of his life. She had heard the man deliberately name Ben Cartwright as the man responsible for Marie's riding accident. For a second time today, a great deal of shame came over her at being an unwilling party to such a cruel charade.

Despite any efforts she might be making now to care for Joe, they would not be enough to make up for her part in this fiasco. No matter the extra risk she had taken to try and get outside help for the young man, she was just as culpable as the other men in his kidnapping and captivity. Bonnie had to resign herself to accept that her decision in the past, big and small had determined the fate of the Cartwright boy and all that he had been forced to endure up until this point. Her choices from this point onwards would determine the outcome and consequences for them both.

A few hours ago, Joe had come running into the gaming room, dishevelled and confused, barely able to stand and experiencing pain, shocking all those present with his strength of mind and physical strength. Panic had set in as too many images assailed him at once and there was no way to arrange them into any coherent order. The young man had pointed accusingly at Edwards and Yeager, clearly remembering a previous encounter with both men.

When the boy had collapsed in front of them all, Edwards and Yeager had conveyed the injured prisoner back to the room he had been occupying. Following that, Edwards had been sent in person to call upon the same physician that had come aboard the vessel when they arrived in New Orleans. Seline had instructed him to bring the doctor back with him, but had flown into a furious rage when the man had returned with only a message.

The doctor, Hector Rawlings, was out on another urgent visitation and had refused to stop his treatment and dealings and with that patient upon being summoned. Edwards had been told that Rawlings would come at the first available opportunity, but that was now approaching more than twelve hours ago.

Seline and Yeager had left Bonnie to take care of the young man on her own, expecting that Edwards would only be absent for a short time. When the man didn't return to the vessel after hours, they had retired to bed. During that time, she tried to best to take stock of Joe's symptoms and general well-being, as well as what she could recall had transpired since the doctor's last visit. The physician would be wanting as much information as possible when he arrived to make an accurate diagnosis.

Bonnie was startled out of her own thoughts by shouting coming from outside.

"The Doctor is here," she heard Yeager call out to his employer.

"It's about damn time," Seline muttered out loud, appearing in the doorway to his own private cabin, adjusting his embroidered waistcoat, and looking down at his pocket watch, noting the hour. Yeager stood nearby as Edwards escorted the doctor up the gangway onto the deck.

"Good morning, Doctor," came Marchant's thinly veiled cordial greeting after taking the cigar from his mouth and letting out a acrid puff of smoke. "I expected your presence quite some hours ago when I first sent one of my men to summon you."

The gangly, tall physician was carrying his small black bag in his right hand, "I came when time allowed," came the curt answer. The man's complexion was quite pale and his gait was slow. "I have been awake for the past forty-eight hours and am in no mood to be chastised like one of your poorly educated lackey's."

"Now you listen here," Seline snarled, ignoring the doctor's words entirely, "I am paying you good money, so I expect service when I call upon you."

The doctor stood up to his full height, his own anger beginning to grow, "No, you listen to me my good man, I am the only physician within a thousand miles on either side of the river who would accept your money. For the moment, my work at the hospital combined with the area that I am expected to cover on my own for private house calls, the workload is extensive. In any other city of this size, it would normally require the services of several of my learned colleagues. I can assure you that none of them would even bother with a professional visit of this nature, no matter the payment being offered."

"I have just spend the last twenty four hours with a woman with a difficult delivery of her baby. Had I left when your man requested, then both the mother and child would certainly have been lost to blood loss and complications that had set in. As it stands now, both are healthy and should survive only due to my vigilance. There are many other patients that I am responsible for in addition to the young man you are keeping here," Rawlings explained plainly.

He had been hoping to end his association with Seline and this whole messy affair, but as a doctor, felt compelled to follow up on anybody he had previously seen. Hector couldn't deny to himself that he was looking for a way out of his current obligations that didn't involve neglect or poor treatment on his part.

"You should be informed that I have tendered an application to the St Mercy Hospital as chief physician and consultant, and believe that I meet the necessary skill set and experience required. Should I be deemed worthy of such an honoured capacity, then all other work, including attending to private patients would cease immediately. The hospital is currently undergoing extensive expansion and will soon be considered to be the centre of medicine and learning for the whole state," Rawlings confirmed. "That would suit someone like myself better and I may no longer be working at the smaller hospital where I am much longer. The current owner of that facility is still considering his next move in relation to it's fittings, upkeep and staffing arrangements. The man taking over ownership of the building may not be in a position financially to match such a lucrative opportunity."

"I don't care about any other hospitals where you work or patients that you have to attend to, they are none of my concern," Seline retorted without a shred of empathy. He was about to start another tirade at the doctor when he was abruptly cut off.

"Do you have a patient for me to see or not?" Rawlings spoke over the top of the man. "Because if you don't, then I see no reason for me to stay and be subjected to your bullish behaviour any longer."

A curt nod from Seline to Edwards and Yeager signalled for them to block the doctor's path should he choose to turn around and walk back the way he had come.

"He is occupying the same room when you last came here," Seline stated, unhappy that the doctor was talking back to him. The physician in San Francisco had argued with him too, and he had dealt with that person swiftly. The problem on this occasion was that this doctor's absence would be noticed. Another solution would need to be devised if the man's attitude did not improve to his liking.

---

Bonnie stood up slowly, straightening and smoothing the front of her dress as Doctor Rawlings appeared in the doorway, partially blocking the sunlight behind him and for a moment, creating a dark and imposing shadow. His attention was immediately drawn to back wall, critically gauging the figure laying on the bed. Without any further invitation, he removed the hat he was wearing, walking across the room and on the bedside table, setting down a small black medical bag he was carrying.

Originally, the doctor had told her that he would be returning on a regular basis over the course of a week to check on his patient, but so far, that had not happened and this was only the second occasion that Bonnie had been in his presence. The animosity between Seline and the doctor was obvious to everybody, and neither seemed to be willing to put aside their personal dislike for each other. She could only hope that Rawlings was experienced enough not to let petty bickering or differences distract him from his duty.

Towards the front of the room, Seline stood, continually rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots, impatiently waiting for an updated verdict about the young man's condition. As far as he was concerned, both the doctor and Joe himself were thwarting any attempts or drawn out plans that he had been making against the Cartwright family.

Edwards and Yeager chose to remain outside on the deck, waiting for instructions from Seline, noting that the room was already too crowded with fraying tempers.

Doctor Rawlings sat on the edge of the bed opposite to Bonnie, using the back of his hand on the young man's forehead. "Elevated and slightly warmer than I would normally like to see, but not at dangerous levels or unusual given the circumstances. How long has his temperature been like this?"

An unexpected noise interrupted the doctor's assessment and caused Joe to twist his head on the pillow towards the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

By turning his face towards the speaker there were distinct and prominent blemishes on his temple above the ear, spreading down the side of his face. There was a contusion on the back of his head, hidden beneath the dark matte of curly hair. An earlier one intended to knock him senseless in the street in San Francisco, but a second being suffered within moments. The fresher wound being the aftermath of the glancing blow aboard the train. Both subsequent blows delivered by Seline's own hand.

"Up until yesterday, I would have told you that the fever has been burning within him fairly consistently since your first visit. Now that I stop to think about it, his temperature has been much improved and lower within daylight hours. During the night it returns and starts rising again until the early morning hours," Bonnie answered.

Bonnie was surprised that the doctor was addressing her with his first questions about the young man's condition.

The doctor's method of examining the patient had not changed much, but his face held a little more character to it today, but his personality was too closed off. He had given her some comprehensive instructions after his initial assessment as to the best course of action, which she had tried her best to follow accordingly. Perhaps he wasn't used to treating younger patients, but the man's bedside manner needed major improvement.

"Similar symptoms have been noted and recorded by colleagues with other patient's who are suffering from a head injury," Rawlings informed her. "When was he brought back to this room? Has he been this restless the whole time?"

"Yesterday he was at least trying to eat and started to show some signs of pushing through and think more than he had been able to before. After lunch, I was told to assist him in getting dressed and taken out of this room," Bonnie gave in explanation. "He was unsteady on his feet, and went against my better judgement, but didn't want me to stay to help. By the time I opened the door again, he was a little more talkative and had managed to put almost everything on correctly without assistance. He did ask if the clothes picked out were something he would normally wear."

"He didn't demonstrate remembering anything simpler about himself like his name?" the doctor inquired. The entire time the young woman was speaking he could see her glancing towards the back of the room and being extra careful with her words.

Bonnie shook her head negatively to this question, "Not at that time, and he was only getting more frustrated with any efforts he made to try and force himself to remember," she filled in. "He couldn't hide the obvious pain that was evident the whole time. Stubbornness became more prevalent as he started showing improvement and wanting more independence. That includes attempting to do things for himself without help," she added.

"Have there been any further bouts of nausea or vomiting before or after he has eaten or taken in water?" Rawlings queried, his gaze returning to the young man as he groaned and moved about restlessly on the bed.

"At least once when I tried to press him to eat something a little more substantial," Bonnie answered truthfully. "You told me now to be concerned if he wasn't eating a real lot yet, and the texture of the food itself may have been wrong. But he needs to eat much better than he has if he is to regain his strength. The fever has been burning off too quickly what little energy his body has been getting. I have tried to do everything as you have told me, but I don't have the schooling like you do."

"I am sure you have managed as best you can," the doctor assured her, but any further back-handed praise was cut off when Seline made an impromptu snort of derision.

Rawlings had indeed promised and was prepared to come more frequently, but after leaving the vessel, Seline had sent word to him at the hospital that he would be contacted before his services were called upon again. The man had some grand idea that the young man was going to make a miraculous recovery. The doctor suspected this wouldn't be the case, but the man was obstinate and wanted to dictate terms based upon what fitted in with his own plans, not sound advice or the best course of action according to the young man's needs.

"What was different before he awoke in his confused state later in the day?" he asked, trying to pinpoint what might have caused a delay in his recovery.

"After he was dressed, I escorted him like Mr Seline wanted to the gaming room," Bonnie replied.

"When he was there in what you are describing as the gaming room, did you make sure that he wasn't offered alcohol? Did he consume any rich food, or eat something else that you know of that may have upset his stomach later?"

"No, not that I recall, he was given a glass of iced water, not hard liquor," Bonnie stated. "The same goes for food, he didn't have anything else to eat after leaving his room."

"Hmmmm," the doctor pondered, thinking that a few details were not adding up yet. "Can you think of anything to tell me?"

"No, I have told you everything I can," she started to say, "He was nervous, standoffish and unsure of everything and everybody here. His complexion was pale and he lacked any kind of co-ordination. By the time he left the gaming room, his emotional state was not good, aside from the headaches returning fiercely."

"Emotional state?" Rawlings recited, wanting her to elaborate further.

"When he left the room, he was upset and distressed about what had been talked about," Bonnie relayed. "Mr Seline told him that you would be examining him again when he mentioned the headaches being very bad."

"When he got to the room, he laid down on the bed, looking for anyway to escape the pain. I was about to hand him a glass of water before he dropped off to sleep, but Mr Seline dissolved a packet of powder into the water first. I thought it was one of the mild pain powders you instructed us to use, but it was not. It was one of the satchels that I was given in San Francisco to help put him to sleep."

"A sedative?" the doctor asked loudly, and clearly unimpressed. On the bed, Joe startled at the sudden outburst. The man paused a moment, thinking that his patient would wake. When it was clear that he may take some time to do so, he continued stating the reasons for his disapproval.

"After I gave strict instructions that I didn't want to take such measures until I was certain that there wouldn't be further complications with his head injury?" He suspected that the young woman's actions were heavily influenced by her employer, but that didn't excuse her entirely. He had meant for the question to be directed at Seline for his foolhardiness and at the girl to a lesser degree, with a tone to match that both should have followed his medical advice better.

"It didn't do him any harm," Seline tossed back casually with the butt of a cigar still clenched in his teeth. He wasn't in any mood for this doctor question his methods. "The boy was in pain, and I deemed it a necessary precaution. Bonnie has proven herself quite capable of attending to him up until now without needing you."

"Alas, your ignorance and your poor judgement may have caused more harm than good," Rawlings returned with a touch of condemnation.

"The young man eventually drifted to sleep, and to be honest for a good portion of time he was attempting to fight off effects the sedative," Bonnie spoke up, thinking that the doctor was judging any of their actions a little too harshly with his accusations. "Once he fell asleep, he stayed that way for a good few hours."

"When he woke again, none of us knew and when he burst into the gaming room for a second time, he was in pain, confused and disorientated," she went on to explain. "It was clear to me that some of his memories of his previous life as Joe Cartwright were assaulting him. I say that because he recognized the two gentlemen outside and recalled a recent encounter with them."

Bonnie's mention of the young man's real name and previous associations caused Seline to growl at her carelessness from across the room. She took a hasty step backwards closer to the bed, in case he decided to deliver a physical rebuke at her mistake.

The doctor put his hand on the patient's head, probing the matted curls and giving his candid assessment, "The swelling that is present now that I can feel has certainly subsided, so that is good and encouraging." Looking over at Seline as he pulled his hand away and spoke again, "Although you may want to hear the rest of my opinion, the time line is close to what I would have predicted for both improvement to be noticeable and for setbacks to occur. I still there there is quite a way for him to go yet before any kind of normalcy."

Rawlings was silently pleased to see the young man frown at the intrusion and fresh discomfort, and make an effort to pull away and escape from what was hurting him. The lips parted and a few incoherent words were whispered followed by a moan of pain. The patient's breathing pattern was slowly changing from when he had first come into the room, convincing him more that Joe was in the process of waking. The effects of the sedative were still affecting how long that may take.

"The bad headaches and dizziness are to be expected at this stage of recovery and demonstrates that the patient still needs to be monitored carefully," the doctor remarked. "I do agree with you that he needs more nourishment and be encouraged to eat it more regularly."

"I have tried doing that and giving a different selection each time that might tempt him more rather than just the thin broth and small amounts of soft food that he has been consuming," Bonnie replied. "I will keep persevering," she promised.

The doctor could hear Seline in the background, but ignored any blustering and intimidation tactics he was trying to employ to rush his diagnosis. Only when he was ready did he turn to Marchant and give a detailed care plan.

"There is no doubt in my mind that it was a dangerous move on your part to allow the young man to be out of bed for any extended period of time," Rawlings admonished. "He should have been resting, avoiding food that is too acidic or heavy on his stomach, all alcohol and be kept away out of a tobacco free environment. Especially for someone with not only one head injury, but two."

"I only examined him a few days ago unconscious and believed at that time that he would be suffering from severe headaches and bouts of dizziness when he did wake. All symptoms that this young woman has reported occurring and made worse by a culmination of exacerbating factors that should have been avoided for several more days to a week at least," the doctor continued.

Turning his attention back to the patient, without waiting for further argument from Seline, the doctor went about trying to get his patient to wake. Rawlings noted that the young man was only partially dressed, with a fine sheen of sweat noticeable on brow and chest.

"Can you wake up for me, young man?" the doctor asked, using a softer tone of voice. When a verbal approach didn't invoke the desired result, he used a hand on shake his upper arm. "Come on now, you have been asleep but need to wake now."

The doctor's patience and efforts were rewarded when Joe slowly opened his green eyes, but could see the confusion held within them and the uncertainty of his surroundings as he looked about for something familiar. Panic started to set in as he took stock of the number of strangers in the room, as he used both arms to push himself backwards towards the headboard of the bed.

Bonnie tried to help him and moved the pillows behind his back to help him sit up more. "There is nothing to be alarmed about, this man is a doctor," she told Joe.

She nodded her head affirmatively at the young man as he turned his face towards her, searching to confirm what she was telling him was the truth.

"My name is Doctor Rawlings, young man," he gave in introduction. "How are you feeling?" he asked, choosing to keep his questions simple to begin with.

Joe went to answer, but grasped and scratched at his throat to signify it was parched, gratefully accepting a glass of water, merely sipping at it before handing it back to the woman. She had been expecting him to drink more, but he shook his head in refusal and pushed it back into her hand. He was trying to gain his bearings and put together the pieces of what had transpired, but was coming up a little short on answers. He couldn't even recall how he came to be in this room or how long he had been sleeping in the bed beneath him.

To say it was unnerving to open your eyes and have a group of people watching you was an understatement. Flashes and voices filtered through the pain in his head. Someone had told him that his name was Joseph but he didn't know a last name. He trying to bring up the last thing he remembered, but was missing several hours and his head was throbbing without abatement.

Looking over at the blond woman standing near the top of the bed, he tried to make himself concentrate, squeezing his eyes shut. After a few minutes, he opened them again, still no closer to remembering her name, not that of the rotund man standing at the front of the room. A fleeting scene planted in his mind and he recalled them talking, but not what the subject matter had been. There had been another man present as well, but the location was different to this room. There had been carpet beneath his feet, where as the floor was made up of wooden boards. A circular woven rug covered a small portion of those planks beneath a chest of drawers.

"Fine," Joe finally gave as a one word response as the doctor waited for him to answer. He was unable to hide the wince of pain from the headache that flared when he moved his head.

"Do you know who you are?" the doctor prodded, not intending to leave him in peace.

"No, I don't, I already told that to her before," Joe grouched curtly, instantly regretted raising his voice as the pain spiked through his skull again. He buried his head deeper into the fabric of the pillows and closed his eyes, searching for any kind of respite. A moment later he opened his eyes, "Someone told me that my name is Joe, I don't know any more than that," he gave in a calmer manner, placing his hand over his eyes to shield out the light.

"Your name is Joseph Dubois," Seline stated firmly from across the room, not wanting the shortened version of his first name to spark any memory whatsoever of being a Cartwright.

"I understand your agitation about everything being confusing, Joseph, and your objection and dissatisfaction are duly noted," Rawlings cajoled. "I know that you are suffering from a most painful headache, even though you have not stated so out loud to me."

Joseph lowered his hand, looking back at the doctor expectantly and trusting that someone in the room would be honest with him and would help put his memory right. If this man was a doctor, than perhaps he would give him some medicine for the pain. Even his hair was hurting when he reached around and touched with his fingertips.

The doctor felt a sliver of guilt at the young man's hopeful gaze, "I know you are anxious that you are still experiencing large chunks and lapses in your memory, but let me assure you, that with a head injury like you have sustained, that is perfectly normal. You have to allow yourself time to heal rather than trying to force things to change too rapidly. Otherwise the headaches will continue to plague you endlessly."

Without vocalising the word, he saw the young man mouth the word as a question 'normal?', trying to understand everything that was being said to him.

"Yes, normal," Rawlings repeated, reaching over to pat the top of the boy's hands that were clasped casually together in his lap, but they were quickly jerked away by the boy who wasn't ready to be friends. The gesture was meant as an unspoken apology for the part that he had played so far in this whole nasty scheme. Yes he had been a willing participant at the beginning because of the money being offered. One could say that he was still that now, even with regret beginning to settle into the pit of his stomach.

Rawlings deuced that the majority of the sedative the boy had ingested would have worn off by now, and that Seline would not want his patient knowing that his water had been previously laced. For now he left out that detail as he spoke. Being forewarned about Marchant's use of artificial methods and a tendency to employ under-handed tricks would serve no purpose except to make the young man even more distrustful of food and drink handed to him.

"Some of the symptoms that you reported to me earlier such as disorientation and confusion could be attributed to someone having a head injury," the doctor said to Bonnie, turning his face towards her rather than his patient. "When it comes to meal times, I recommend to do it more often in smaller amounts during the day. The headaches and dizziness will probably not entice his appetite, but as you have previously indicated, he does need to eat in order to improve and gain his strength."

Joe gave an unappreciative noise and a scowl appeared on his face to demonstrate his displeasure to the doctor. All these people talking in the room about him, but not directly to him. Apart from the doctor, he had no idea who they were and no desire to interact with them. Frustration blossomed again as he pushed his body forward on the mattress and laid down on his side, facing the wall with the ever present headache growing and refusing to leave him alone.

Bonnie picked up the glass of water and held it out in offering to him, but Joe showed no interest in drinking the contents, refusing to look at her, instead choosing to close his eyes in avoidance. His current mood was a mixture of being tired and trying to block out what was happening that he didn't understand and was beyond his control. Joe wanted to find a face that he could greet and know the name of that person without being told who they were or what they supposedly meant to him.

"Being obstinate I suspect," the doctor stated to her, seeing the young man was intent on being difficult. "What he is feeling is not all of his own doing. There will be times where sleep is the best medicine that could be prescribed, but I will also leave some more pain powders in your custody. One dose in the morning with his breakfast, and one at night should suffice for the next few days. The powder should be dissolved in water to remove any bitter after-taste and make it more palatable." He retrieved several small satchels of powder from his black bag still resting on the bed-side table and passed them along to the woman.

Rawlings rose from the bed, making one final statement to Joe, knowing he had not drifted off to sleep yet. "Joseph, you will get better and the pain will begin to lessen if you start eating and rest properly. Listen to your own body and do what is needed to take care of yourself."

The doctor walked over to Seline across the room, firstly so that he was out of earshot from his reluctant patient, and secondly, not wanting to give the man who had summoned him any opportunity to renegotiate or dictate terms. "If you are not going to adhere to my basic instructions, then I see no need for our professional relationship to continue," he said sternly. "I have other patients to see across this city who do require my expertise. If you want to keep this young man alive for now as you say, then I suggest you had better start listening to what I have already instructed."

Seline's face was quickly turning purple with anger at how the doctor was speaking to him like some errant child or lowly educated servant. His temper was at an all time high, and if he had been wearing the small derringer pistol he owned inside his waistcoat, then he may have made the doctor rethink some of his choice words.

"You will receive my account by the end of the day that is due," Rawlings commented, placing his hat on his head and walking out onto the deck outside the room. "Good day, I do not expect to be called upon again."

"I will be damned if I allow you to set foot on this vessel for another moment, you conniving, over-rated quack!" Seline spluttered with rage, following the physician with heavy footsteps, but only finding his voice after the man reached the gang plank. When the doctor's account came to be paid, he would take great pleasure it tearing into tiny shreds.

Seline walked purposefully back into the room in a huff, almost letting his anger out on the door.

In the short time that he was out of the room, Bonnie had gone about what she had been instructed to do, take care of Joe. She had been partially listening to the heated conversation between the doctor and her boss. She couldn't be sure how much the young man had heard, but suspected some of the threatening words, not everything.

By the time the doctor had exited the room, the boy had fallen into a light doze, his stubbornness short-lived, and fatigue settling in. Without waiting for his permission, she adjusted the covers on the bed, watching his steely expression change. A few seconds more saw his facial features relax further with him drifting closer to sleep whether he wanted to or not.

Seline abruptly stood in the doorway, smarting from the choice accusations the doctor had thrown in his face. "Do whatever you have already been doing to get Cartwright back on his feet," he ordered, taking the cigar out of his mouth. For a moment he had forgotten his own rule about speaking the boy's correct name out loud, "I am not going to have Marie's wretched offspring coddled like some baby."

"I doubt he heard anything you said," Bonnie stated, her tone having a sharper edge to it. "He has fallen asleep, and will probably remain so for a while. When he does wake, I will offer him food and encourage him to eat." She silently reminded herself to hold her tongue better, not wanting to redirect and incur the man's anger at the doctor.

Seline chose to ignore the way she had spoken, instead wanting the woman's co-operation, and to emphasis and impress on her how rapidly things were going to change on-board.

"By tomorrow he should be much more improved, despite what that pompous, self-absorbed doctor believes. If the boy is still having those headaches, then I don't want him wandering around on the boat on his own. I have plans to include him more here amongst my men and deliberately sow a few new seeds about his background. I want to reinforce what he gets told about the nightly gambling activities that go on around here."

"From tomorrow morning everything is going to get a whole lot busier around here, including many people coming and going to take care of preparations for the opening night in a couple of days. There will be cooks, waiters, decorators, carpenters and a lot of cargo being brought aboard to be stored. There will also be other men carrying out other instructions as I give them. Don't let any of that distract you from your duties here, I want the boy kept out of sight as much as possible unless I sent for him. Edwards and Yeager will be in charge of security."

Bonnie nodded her head to signify that she understood what he expected of her. The man turned his back on her, exchanging a few words with Edwards and Yeager on the deck, before leaving the area entirely.

A sense of foreboding began to grow and knot in her own stomach about what lay ahead during the next few days.

---

Back at the hospital:

Ben Cartwright had closed the door to the parlor moments ago, and was lost in his own thoughts, only to be greeted by someone at the top of the staircase. The middle-aged, dark-haired woman was startled to come across another person on the second floor.

"Oh my stars!" the woman uttered in total surprise. "Good morning, I apologise for my lack of decorum and appearing to be jumping at shadows. I heard the door close and thought my mind was playing tricks on me," she gave with a brief laugh which was quickly replaced with a warm smile.

"Good morning. Please forgive me, I did not wish to cause you alarm," Ben greeted her with still holding his hat in one hand and politely extending the other courteously.

"That is quite alright, but I am afraid that I must insist that you tell me who you are," the woman spoke in return. "My name is Gertrude Russell, and I am the Matron of this hospital. I did not see you enter through the front door downstairs and nobody is allowed to be up here. The ground floor of this building has been temporarily designated as a hospital, but the upper floors are deemed to be private property. The owner has yet to give permission for the rooms above the main floor to be used in any capacity for patients or doctors."

"My name is Ben Cartwright, and I come here from many miles away in Nevada territory. I have a good parcel of land situated on the outskirts of Virginia City called the Ponderosa. Together with my three sons, a lot of hard work with our backs and bare hands, we raise cattle, harvest timber for the silver mines plus carry on a number of other profitable ventures."

"You certainly have come such a long way, Mister Cartwright," Gertrude remarked. "I wager that day to day life where you come from is very different from what you observe outside in the streets of New Orleans." The nurse was able to detect a strong sense of pride in his voice as the man spoke of where he came from and what his family had been able to achieve.

Ben gave a small chuckle of his own, "Yes, I cannot deny that at all. Not too bad for someone who started out as a mere cabin boy aboard a clipper ship. Upon my last visit to your city, this grand home was in the possession of a very good friend of mine, René Angerville. My late wife, Marie De Marigny, stayed here for quite some time until we were married and she moved with me."

"The first name you mentioned, Monsieur Angerville, I have heard before today," the nurse commented. "The current owner, a Mister Ezekiel Thomas, purchased this building as part of an estate, but I am not familiar with all of the details. I have only met the gentleman on one occasion when the doctor was appointed here. I am sorry that I do not recognize your wife's name at all."

"That is quite alright, Mister Thomas is someone that I have not heard about or met before," Ben replied, "I wasn't aware until this morning that the building had been purchased by another party at all. After my wife passed away, I tried to use work on the ranch and taking care of my boys to cope with her loss. I had intended to keep in touch with my good friend, but unfortunately that did not eventuate either."

"I am not sure if you remember, but in that room that I came out of, a painting used to hang above the fireplace," Ben told her, his voice filling with a touch of emotion. "That was previously used as a drawing room, and at various times where Marie would play music on the piano."

"I do remember a painting hanging there in the room, there was a horse in the background beside a young lady," the nurse stated. "Mister Thomas had some of the more valuable chattels, pieces of furniture and rich tapestries packed away and store carefully in another part of the building to avoid them becoming damaged. You would have noticed of course that some of the furniture has only been covered to protect it rather than move them."

"Yes, I did notice," Ben answered with his voice taking. "The young woman in that portrait was Marie, with one of her favourite horse's. That room holds some wonderful memories for me, and she spent more time in there than any other part of the house. I can recall the furnishings in there, just as they were. I guess for a moment when I walked there, I became lost and entangled in the nostalgia."

The nurse could see that the man had been searching for some kind of lost connection by coming here this morning, and she could see the grief in his eyes as he spoke his wife's name. "I hope you are not too disappointed to come all this way, only to see empty rooms or gaze upon a grand painting?"

"Unfortunately it is neither good times or nostalgia that is the purpose of my journey," Ben elaborated. "My two eldest sons and I arrived on the train only this morning from San Francisco, but after we parted company, my feet directed me here."

"You mentioned a few moments ago that you had three sons?" Matron Russell recounted, making sure that she had not misheard how many children the man had. "Did your youngest son choose to miss the journey and stay behind at your ranch in Nevada?"

"Yes, I did," Ben went on to explain but his tone of voice turning more serious. "My sons, Adam and Hoss accompanied me on the train. Marie was the mother of my youngest son, Joseph, who is barely nineteen years of age. I strongly believe that Joe has been kidnapped and brought here to this city from San Francisco against his will and under false pretences. We have received information from an unknown source that he is being held somewhere as a prisoner. He was taken more than a week ago, and my sons and I have been following behind as quickly as we can to try and rescue him.

"That is dreadful news, Mister Cartwright," Gertrude gasped out loud. "Who would do such a cowardly and dastardly thing to steal your son away from you? Such a young man too. You must be beside yourself with worry about what has happened to him. I sincerely hope he has not been hurt and you are able to find him quickly. Have you gone to the police?"

"Thank you for your concern, news has been received by us at various stages that he has indeed been hurt, and that the person responsible means to do him greater harm to get back at me for grievances that go back a long way," the silver-haired man gave in reply. "From what we have been able to discover, that has been his intention all along. By taking Joseph away from his brothers and his home, he knows that he is causing me great anguish. I will do almost anything to see my boy returned to me safely, even though the risk to my own life is high."

"In San Francisco, we were fortunate enough to have the assistance of the police as soon as we reported Joseph missing. There were a few clues that emerged, but alas they only brought up more questions than answers," Ben explained. "We do know that the services of a doctor were employed before my son was smuggled out of the city. Unfortunately we don't know the full extent of his involvement, or what treatment was performed, as that man met with a grisly demise at the hand of Joe's kidnapper."

The nurse's hands came up to her mouth in shock as she attempted to stifled the gasp of shock at such a statement.

At some point Ben realised that he had given away and openly shared quite a lot of details about where he had come from, his boys, and even the current situation and circumstances surrounding Joe's kidnapping. Normally he wouldn't have been one to share such private information about his family, especially when the authorities were about to become involved. He had let his guard down in a place that held a mixture of memories, and allowed his own emotions to come to the surface. Perhaps it was this lady's warm personality on this particular morning, where he found a woman with a caring nature and willingness to listen, that had made him speak so freely.

"Going to the police here in New Orleans will be my next step once we have acquired some suitable accommodations during our stay," Ben continued. "That is where I sent my two sons after leaving the railway station. I want to set up a comfortable place to bring Joe back to once he has been rescued."

"Being a city of mixed cultures, it may be that we will need the services of someone who is able to speak and understand the French language. Marie did try and teach me after we were married, and my eldest son, Adam, can speak a few phrases very well. But that may not be enough on this occasion when the stakes involve a person's life. We will also require people who are more familiar with the back streets and other sordid places in this city where someone may be inclined to keep a prisoner."

"Time is quickly running out for my son, and I do fear greatly for his safety," Ben told the woman, as he took a step closer towards the stairs, realising that he needed to leave. "This may sound strange or even superstitious, and is perhaps no more than a foolish notion, but I have prayed to Marie a couple of times during our rushed travel. By coming here this morning, a small part of me was hoping that her spirit would help guide our endeavours to find Joseph."

The woman's eyes softened and she put a comforting hand on his forearm, "As a nurse, I am usually a very practical person when it comes to treating people and nursing them back to health. During my years of training and taking care of people, I have also seen a lot of strange things. Some that have occurred but cannot be explained, or others that would sound implausible to those claiming to be of sound mind. Do you know what I have learned the most in all the time that I have lived in New Orleans?"

"Tell me please?" he requested, knowing that the words she wanted to impart on him were important.

The woman took another breath, pleased to see that the man was listening to her words. "Kindness and compassion cost absolutely nothing, but are not in abundance like they once were. The demand for them grows even higher when it comes to our families and people that we care about. This city has her secrets, Mister Cartwright, there is no denying that. There is a soul and a heartbeat that are all her own. Extraordinary things and miracles can happen around here everyday when you least expect them."

"Thank you for understanding," Ben said with genuine gratitude. "Joseph was very small when his mother died and he misses her terribly. A hole was left in all our hearts. Most of the time my son tries to keep his pain hidden and his memories of her private. Those feelings about his mother are very strong, even in relation to things she owned that are now carefully stored away."

"I can see that you have a great love for your son and shoulder the responsibility of wanting to protect him. When it comes to a mother's love; that stays forever. Nothing can ever break that bond between a mother and her child, even unto death. Keep a whole lot of hope and faith alongside of you, and I know you will find him."

"When he has been rescued and you have spent time together, please bring him here to see this place before you leave to go back home. I am sure that knowing she lived here for a time will bring him a great comfort, even if it is his first time," the nurse suggested.

"Thank you, I certainly will," Ben promised. "Adam and Hoss would be pleased to come and see this place too, once their brother has been found. Please allow me to escort you back downstairs," he requested, holding out his arm as any gentleman should for a lady.

Nurse Russell gratefully accepted the offer, knowing that this man was a cut above some of the men she had encountered before. Manners, courtesy and well spoken; all traits that were becoming less noticeable in recent years. The Matron found her own curiosity about this family from Nevada growing.

---

As they made their way down the polished wooden steps, the conversation turned more casual. The whole place was eerily quiet considering the time of day.

"Forgive my questioning of your duties in a small hospital such as this, but are you the only nursing staff employed here?" Ben asked.

"Yes, for the moment," the matron answered without hesitation. "There is only one doctor and myself, although that may not be the case for much longer. The man appointed to the position is hoping to gain employment at the larger hospital, St Mercy. It is situated a lot closer to the city centre and is currently undergoing major expansion and renovations."

"Some days I would dearly love some assistance around here as there is usually more work to do than two pair of hands can accommodate," Nurse Russell admitted. "I am not getting any younger in years myself, and I don't know what would happen to the people who do rely on being able to come here. I wish I could pass along my experience to someone else younger like some generous nursing staff did for me when I first started."

"I do think the owner, Mr Thomas was hoping to create a clinic here that would cater to a different class of people. Those who perhaps don't have the means to spend on a doctor for themselves or their children," Gertrude commented. "The people in this area of the city work hard, but to others are seen as having the wrong colour skin or judged because they come from a poor background. Those things shouldn't matter when it comes to wanting to be well or see your children live a healthy life."

Ben nodded his head in acknowledgement at her words, seeing that she truly cared about caring for people, not just about whether they could afford to pay for a doctor or not. "The problems about people's skin colour and different cultural background don't just occur here, but perhaps are noticed more with a larger population. We have some of the same troubles in Virginia City with the Chinese workers who have arrived in town. There are quite a few Indian tribes who try and maintain their traditions in many patches across the territory. There are many people of different races who are looking for work and travel to Nevada to seek their fortunes in the mines."

By the time Ben and the Matron reached the bottom steps, any conversation between them was interrupted by the opening of the front door to the building. The figure of a tall thin man entered, removing his hat and carrying it alongside the small black medical bag in his right hand.

"Good morning, Doctor," Nurse Russell greeted him respectfully, but became worried about his outer appearance and slow gait. "My, you do look worn out. I was expecting to see you last night. I hope everything is alright?"

The Doctor held out his black bag for her to take, "Morning, Matron. I am afraid I have not had a chance yet to survey the contents inside to establish what items need replenishing."

"Oh there is no need for you to worry about that," Gertrude responded. "Things have been fairly quiet around here since noon yesterday, and I have a few hours spare hours on my hands this afternoon. I will attend to taking stock of what needs to be replaced."

The Doctor gave her a tired, small smile of appreciation, "What would I do without you looking after me, Gertrude?" he asked warmly, foregoing all protocols of how they should be addressing each other in the presence of other people.

The nurse returned the smile and a laugh with him using her first name rather than her title, knowing that it would be frowned upon in larger hospitals. Here in this smaller place where the two of them often worked side by side, she didn't mind at all.

"You will be pleased to know that mother and child have both survived admirably, but it wasn't until the early hours of this morning that I could be more certain about that outcome," Rawlings informed her. "Whilst I was there, I was told that I was needed by another patient, which is where I have just come from now. I am sorry I was gone a long time without getting word to you."

"That is very pleasing to hear, you did mention that Mrs Simpson may have a difficult birth," the Matron commented. "There have only been a few people come here with minor ailments during your absence. I was able to successfully treat them and send them home again."

Ben had been patiently standing by this whole time during the exchange between doctor and nurse. Gertrude glanced briefly in his direction after seeing the curious look on the doctor's face at the stranger.

"Heavens, would you both please forgive my oversight. Mister Ben Cartwright, this is Doctor Hector Rawlings, the appointed physician," the woman introduced, embarrassed that she had not done so promptly.

"Good Morning, Doctor," Ben greeted the man, extending his hand. "I don't plan to take up your valuable time."

"Morning, Mister Cartwright, pleased to make your acquaintance," Rawlings returned, completing the handshake, impressed by the strength and confidence of the man before him. "What business brings you here today? Mister Cartwright did you say?" repeating the man's surname so that he wasn't mistaken.

Nurse Russell spoke before Ben could offer his own reply. "Ben Cartwright has come here all the way from Nevada territory with two of his sons. This building holds special meaning to him and his family and he wished to see it again. He was hoping for permission to show some of the rooms to his youngest son, Joseph." The Matron thought it prudent to leave out details of the young man's disappearance and that he was still currently missing.

Both names certainly drew the doctor's attention, and after coming from the paddle-steam boat only a short time ago, he could only wonder if there was any correlation. He didn't alter the expression on his face, but could see resoluteness starting back at him through brown eyes. The first name given of Joseph certainly piqued his interest. He had not told the Matron the name of the second patient that he had finished treating after Mrs Simpson, nor his whereabouts.

Rawlings knew that Marchant had concocted a false story for the boy's background and that included changing his surname. Although he didn't know the full purpose of Seline's rouse, instinct told him that the scoundrel was intending to use the young man's memory loss to his own advantage. But the man had also slipped up and called out the boy's real name as he was leaving.

"Why is your son not here with you if you are wanting to show him around?" the doctor asked, noting that the man seemed to be here on his own. "I have no objections to giving the permission you seek, but I will leave you in Matron's capable hands. Please excuse my rudeness, I have been tending to a mother and child for the past twenty four hours. I need to get some sleep before I attend to my other patients."

"That is quite alright, Doctor," Ben answered, but didn't elaborate further about why Joe wasn't accompanying him. "Thank you for your generosity, I understand you have a busy schedule to keep and people counting on you. Rest well."

Nurse Russell frowned a little, thinking that Doctor Rawlings was acting a little odd, if not peculiar and quite out of character today, even though there were tell-tale signs of fatigue on his face and in his posture.

The doctor began to slowly climb the staircase towards his personal quarters, not wanting to give himself away about having vital information pertaining to the man's son. He was able to overhear the few final words they were exchanging.

"Please forgive his manner this morning, Mister Cartwright, he does some good work here, but sometimes forgets that people in his demanding position also need to take care of themselves," Gertrude shared.

"There is no need to apologise, Matron," Ben assured her, politely kissing her hand, getting ready to say goodbye and depart the premises. "I am sure he is a busy man, and he does provide an important service to the people here."

"I pray that you will find your son very soon," she offered, giving his hand a small squeeze in friendly comfort. "You, Joseph and your other two sons will be most welcome back here for a visit at any time. I should like to meet all of your family once you are all reunited."

"I promise that I will return when Joseph is located safe and sound and before we leave this city for home," Ben pledged. "Thank you for all your kindness this morning, I fear I have already taken up too much of your valuable time."

"Nonsense, Mister Cartwright, talking to you today has been a delight and taken away the boredom from what would have been a mundane day of chores," she replied with a smile. "We will meet again."

Continuing his way to the stop of the stairs out of sight, Rawlings couldn't help but think to himself that Seline may be in for a bit of a shock to learn that the boy's family had not given up hope in finding him yet. From what he had observed first-hand, they were actively searching for him and any clues that would pertain to his whereabouts. The father he had met seemed to be focused on finding his son, and didn't appear to be a man who would be easily diverted from that task.

---

After leaving the railway station and watching their father walk in the opposite direction, the two Cartwright brothers continued on foot in a westerly direction. Their intentions were to find suitable lodgings that would accommodate all of them, even Joe once he was found. Once that matter had been settled, a livery stable was the next place on their short list to find, where they could rent some horses for the duration of their stay in the city.

"How far do we have to walk, Adam?" Hoss asked. The distance wasn't a problem, but the larger man couldn't help but feel awkward and out of place.

"A few city sized blocks at least, Hoss, but don't worry, I already have one place in mind," Adam answered cryptically. He had noted his siblings unease and knew it was the reason behind the question.

"You do? That would be great, Adam," Hoss replied with a grin, putting his complete trust in his brother's knowledge of being able to navigate these busy streets much better. He couldn't deny that he found himself in very unfamiliar surroundings. The crowds of people began to swell with larger numbers than he could have ever contemplated.

In addition to the people, there were dozens of horse drawn carriages and wagons. Buckboards and single horse-drawn buggys, all attempting to criss-cross the main street intersection at the same time. Anybody watching the confusion and chaos long enough was liable to get dizzy Hoss silently told himself.

"I guessed it would be different when we got here from the train, but I don't think I expected it to be quite like this," Hoss mentioned to his brother.

"Enjoy the city, Hoss, don't let the faceless crowds detract from the grandeur," Adam commented. "There is a lot to take in on someone's first visit. With a little patience, after awhile, the noise of the crowds fades into the background and the people fade into the distance. What you are left with is a place that has a long history, where there is something new to discover at every street corner. Where the architecture of each building has a different story to tell."

Turning the corner, Adam wanted to alleviate his brother's misgivings by explaining where they were. "Hoss, this is Canal Street, one of the main thoroughfares or artery of this city. That rather large white building you can see on the left-hand side in front of us, is the St Charles Hotel. That is our first point of call to find somewhere to stay tonight."

Hoss looked at where Adam was pointing, but wasn't convinced about the choice. "You mean to tell me that we are going in there to ask if they have a room to rent?" His mind began to over-think what kind of price they could be expected to pay, but one could assume that there was a bank in this city when they needed to withdraw sufficient funds. Leaving the Ponderosa as quickly as they did, Pa had more important things on his mind than procuring additional money.

"A place like that would have more than rooms," Adam responded. "They will have elegant chambers and adjoining suites on more than one floor, and probably more than one rising room so that we won't have to walk up so many stairs. More than enough space for all of us."

"A rising room?" Hoss asked, adjusting the collar of his shirt to mask his nervousness. He didn't like the idea of those things, and had only experienced one of them in San Francisco. Oddly enough, that was an earlier occasion when Joe had become separated from his family and lost in different city. His brother had been quite a bit younger at only nine years old on that particular escapade.

"Somehow, I think I would prefer to climb those stairs with my own two feet," Hoss stated firmly, pulling his hat down on his head for emphasis.

"Let's get there and see what they can offer first," Adam suggested, noting that Hoss was almost ready to plant his feet obstinately in the middle of the street and not move any closer. "We need to find somewhere to stay for Pa. You can plainly see for yourself that he hasn't exactly been sleeping well since we started this journey from Virginia City. When we do find Joe, I think it is fair to assume that he may be looking for a nice, soft place to lay his head down and sleep for a day or two."

Adam knew he was goading Hoss forward with a little guilt, but he was trying to use just the right amount of incentive without over doing it. He was counting on inducing a little more co-operation by mentioning their need to take care of Joe and their father. Hoss had rarely been able to deny his baby brother anything, especially when he was hurt or needed someone fighting in his corner. The tiredness that both had seen on their father's drawn features was already making them want to shoulder more of the burden and responsibility of finding Little Joe.

The eldest Cartwright brother was mindful though and knew that he would need to keep an eye on this younger sibling too, for completely different reasons. Hoss' apprehension was unexpected, but valid and understandable. They needed to work together at the moment towards a common and positive outcome. Both of them needed to maintain a clear head and have their wits about them until they could learn more clues as to Joe's whereabouts.

Coming to stand in front of the large hotel building, one couldn't deny its impressive size and expanse. The huge Corinthian white marble columns rose to great heights from the street level up to the roof, six in total and a very imposing facade.

"Quite the place wouldn't you say?" Adam remarked as he stood behind his brother's beefy left shoulder, watching Hoss' gaze up and down at the marble colossus.

"I reckon it might be to some folks," Hoss agreed, but the feeling of being out of place had only quadrupled. He didn't want bring into question Adam's usually reliable judgement, and therefore kept any comments to himself.

The two brothers moved out of the direct path of people who were disembarking from various forms of transport with the assistance of valets. No doubt their sole duty was to formerly greet the passengers and potential customers as they arrived, before ushering them along the fine rich carpet that lead up to the marbled steps of the front entrance. Each one of them was smartly dressed in fancy navy suits, featuring gold brocade on the fitted jackets and tailored pants. The professional uniforms were completed with top hats worn on their heads and polished black shoes on their feet.

Another set of uniformed footmen were unloading large numbers of baggage consisting of suitcases, carpetbags, heavy chests and trunks. These luggage items would then be packed on ornately decorated brass trolleys or carried inside before then being delivered to the bellhops and interior hotel staff. The scene playing out before them was like a pantomime where each person was a character on stage in a performance. Except this was a normal day in a city the size of New Orleans, with the customers dressed in their finest, out on public display.

The comings and goings of the various buggy's, horse-drawn vehicles and an ever growing number of pedestrians was even more chaotic here then it had been outside the railway station. Some people appeared to have no patience at all and were clambering loudly to gain the attention of the hotel staff over the top of other citizens. A dozen conversations or more could be heard happening all at once with pushing, shoving, and demanding unrealistic expectations, seemingly the order of the day.

"Don't worry, Hoss, this is not much different to nights back at home in the Bucket O' Blood saloon when the miners get paid, or the days following a long round up with the ranch hands," Adam appeased, seeing that Hoss was less than impressed with some of the behaviour. These folks would be the first to call themselves civilised, but to him a whole lot of common sense and waiting graciously in turn was sorely lacking today.

Adam thought the best way to counteract the frown on his brother's face was to provide him with a little history of the hotel that he had learned through a number of sources.

"The original place was built in 1837, but was destroyed by fire less than ten years ago in January 1851. There was a huge matching dome turret on the roof in the original building, but they didn't put it back in the design this time around," Adam explained. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hoss was facing him and starting to listen, so he continued.

A split second later, Hoss' attention was momentarily distracted by a team of horses pulling in not too far away, churning up dust and debris. The driver was calling out instructions to a number of the hotel staff in a gruff tone of voice, but they were yelling back about his disregard for public safety of other people standing nearby and getting showered by plumes of choking dust.

"Do you know how much it cost to complete the renovations afterwards?" Adam queried patiently. His efforts were rewarded with Hoss turning back to hear his question, waiting for the answer. His brother knew all about building and architecture.

"Over eight hundred thousand dollars," Adam recited slowly so that the size of hefty sum could sink in. "Almost a million dollars. The first build wasn't much cheaper either."

Hoss scoffed at the large number his brother had quoted, trying to figure out in his mind how many zeroes that acquainted to, "Who has access to that kind of money? I can't even fathom anybody being able to amass that much wealth, Adam."

"Let's hope with that amount of money involved, this second version lasts much longer," Adam remarked. "Come on, we have standing around here too long now. Time to climb those stairs and approach the reception desk," he encouraged.

The two brothers made their way to the bottom of the exterior marble staircase, a number of the staff greeting them politely with "Good Morning, Sir" as they went about their duties.

"Never been called "Sir" so many times on one day in my entire life," Hoss declared. Adam had a small grin on his face as his brother's discomfort at being addressed in such a formal manner. He decided to add a few more trivial facts about the hotel as they climbed up towards the entrance.

"This place is reported to have over four hundred rooms across a number of floors. Enough space for between six hundred and seven hundred guests at any one time," Adam filled in. "Thirty parlour rooms alone, and at least one hundred individual bathrooms. I think you will agree with me about the grand scale that everything seems to be done by. There is no mistaking it's presence compared to all the other building on either side of the street."

Hoss didn't know how to respond to such outlandish and bold claims of luxury and decadence. He had never heard of that many people staying in one building at one time. And one hundred bathrooms? Surely that was an over-exaggeration or pure estimation.

As the reached the top of the flight of stairs, Hoss repeated his earlier question, "This is still where you are thinking we want to stay?"

"Sure, we will approach the Concierge and ask if they have any rooms suitable for us," Adam replied. "We don't need the real fancy ones. Something comfortable for all four of us for a few days. Visitors to this city come to this particular hotel from far and wide, and sometimes a booking is required beforehand."

Hoss looked down at the travel clothes he was wearing, then looked about at the gentlemen and ladies who were bustling about nearby. Although he felt dressed up by wearing more than his usual work clothes, he couldn't help but compare his wardrobe as they continued to pass by. He felt very inadequate and odd, even more so with his gunbelt not strapped around his waist.

Adam had walked a little further in front and had yet to notice that he was on his own when approaching the lobby. Hoss decided to stay where he was and try not to get in anybody's way. His brother would be better at enquiring and gaining a room anyhow.

The outside facade had been impressive, but that grandeur was certainly carried on inside as well. The marble polished floors inlaid with coloured tiles that formed intricate and elaborate patterns. Even the very columns had been replicated, with a series of them standing proudly and spaced evenly throughout the vast expansive interior. The building was certainly much bigger than any place Hoss had been in before anywhere.

By merely turning his head in any direction, his gaze was drawn to an array of polished wooden panels, brass and copper ornate fixtures and fittings. The ceilings were accented by gargantuan chandeliers that bathed everything with the right amount of lighting and add significantly to the richness of the décor. Adam would have used his knowledge of poetic words to describe the hotel as having an avant-garde flavour. To Hoss, elegant and luxurious were the two words that came to mind.

From this vantage point, Hoss couldn't see everything inside the hotel, including the proposed rising rooms that Adam had hinted at earlier. There were other features to note though, such as uniquely carved and sweeping staircases that probably lead up to the upper floors. He suspected there was even more to see with wonderment if he wanted to venture further inside. A piano could be heard playing a soft melody of music in the background.

The windows were covered and draped in curtains made from heavy, plush patterned fabrics. Tapestries and paintings covered nearly every inch of the walls, along with statues and sculptures displayed on evenly spaced marble pedestals. Large vessels containing leafy green plants were scattered about, some of them even covered with delicately scented flowers.

From where he was standing, a second large room was partitioned off with coloured stained-glass windows, and a matching door on the front. Inside there were chairs, and round tables set with fancy tablecloths, white china plates, silver cutlery and fine glassware; all laid out and ready for service. The restaurant or dining room he surmised, not realising that there was more than one belonging to the hotel, each catering differently to the guests.

Hoss stomach growled hungrily, reminding him that he had not eaten since getting off the train and it was almost eleven o'clock in the morning. Maybe he could wait and see what they brought out from the kitchen for lunch.

---

Some distance away at reception, Adam was standing, waiting politely to approach the staff at the front desk to make his availability enquiry. He had noticed a curious look from a number of the gentlemen present at his attire, but chose not to engage with them. He tipped his hat at a couple of the ladies, greeting them with 'good morning' in his deep baritone voice, receiving prompt and courteous replies with shy smiles from behind gloved hands.

Once the crowd had begun thinning out, a tall gentleman gestured for Adam to come closer towards the oak reception desk, "Good morning, Sir, how may I be of service to you today?"

Adam removed his black hat, "Good morning, my name is Adam Cartwright. My brother and I would like to make enquiries about a room that may have that would be adequate for four adult men to stay...," he started to explain, but halted half-way through as he saw the man looking dubiously on either side and behind him.

"Your brother?" the man with a shock of red hair queried, seeing only a single person standing before him. 'At times the strangest of guests passed through the halls of this hotel' he thought to himself.

Adam turned and now understood why the man had briefly given him a strange look. At some point, Hoss had decided to stop and not follow. "Please excuse me for a moment." Walking away from the reception desk, he realised that the hand of fate had stepped in and made this decision, not only Hoss. They may need to make other arrangements of where to stay if his brother felt so uncomfortable.

Casually leaning against a marble column support for the downstairs restaurant, Hoss watched a small man with a blond moustache, carry a decorative black wrought iron easel. He proceeded to stand the ornate framework off to one side of the double mahogany wooden doors, making a few minute adjustments until he was completely satisfied with its final position. He was wearing a uniform similar to the valet's outside, but with a different colour and wider collar adorning the front of the jacket. Despite his lack of stature, it was obvious he took his job very seriously. On the stand, the man carefully placed a crisp white sheet of card with black elegant print on it.

'A menu' Hoss thought with a small amount of delight. Perhaps the journey here would not turn out so awkwardly after all. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of taking a step towards the easel before the man had walked away completely. Finding himself under an unwelcome glare of rebuke and receiving a sharply toned admonishment.

"Monsieur, s'il vous plaît retirez votre chapeau," the hotel employee requested.

Hoss had not understood a single word the man had said to him; the words coming out garbled and not even sounding like they were in English to him.

"Listen little fella, I don't know what you said to me just now...," he began to reply but trying to be co-operative and not wanting to cause a scene. Hoss halted when the man attempted to step away from him, but still giving a fresh look of disapproval for good measure.

Adam had heard and understood the complaint, coming up silently behind his brother, and with one swift movement of his hand, corrected the problem. Even before Hoss had the chance to ask the man to repeat what he wanted.

"Sir, please remove your hat," Adam translated for his brother. "Though in your defence, he was speaking French."

"Oh, sorry, I plum forgot," Hoss apologised with abashment, accepting the return of his hat and holding it by the brim in his hand. He was used to taking if off back in Virginia City whenever he went indoors, but his attention this morning had been drawn elsewhere upon entering this establishment.

With the offending head-wear successfully removed to his satisfaction, the small man had disappeared back to his duties elsewhere in the hotel without saying another word.

"I thought you were going to follow me to the reception desk?" Adam chastised lightly. "I looked a little foolish standing back there on my own, after introducing myself and mentioning that I was travelling with a brother."

"Dang it! Sorry about that, Adam," Hoss voiced, looking down at his hat, not quite knowing how else to explain why he had felt the need to stay behind. His facial expression changed to one of feeling guilty and being suitably chastised.

Astutely Adam could see the reason for himself, "For the record, after giving the matter enough due consideration, I don't think this place is really for us to stay here either," he remarked. He was pleased to see his comment bring a smile to his brother's face.

"You don't ?" Hoss questioned, but grateful that his brother had a complete change of heart. "Where are we going find somewhere for us to stay tonight then?"

"Oh, I am sure we can find somewhere," Adam replied reassuringly, noting that a shred of guilt was beginning to overshadow Hoss' brief moment of elation at needing to change their plans.

"I was about to take a look at that piece of paper the little guy left there," Hoss admitted. Upon closer inspection of the writing though, his facial expression changed as embarrassment set in about not being able to read a single word.

"Don't feel bad, Hoss, with such a large French connection to this city, the dishes were bound to be printed in that language," Adam surmised. "Do you want me to translate them for you?"

"If you don't mind," Hoss agreed, feeling like a heel and having to rely on his brother's knowledge too much already today. "I was beginning to feel a little peckish is all," he mumbled.

"Well let's see what they are having then," Adam obliged, knowing that time was getting away from them. There were still a few tasks they needed to accomplish this morning before meeting their father at the designated rendezvous. None of them had eaten yet and missing meals was probably the one of those few times that Hoss was known for being more vocal.

Reading down the menu for himself, Adam turned to his brother with an apologetic expression on his face, "I think you are going to be disappointed with their selection they are offering today, Hoss."

"They are having food aren't they?" Hoss challenged, "Even the folks around here gotta eat sometime."

Adam could see that the wasn't going to be able to sway his brother easily, so he decided on the direct approach. Standing in front of the ornate framed stand and bending over to account for the height difference, he began to read from the very top of the menu. As he went, he gave the French name of the dish, followed by a description of the food in English.

Cuisses de Grenouille – Frogs Legs, lightly fried in clarified butter, and served with a creamy sauce.

Hoss' grip on his hat increased dramatically and his mouth gaped open as he tried to grapple with a very different cuisine than what he was used to eating at the Ponderosa.

'Who ever heard of eating a frog? Can't be much meat on them little critters to begin with'

Adam hid a wry grin at the look on his brother's face. Unfortunately he could see that the next few dishes were not going to appeal to him any better.

Escargot – Snails, gently sautéd in a delicately flavoured herb butter and garlic reduction.

'Snails! They could usually be found in Hop Sing's gardens, ruining the cabbages. Never once in his whole life did he think of cooking and eating one.

Hoss was starting to get annoyed by his brother's antics and was convinced that he was being made fun of, "Stop deliberately making stuff up, Adam!"

"I promise you that I am reading direct from the menu," Adam answered truthfully, but as he took a look at the next menu item, this time couldn't scarcely hold back his laughter and knew that Hoss was not going to be impressed with the next dish.

Ox Tripe Provencale –Tripe with fettuccine, served with steamed potatoes and garnished with parsley.

Adam was sure that his brother's face was several shades paler, as Hoss closed his mouth and swallowed nervously.

Being from a cattle raising family, he certainly knew what tripe was, and it was one of those foods that he refused to eat. "What is fetta..., that other word you said?"

"Pasta," Adam replied helpfully. "An Italian staple. Quite tasty, but it may not have been served in any establishment where you have dined before."

"Adam, if you don't start reading that thing right, I am going to throwing up the lunch I haven't even eaten yet," Hoss whispered with grave warning. He could feel his stomach rolling at the very thought of any of those dishes on the menu.

Un Plateaude de Fromages – A platter of the finest selection of cheeses available from the local area. Served with a suggested wine.

"Cheese?" Hoss mouthed with dismay and disdain. A dislike for one particular food item that was a well kept secret in the Cartwright family.

"Isn't there anything normal to eat in this city?" Hoss grouched, revolted by the offerings on the menu. Right now I could eat a whole half a steer on my own and still have room for dessert. I ain't had a bite since supper last night and I am famished, but I am not eating one dang thing of any plate in this place when I can't read or say it's name."

"Come on Adam, we have to find a real place to stay, where you don't have to use the whole alphabet to spell out your supper. Joe probably wouldn't eat half of that stuff spelled out on that piece of paper any more than me. I doubt they are feeding him right anyhow so he must be right hungry by now."

Hoss turned away from the restaurant and started walking purposefully towards the cavernous front entrance. He had heard enough, but felt a hand on the back of his shirt. Adam waited until he had stopped walking and was willing to turn around and face him before speaking.

"Once we find a good place to stay, I will make sure to find something to eat that will appeal more to your appetite," Adam assured him. "You are right, we have to find somewhere to stay, meet up with Pa. Then we can focus and double our efforts on finding Joe. Time is quickly getting away from us this morning."

Adam decided to share some casual conversation to take his brother's mind off his empty stomach, knowing that he was worried about their younger sibling. They all were and that was the reason the subject quickly turned back to Joe.

"Pa might be able to afford to stay at this fancy place, but I don't reckon he would feel right about doing that any more than me," Hoss asserted. "Joe wouldn't like to stay in a place like this either too long."

Adam pondered that statement for a moment, "Oh, I don't know, I am sure at first our baby brother would be happy to be taken in by the luxuriousness that we have seen for ourselves today. Do you remember how he reacted to the private guests rooms that we were allocated at the Governor's estate in Texas?"

"Yeah," Hoss remembered with a fond grin. "He was jumping around on those feather mattresses that first night like he had never slept on one so soft before. That was ten years ago though and he was a little tyke back then. Joe has stayed in some much rougher places since then; even been forced to sleep on the floor without any bed or blankets."

The brothers shared a smile at the memory, but that quickly evaporated as the peril that Joe had been in on that trip was refreshed in their minds and could not be easily forgotten. Unfortunately, stark similarities of the danger their sibling was facing could be drawn with the precarious circumstances he had fallen into with Seline.

"I am inclined to agree with you that he would quickly feel out of place as much as you. Joe might be happy to indulge at first, but he would quickly be deterred by being expected to wear something more appropriate than his beloved green jacket," Adam responded. "Besides, he would only be wanting to make sure that Cochise was being taken care of, and sneaking downstairs to check on the animal all the time."

The two brothers chuckled quietly over Joe's particular brand of care about his horse, and the lengths he would go for her. It was a well known subject back on the Ponderosa and around Virginia City, often drawing a well placed joke or two. Although it was good to have a small distraction away from the restaurant, they were getting side-tracked again from the task at hand.

Adam was aware they had not discussed the prospect that Seline may demand a sizeable ransom for Joe's return on the journey thus far. Somehow he was convinced that that Seline had entirely different agenda in mind for Joe's safe return rather than wanting money. Until now, a slow chain of clues and misinformation had been gathered, tormenting at each turn that they were gaining ground.

With Joe still missing, there was no real way of measuring how close they were getting, and to be totally truthful, by travelling to New Orleans, it felt as though they were chasing their tails. Seline had already demonstrated that he was capable of being conniving, secretive and manipulative, with little regard for the people used in his schemes or the methods he was prepared to employ. The murdered doctor in San Francisco was a prime example.

Ben Cartwright of course, would be willing to mortgage everything he owned, including the Ponderosa. Their father would sell every single asset for the safe return of any one of his sons. This unpredictable adversary would be demanding more than any of them may be able to pay and extract a much higher price for the life of his prisoner. Seline was putting into place a meticulously planned out and uncompromising plan of revenge.

---

Exiting the St Charles Hotel, the two brothers were greeted with bright sunshine and another growing crowd of passengers arriving, loaded down with an endless load of baggage and trunks. The hotel staff were not going to get a moment's rest today as they hurried off once more to carry out their duties under the scrutiny of their demanding patrons.

"I feel kinda sorry for those fellas, dressed up like they were trained monkeys, stuck doing the same thing over and over again, day after day," Hoss commented. "Ain't no way for any man to make a decent living, but I guess things are a lot different around here."

"A little too mundane for me as well, but I suspect some of them do enjoy their work. They probably don't get paid very much, but no doubt they are proud to bring home money to support their families each week," Adam replied. "Times are hard all over, not just out on the ranches and in the mines at home. Everybody is competing against each other for a handle full of crumbs."

"Come on, we need to find a mode of transportation for ourselves...," Adam began to say, but then spotted a shock of hair in the crowd that drew his attention. "Our wish may have just been granted," he added cryptically as he started walking towards the crowd.

"I thought we were finding somewhere to stay," Hoss called out, trying to keep track of his brother's black hat in the middle of the oncoming people. He excused himself as a number of people rudely pushed their way passed him. By the time he had a chance to look forward again, Adam was nowhere to be seen.

"Adam! Where are you?" Hoss shouted over everyone's head, only to receive a few scathing looks for his trouble.

An older, plump woman wearing a dark green dress and matching bonnet stopped in front of him, barely reaching the height of his broad chest. Disapproval was written across her face at his outburst as she made a point to berate him, "Young man, there is certainly no need to raise your voice outside in public to that level."

Hoss looked suitably chastised, removing his hat before offering an apology, "Sorry ma'am, I was trying to find my brother...," but by then woman had turned away and moved on, not even slightly interested in listening to any reason he was giving in his own defence. Life around this city travelled at a very different pace to what he was used to, and the rudeness and indifference of people towards their neighbour was becoming very unpleasant.

Before he had the chance to let the unfriendly surrounds bring him down further, Hoss was startled by the sound of someone else shouting out above the sea of people.

Craning his neck to get a better view towards the sound, he listened intently, convinced that he had heard the voice somewhere before.

"Out of the way you people, can't you see the man is trying to get through here," a thick Irish accent demanded. "Come on, be quick about it, make a path, there is hardly any room to breathe."

A man belonging to that voice found his way through the crowd and was now talking directly to Hoss, "I am sorry about that Mr Cartwright, some of the folk around here need a few lessons in good manners as you can plainly see."

For a moment, Hoss stared back in confusion at the man chatting to him, scarcely able to believe that it was the same person they had come across earlier this morning. The man's friendly disposition was completely different to the diminutive woman. He couldn't help but give a lopsided grin in return.

After seeing the unspoken question written across his brother's face, Adam came up along side of him, speaking softly into his ear. "I spotted him unloading a group of passengers as we were making our way out of the hotel. Unfortunately we don't have much choice at the moment of finding someone who knows the city better than we do. This may be a curse or a mixed blessing in disguise," he casually remarked.

Hoss nodded in head in agreement, some luck or good fortune shining on them from somewhere would be most welcome. This fellow had given a good account of himself of being able to get people around the city. This was the taxi-driver that he had separated from the wagon teamster at the railway station. Before he could say too much more, the man reintroduced himself.

The man was sporting a bruise above his right eyebrow, a reward from the scuffle he had gotten mixed up in. Right at this particular moment, any bitterness from that encounter had been forgotten as he held out his hand, wearing a smile on his face, "Doyle...Seamus Doyle, at your service. I know we may have gotten off on the wrong foot this morning, but I promise to treat you and your family right and help you out."

The man's attitude had definitely changed from when they had crossed paths at the railway station. Their father had not been impressed with his antics either, but chose to turn the tables in their favour and gain some valuable information. Adam must have taken a page from his father's book and changed his mind too since the man had been less than happy with the coin payment he had received for clues about Joe's movements after the train.

Hoss obliged, completing the friendly gesture of a handshake as his curiosity came out in the form of a question, "What are you doing around these streets?" Hearing the question spoken out loud, he was worried that the driver might take offence.

Catching himself too late, he wanted to make sure that he wasn't misunderstood, "I didn't mean nothin' by that," he gave in apology. He had not meant to directly imply that the driver came from a lower working class. There were unwritten expectations from a city where the population was often segregated by race, economic status and ethnicity.

The driver didn't take offence at such a label, instead speaking to them on friendly terms. "This is part of me job," the Irish man declared with pride. "Picking up all those there passengers from the railway station and the stage coach stops and taking 'em wherever they desire to go. Every so often I am fortunate, and it happens to be to fancy places like the Saint Charles."

Doyle continued to explain his day to day itinerary and to give a word of warning. "It's like this you see, I like helpin' new visitors to our fair city, but like those such as yourselves, they aren't always aware of the tricks that are waiting to happen to them. Not everybody in New Orleans is as honest as I am, and would just as soon hand any one of you over to the local constabulary if they thought they could make a quid out your misfortune. Heed my words and be careful wherever you travel to because there are people waiting to profit off your disadvantage and lack of local knowledge."

"There are really folk here that would do that?" Hoss questioned, knowing that he fell into the group of people that the driver was talking about falling foul of false intentions. "Hand you into the police like you said just now?"

"Every single day," Seamus answered plainly and without hesitation. "Does everybody go by the rules where you are from?"

Hoss looked down at his feet before giving his reluctant reply, using one boot to scrap the dust and dirt off with the heal of the other, "I guess not." There were a lot of good folks from Nevada Territory, including those who enforced the law.

Normally he was willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt and trust that they were true to their word. Honesty and having belief in a man's handshake were strong traits he looked for and lived by, but a lot of people saw things that way. There had been some unscrupulous people in Virginia City in the past, and quite a few more that he could think of that would rather see you in Sheriff Coffee's jail house. If he put his mind to it, he could come up with quite a few examples of people who would do others harm without any regard for the misery that it caused.

Adam cleared his throat, reminding the driver to move on from the current topic of discussion to the other purpose. Whilst maintaining eye contact with their new found Irish friend, he informed Hoss about what had already discussed and agreed upon. "Mr Doyle here has generously offered to help us find all that we need, a livery stable, somewhere to stay and perhaps guide us through the messy network of streets; for sufficient payment of course."

Seamus took the hint, giving a slight nod at the arrangements to the man dressed in black, "Your brother, Adam, tells me that both of you are lookin' for a different kind of lodgings? Can't say that I blame you at all. Goodness me, it would take me a whole half a year to be able to afford walkin' in the front door of the grand place," the driver commented, choosing to leave out the subject of money.

"Our Pa will be wanting to join us," Hoss quickly added. "We had better get a move on, Adam, he will be expecting to meet us down near the waterfront at that Nest place." He couldn't quite remember the name.

"The Captain's Nest," Adam recited. "Yes he was, but I suspect that we should have plenty of time to rendezvous with him. I have a fairly good hunch where he was headed to," he said cryptically. Hoss have been told before, but being the older sibling he had a better recollection of his father's past association with Marius Angerville and where he first met Joe's mother, Marie.

"Aye, I know the place you be talking about," Doyle did not mask his skeptical expression. "Are you sure the name you heard is the right one? Your father could have meant somewhere else a bit more hospitable for folks from out of town. Forgive me for saying it out loud, but that is not the kind of place I would be tellin' people about in regular conversation."

"Come along with me, and you can tell me rest of your troubles along as I show you the way towards a place I know about," Seamus suggested, gesturing for them to board his taxi. Both brothers followed the driver back to where his buggy was standing. The two horses were calmly standing by, awaiting the next instruction.

---

Joining the other buggy's and other transportation on the street, the Cartwright brothers were pleased to have the driver's expertise. The chaos and speed that they had witnessed from standing on the street couldn't compare with what they were experiencing right now. Some of the horses and wagons were so close you could almost reach out and touch the riders and travellers.

Seamus steered his team of horses and weaved his taxi through the street with practised ease, even managing to turn a corner onto an adjacent road without causing hindrance to wagon, pedestrian or animal. Adam noticed his brother becoming increasing uncomfortable and moving around on the seat as he tried to remember different places of business along their route.

"Having trouble there?" he finally asked as he felt his brother's larger frame move again.

"Dadburnit, Adam, I don't mean no disrespect, but these things just ain't wide enough for the both of us at the same time. Especially with someone as big as me," he grouched, shifting backwards, not liking the cramped quarters." Hoss felt like he was travelling from Virginia City by stagecoach all over again.

Adam felt the same way, but while they were reliant on Doyle for his local knowledge, they were going to have to adapt and make some compromises, "With any luck, we will reach our new destination and you can get out again and stretch your legs again."

From his vantage point, Seamus was able to overhear the conversation between the two brothers, and noted the complaints about his taxi, "I am sorry about the narrow seating inside there Mr Cartwright," he voiced, trying to take their mind off the lack of space.

"Plain old Hoss please for me, and this here is my brother, Adam. Mr Cartwright is how the manager at the bank addresses my Pa when he first walks in, not us." He knew that the man was probably used to speaking formally to other passengers, but he was tired of that and wanted to be called by the simple name he was known by.

Seamus tipped the hat he was wearing with his free hand to show he understood, keeping the reins of the horse team firmly in the other.

"Did you happen to find your young friend yet?" Doyle asked, keeping the questions about the purpose of their visit to New Orleans. Back at the Railway Station, their father had been willing to pay a handsome sum of money for any small clues to their questions. He remembered that they had been looking for a young man wearing a green jacket.

"We haven't received any further information than what you were able to provide this morning," Adam replied. He was cautious in omitting any direct mention of Joe's disappearance being a kidnapping. "The person we are looking for is our younger brother, Joe."

"You think he is here in New Orleans?" Seamus asked, seeing a few lines of worry etched on Hoss' face, but not saying anything out loud.

"When we were speaking to you this morning, you remembered that there were a few other people in company with Joe a few days ago, including a petite blond lady," Adam explained. "The trail has since grown cold about his movements after the train station and we are anxious to find him."

Doyle thought over the what he had recounted, "Like I said then, I don't remember much, and I wasn't taking much notice except for the fact that he was young. The green jacket stood out, but I didn't get a good look at his face. There were definitely no names spoken out loud between any one of them. I am sorry that I didn't know differently at the time, but I see so many people coming and going on a daily basis that finer details get a bit muddled at times."

"No harm done," Hoss voiced. "Our family is grateful for anything that might help us find Joe. After seeing the crowds in the city today, I can see how easy it would be to get folks mixed up."

Adam wasn't normally one to believe in things happening for a reason, but perhaps fate was taking a hand in their paths crossing again with the driver today. A chance encounter twice on the same day was more than a stretch, or believing that meeting again was merely coincidence. Maybe Hoss' luck from the Irish people had rubbed off and was following them.

"We are coming into a completely different area out of the city centre now," Doyle informed them, as the tall buildings gave way to different styles of housing. The streets were still wide, but the number of people riding horses decreased dramatically. There were open buck-board wagons carrying all kinds of goods rather than passengers. Children were playing simple games in small groups outside. The contrast was like night and day.

Adam started providing Seamus with a list, "My brother here would like you to find us lodgings that would be more suitable for visitors from out of town. Something a lot simpler than the St Charles building behind us, but offers hot water and good food and a nice place to sleep at a reasonable price. There will be two of us, my father whom you have already encountered, and enough space and extra room for Joe to join us afterwards."

Doyle turned his head and grinned widely in Hoss' direction, "I knew I was going to like you, Hoss! Mark my words, I promise that I know the perfect place," he announced with excitement. The horses picked up on the change in his tone of voice, increasing their gait to match the spark of fresh exuberance.

"Do tell us about your choice," Adam encouraged, pleased to see his brother relax a little due to the driver's friendly nature.

"Ah, all in good time lads," Doyle responded, clearly happy to keep an air of mystery about where he was intending to take them. "May not look much from the outside to most folk, but the place I have in mind is a hidden gem in this city." The vague description only heightened the brother's curiosity more about where they were headed.

Hoss brought up the other place they were keen to discover today. "Once we find that place, Seamus, a livery stable where we can rent some horses for our time here will be the next stop."

"I can be helping you with that," the driver answered, guessing that these men usually got themselves around by riding their own mounts. "There is a livery stable only a stones throw from place I am leading you. There you will find all the horses you be needing and the bits and bobs that comes with that.

Doyle wanted to hold onto their patronage for as long as he could. "Travelling like we are now may not be the fastest way and I can see by the expression on your face, Hoss, that you would prefer to be riding rather than being conveyed around by someone else such as myself. Heed my words now, that the streets in this part of the city are different because of the history that comes with them."

"A right nice part of the city that we are coming into now, away from all those toffee nose folk. Visitors have come to know this area as the French District," he elaborated. "But alas, that is where they fail to fully appreciate that the music, food and people here are unique and come from more than one place. Each with their own story to tell, and none of them the same. There is a mixture of faces, sights, smells and beliefs that you won't see anywhere else, not even in San Francisco.

"Talking of them hiding something dark and sinister?" Adam commented casually, his tone clearly one of not believing any stories of ghosts or roaming spirits.

Seamus could hear that Adam wasn't going to be influenced by folk-tales or legends, "You don't have to believe in them for it to be true," he warned. "There can be some bad elements around here at night is all I am saying. If you and your family were inclined to use me for the length of your stay, then it would take much less time to take you around and my own way of knowing how things work comes at no extra charge."

'Trying to get a little extra coinage for your trouble,' Adam thought wryly to himself. They were turning the corner of an intersecting street, when he noted the sign Royale Road attached to the wrought iron fence as they passed by. "We would need to discuss your proposition with our father..."

Any further discussion between him and Seamus was drowned out by Hoss' sudden loud shout. He had been gazing across the opposite side of the street when he spotted a familiar figure, "Pull over, there he is now!" he declared with surprise. "Pa! Hey Pa!" he called out.

Guiding his team carefully off to the side of the road, Doyle used a command to slow down the horses down without needing to pull back on the leather straps too sharply. Adam placed a restraining hand on his brother's upper arm, preventing Hoss from taking a nasty tumble in his haste out of the buggy. There was a genuine silent sigh of relief that his efforts had worked.

Ben had stopped walking abruptly at hearing a distinct voice and noting a buggy slowing down nearby. It was difficult to know who was more surprised to see each other, the two brothers or their father.

Rushing across the street, there had been a moment of worry as he saw Hoss stumble briefly. A broad smile appeared on his face at seeing his larger son standing safely next to horses. "What in the world are you two doing on this side of the city? I was starting to walk towards to the waterfront like we arranged, worried that I was going to be dreadfully late to meet up at the Captain's Nest."

"It's sure good to see you too, Pa," Hoss remarked truthfully, shaking his father's hand. "Adam and I started looking for a place to stay like you told us, but it didn't rightly turn out at all like we had hoped."

"Trouble?" Ben surmised, looking up at the driver with a raised-eyebrow and waiting for a further explanation for the turn of events. This was the man they had come into contact with outside the railway station. He had given them answers that was sketchy at best, convinced that he had seen Joe a number of days ago. How had his two sons come to be riding in the company of this fellow to a completely different place?

Ben had left the Angerville building and only managed to walk a short distance past the bustling Exchange Market, intending to make a turn at the next corner. Another minute or two would have had them heading in opposite directions, hampering their intentions to rendezvous and decide on a search pattern to find Joe.

Adam answered, climbing out of the buggy, also greeting his father with a handshake. "Not trouble exactly, Pa. After separating this morning, we walked towards the centre of the city, and found ourselves standing outside the Saint Charles Hotel. There was definitely a large crowd of people going in and coming out."

"The Saint Charles?," Ben questioned, a place he had heard about through various sources over the years, but had never visited in person. In the back of his mind he remembered reading a newspaper article about there being a devastating fire. There had been mention of the building undergoing a large scale rebuild, with the interior to be refurbished in time for a grand re-opening.

"I didn't think it was the place that you would like to stay in Pa, or Joe," Hoss said, looking down at his feet, hoping his father wasn't going to be too disappointed that he had chosen to stay some place else. "Adam went to ask if they had rooms available, but I guess I sort of got cold feet about staying there and how much it might cost. Ain't a darn thing on the menu that short shanks would haven eaten anyhow iffn' we could even read those foreign words."

"Quite a luxurious place from what I have been lead to believe." He would have trusted either son's choice of accommodation, but to be honest he had not considered such a large and eloquent option for their needs. Whilst not out of character, Ben could see Hoss' reluctance and avoidance to talk more on the subject, aware of his son's aversion of people and places when he felt discontented.

Both Adam and Ben were astute enough to share a knowing look and understand there was a whole lot more to hear about the morning's escapade that didn't need to be brought up right now. They could speak more privately later between the two of them.

"Mr Doyle was letting off passengers outside of the hotel and I suspected he may be able to point us in the direction of a place to stay," Adam explained. "We were on our way there now before Hoss spotted you walking."

"A most fortunate thing too, Mr Cartwright, that I came along when I did," Doyle exclaimed in self-praise. "Now you are all together again instead of getting lost. I be only too happy to convey you to a place that I was telling your boys about. The lady who owns the house will be most welcoming to any strangers so long as they mind her rules."

"Can you take us there now please to make sure that she does have room enough for us to stay, Mr Doyle?" Ben questioned. "Once that has been taken care of, I would greatly appreciate you taking us back into the city to the police station. I know it means taking up more of your time, but I am willing to compensate you in return."

"Those are most generous terms, Mr Cartwright, and I accept," Seamus replied. "These are hard times for everybody and with five little mouths of my own at home to feed, I am sure you understand that a man has to do the best for one's family."

"Climb inside there with the both of you, plenty of room for two gents," the driver instructed. "Hoss, you can take a seat beside me now. Usually frowned upon for a passenger to ride on-top, but this afternoon, we speak of it no more."

Ben and Adam took up their seats inside the buggy, whilst Hoss clambered up beside the driver. He was definitely pleased to have more space to move about.

"Be careful there now, Hoss," Doyle warned. Although there was more room, the bench seat was narrower and it wouldn't take much for someone to lose their balance and topple off. "I would never forgive myself if one of my passengers took a nasty fall and was hurt."

"Don't worry about me none, Seamus, I have been driving all kinds of wagons around our ranch back home myself for quite a number of years," Hoss commented. "Even rode as shotgun on a couple of stagecoaches from Reno and Carson City for the Sheriff. Pa and Adam have done the same. I even taught my younger brother, Joe, how to control a team of horses as he was learning."

"The place I be taking you all to is only a couple of streets away," Doyle called out as he snapped the reins and urged the horses forward. Adam and Ben were both pleased to be able to hear Hoss talking, signalling that he was in a more relaxed frame of mind. Inside the buggy, the topic of discussion was the need for all of them to have a decent meal.

"Do you really have five little tykes at home?" Hoss asked out of curiosity. "Must be tough raising them in such a big city." It was no secret in the Cartwright family that Hoss adored children, often preferring to be in their company compared to some adults.

"Aye, Hoss, I do," Doyle answered with a smile on his face. "Four little masters, two older boys in front and two younger ones at the back with one little shy lass in the middle." For the duration of the journey, he told Hoss each of their names and their ages. The man may not be rich with material possessions and worked long hours away from them to earn money they needed; but the way he spoke of his wife and children were as if they were all the treasure in the world he would ever need.

---

Back at the paddle boat:

Seline entered the room where he has last seen Bonnie, but she was no longer there. Walking closer to the bed and gazing down at the occupant, the Cartwright boy was asleep. This was not the grand plan he had envisaged when he first took the young man away from his home and family. By now he had wanted to tame that youthful spirit and break the wilfulness he head inherited from his mother.

Thus far, his attempts at manipulation and forceful control had been mediocre and very unsatisfying. The head injuries had resulted in unforeseen delays of physical setbacks for his prisoner and a new, fast developing mistrust of certain uncooperative, loud-mouthed individuals from the medical profession. A few weeks ago, he was convinced that he had meticulously anticipated any problems before they arose. Patience was not his fortitude, but he had waited for exactly the right time to strike.

Any advantages he had gained by cunning and devious methods were quickly being eroded away, and time was becoming an enemy as it continued to slip through his fingers.

The final act of revenge against Ben Cartwright was still too far away, but there was no doubt that the boy's family were trailing behind his tangent of ambiguous clues.

Striding out of the room with determination, he had decided that he was going to wrestle back some sense of control. Heading towards the kitchen which was the next most likely places for her to be if she was taking care of his prisoner as that wretched doctor had instructed.

Reaching the kitchen door, Bonnie had her back turned on Marchant as she kept her attention on a pan on the stove. Using the apron covering her skirt, she lifted the hot cooking skillet off the small stove, carrying over to a nearby table. She startled at the silent figure standing there, almost dropping the dish of scrambled eggs onto the floor.

"I am sorry, my dear," Seline remarked, coming into the room. "I went to find you, but found young Joseph still asleep. Has he shown any improvement since the doctor's departure?" The tone of his voice made her skin crawl with ingenuousness. The man wanted something from her but not coming out plainly and saying what.

"No sign of waking if that is what you mean, but his sleep was rather restless again an hour ago due to pain," Bonnie answered truthfully. "I waited until he settled again before coming into here thinking that he may be hungry soon. I decided to make something simple, but a little more substantial this time than soup; scrambled egg. I have left the salt out until I see if his stomach is feeling nauseous and unsettled. Was there something else you wanted me to be doing?"

Seline's grin widened at her direct question, but he saw this as the perfect opportunity to introduce a difficult answer. "Yes, there was something that I wanted to speak to you about," he replied, using his index finger to to trace across the surface of the table.

"Put aside your concerns for Mr Cartwright's dietary requirements for a moment whilst I explain," he instructed. "What I have to tell you is most important, so I want you to listen to every word."

Bonnie did as she was asked, setting the skillet back onto the stove, and covering the small amount of egg she had laid out on a plate. A few minutes were needed for it to cool before it could be eaten.

"Take a seat if you prefer," her Boss suggested. This request only made her more nervous about what his demand was going to be. She didn't think he would say it was important or seek her out if it was something trivial. Bonnie sat down cautiously, keeping her eyes on him at all times. Her hands were under the table where he could not immediately see them. She was wringing the edge of her apron tightly in both hands waiting for him to speak.

"This vessel is impressive is it not?" he asked, waving his hand about, gesturing towards the ceiling and everything within its walls. "A great deal of money has been spent on gaining her for my plan against Ben Cartwright, and there is still a lot more yet to spend in coming days. For the moment, there is only yourself, our prisoner, Mr Yeager and Mr Edwards, but that number will change dramatically as of tomorrow."

"There will be a great many people here upon my orders undertaking tasks such as decorating the grand room to make it suitable as a gambling casino. There will be elaborate wooden tables and chairs brought in, luxurious fixtures and fittings, fabrics and curtains brought in. Some have come at a considerable cost after being sourced from various corners of the world," Seline explained.

"Down in the engine room, there will be a number of people who have been employed to carry out menial tasks such as bringing stores aboard, stoking the boilers and making sure that everything is secured down below. Those people are coloured slaves whom will be in my employ for a short duration. They will not be allowed on the decks above the water line."

"Some of them have been selected to be waiters and cooks for opening night, in which they will serve food and drink to our paying patrons, taking care of their every need," Marchant continued. "Those that will be required to mingle with guests will be provided with appropriate clothing and uniforms. I want that night to be flawless, without anything out of place."

"There is a large guest room on the other side of the boat, similar to the one that is assigned to Mr Cartwright. From tomorrow, that room will be out of bounds for everybody, including yourself and anybody else. From floor to ceiling, that room will be filled with furniture, rich furshings, bedding and other paraphernalia that one would associate with staying in a large expensive hotel. Only in this case, they will be staying here. Nobody is allowed to enter that room without my express permission, not even you."

"That brings me to my important task for you," Seline asserted. "Whilst I have spent a large amount of my own capital for this venture, I did need to ask for investment and financial backing from another source. This man is used to the finest of everything, and that is exactly what he will be getting here when he arrives. The very best of service."

"Who is this person?" Bonnie interrupted, not sure how she felt about the mention of a silent party being involved this late.

Seline was about to deliver a sharp rebuke, but instead decided to ignore the disapproval he could hear with her question. Her place was not to argue his choices, but to listen and obey when he commanded it.

"I have gained the best quality ingredients, wines, whiskey, cigars and anything else he is used to experiencing in life. But what I want to make even more sure of, is the quality of the female company he will keep on that opening night."

Bonnie suddenly understood the not-so-subtly of the message in his wording, jumping up off her chair in challenge, "You don't mean for me to...?" but any further refusal from her tongue was curtailed as he took a strong grip around her forearm.

"I do mean exactly that, and I expect you will do what you are told without raising your voice to me," he pressed harshly, squeezing her soft skin until she elicited a cry of pain. She had no choice but to nod her head at his warning. "Do I make myself, perfectly clear?" he hissed.

"Yes," she whispered, staring back at him and noting his menacing and unapologetic attitude. She felt the his hand around her arm loosen, but he was expecting her to pay close attention to what else he had to say.

"The man's name, Bartholonew Herbert Henry Adams, I am sure you will not know, and he will not be inclined to know the likes of you. He is used to dealing with business people, and sophisticated people who have been successful in life. Not those who find themselves as no more than a scullery maid or tramp off the streets of San Francisco."

'What is he doing loaning money to someone like you then?' Bonnie wanted to throw back in his face. Whilst she had not encountered him in person, she did know a little of his background. The newspapers regularly wrote articles on his family's financial ventures.

The words hit too close to home, but she refrained from objecting to his description of her life, instead make a surprising comment of her own. "I have heard of his name before," she said. "Being from San Francisco as you pointed out, most people from that city know who he is. He started his family fortune by working his way up in the world, not stepping on those beneath him."

"Well, I certainly would have suspected you had known of him," Seline responded with a good helping of condescension. "You are correct that he did work his way into money, but together his family manage a vast shipping and transport empire. He owns a significant interest in a number of companies shipping of goods and passengers from San Francisco through to New Orleans. There are in fact two other brothers who also control a large proportion of the delivery service from East to West. His eldest brother Miles Adams has heavy stakes in horses and the stagecoach lines. The younger brother Ethan Adams has a majority interest in the railway network, including its rapid expansion.

"All of them have been in business for more than twenty five years. I am unaware of his complete travel itinerary, but he sent a telegram advising of his acceptance of my invitation. He was due to travel by clipper ship for a number of days, followed by train for some of the journey and the remainder by stagecoach. He is a careful man who likes to check up on his investments and employees, often travelling long distances to test out routes and make changes where necessary."

"You may consider someone such as myself to be gutter trash, but I am not one of those ladies of the night who would sell her body or soul for money," Bonnie ground out with contempt. She had been expecting to receive a slap to her face from his hand, and wanted to recoil away in revulsion when Seline's finger ran gently down the side of her pale face. He gently tucked a blond curl behind her ear, making his own insatiable and lascivious intentions for her clear.

"That probably won't be necessary. All I need you to do that night is to wear your finest dress and be sweet company for him as I show him around and introduce him to the other invited guests. If he wishes to indulge any other pleasures before, during or afterwards, well then, I will let you discuss that with him.

Bonnie felt his gaze upon her, and although his tone if voice had changed, there was still an open threat of what could happen to her if she didn't reply to his requests, or denied those of Mr Adams once he arrived.

"I will leave you now and allow you to tend to young Mr Cartwright before his food gets any colder," Seline said with finality, releasing her arm and walking to the door. "Oh, on that opening night, Mr Edwards and Mr Yeager will take over personal security and supervision of Joseph. They will watch his every move, as I have some special plans in store on that particular night."

Bonnie found herself sitting down in the chair as she tried to take in what she had been told. Seline had already killed someone in cold blood when they had challenged him. She didn't want to become another nameless murder victim, but for herself there was the risk of suffering an even worse fate than death. The next few days would see her removed from taking care of Joe Cartwright, putting both of them put in more danger. She felt a cold chill run down the length of her spine at the thought of her future in the grubby and groping hands of Marchant Seline.

---

Ben Cartwright and his two sons were now headed away from their new lodgings, back towards the city. They had arrived outside a cottage that was quite deceiving about the amount of space it had to offer. A low set building with larger two storey properties towering over it on either side. The roof-line of that particular house slanted to the front and the back creating a distinct triangular shape to the side gables.

Seamus Doyle had taken them to a bordering house belonging to Mrs Rosella Fleur, or 'Rose' they were encouraged to call her. The cottage had two entrances and two windows on the front facing exterior. Inside there were five separate bedrooms as well as two living areas, and a number of smaller rooms not including the kitchen. The woman had a kind smile, her long skirts of a dark blue fabric, her silvering blond hair pinned up at the back, curling and poking out at the front of the wool woven bonnet framing her face. Her warm brown eyes spoke of hardships endured that were never spoken of and held a gaze of wisdom that only came from experience.

The men explained to the woman that they needed accommodation for themselves and one other family member who would joining them later. They were unable to tell her how many nights they would be staying, but Rose assured them that there would be plenty of room for them as long as they needed. These last few months had seen less guests staying and she welcomed the money offered for at least a week in addition to food with a quiet thanks. The price seemed a little low despite being well maintained and presented single storey house, but Ben made a promise to ensure that their host would be adequately compensated. He made a note to discuss the matter with her at a later time.

Being the one nominated to go inside and assess if this place would be suitable, Hoss came out wearing a huge grin of approval. "Ma'am, the supper you are cooking in there is making me hungrier than a bear after the snow has melted in the winter time.

"I will make sure that there is some extra warm crusty bread set aside just for you, " she assured Hoss, pleased to hear his praise about the delicious smells wafting from her well worn kitchen. "I will make sure that there is plenty to eat for everybody when Seamus has returned you back safely from your business in the city. I will make sure that there is a room made up for each of you with plenty of warm blankets so that you sleep well tonight."

Thankfully, Rose had not asked too many questions about the nature of their business or why they were going in the city. She was ready to hear their stories when they were ready to share them. She had been curious about why they had arrived to stay without any clothes or belongings.

When they left Virginia City on the stagecoach, each of the them had been carrying a small carpet bag each. Adam explained that when they left the railway station this morning, they were intending to traverse the streets on foot until they at least found a livery stable. They had arranged with the porter to keep their bags secure, expecting to be riding back on horses to collect them.

With their circumstances changing after the Saint Charles hotel, Doyle told the men that he would make time to take them back to pick up their bags after attending the police station. Back in San Francisco, Hoskins had shown them the condition of the clothes Joe had with him in the saddle bags left inside his suite. Once he had been found and was safely back with the family, they may need to visit some clothing stores to replenish anything he needed before they left for home. Any additional clothing required for themselves could be purchased at the same time.

"I will be seeing you soon, Miss Rose," Seamus uttered with a smile as he climbed up onto his buggy, tipping his hat in farewell, gesturing for his passengers to climb aboard. "You won't find a nicer lady in this city, Hoss. Would help out any lost soul with a spare bed and something to eat when they are down on their luck. Even for a poor Irish fool such as myself when I first came here. One can only savour how good her cooking really is by tasting it for themselves. Ladies come to her wanting to discover new and favourite recipes to pass along to their own families."

"Take heed of what I tell you now," Seamus cautioned, waiting until Hoss turned and faced him before delivering his a stern warning. "Mark my words, if you rile her or do wrong to someone she comes to care about; the wrath she unleashes will be swift and unforgettable. The very devil himself will seem like a better choice of friend."

---

New Orleans Central Police District:

The two storey building from the outside appeared drab and washed out as the three members of the Cartwright family alighted from the taxi on the opposite corner.

There was nowhere for buggy's to stop directly out the front, so they were forced to make their across the bustling street. The time was now just past one in the afternoon, allowing plenty of time to state their case for assistance.

Seamus intended to wait with his horses for them to finish their business before returning them to Rose's boarding house. The inside of the police headquarters of the city was not a place wished to spend any mount of time. "I will be stayin' right here with Buster and Finnegan, Mr Cartwright," he stipulated to Ben, affectionately rubbing the noses of his horses.

"Thank you, that would be mighty helpful," Ben answered, but his gaze was already drawn towards the entrance. "Come on, boys, Joe will be counting on us," he urged, straightening his hat with purpose in mind.

The differences between this police headquarters and the one he had first entered in San Francisco were quite noticeable. A number of tall, police constables dressed in smart blue uniforms, accented with pewter buttons, could be seen in pairs or small groups, going studiously about their work. Adam and Hoss remained quiet, but alert, wanting to portray a unified front in finding their missing brother. Following their father through two large doors to the ground floor, they were ready to join any organised search team.

Behind that set of double doors there was a long wooden counter, possibly leading to other offices or even holding cells. To the right, set against the wall was an internal staircase where a number of police officers were walking up to, or returning from the floor above their heads. The place wasn't overly crowded at this time of the afternoon, but there was enough continual movement of people to signify that they were providing an invaluable service within the city.

Ben found himself craving the small amount of space and single desk that local Sheriff Coffee occupied inside the Virginia City jail-house. Compared to this building, the resources Roy was afforded appeared quite rudimentary and simplistic, but at least he was much more approachable. At least there Ben could be assured of having one person's undivided attention when there was a problem to discuss.

Upon approaching the Officer on Duty, there was a printed sign affixed that read 'All Enquiries' and below it, translated into French, 'Toutes les Demandes'. A small reminder that there were two languages spoken by different sections of the population. A portion of the inhabitants were able to read, write and converse in French and English.

In San Francisco, Constable William Turner had greeted Ben when he first reported Joe missing, but the police officer that he approached now, was not wearing any kind of identifying name badge. Everything about the man's posture and attitude displayed boredom and disinterest.

"Good afternoon, my name is Ben Cartwright and these are my two eldest sons, Adam and Hoss. We are seeking your urgent assistance in helping find my youngest son, Joseph Cartwright," the patriarch gave in introduction.

"My name is Sergeant Felix Guillaume," the officer declared with a deep, heavy French accent, nodding his head in acknowledgement at those standing in front of him. The officer's bushy eyebrows arched in silent confusion at the very different attire the three men were wearing, including the older silver-haired man speaking directly to him.

Ben could sense the man's unspoken question, advising him of where they had come from, "We have travelled a very long way for the best part of two weeks, over various routes from our ranch The Ponderosa from Nevada." After hearing his own words of admission out loud, he could scarcely believe the time frame. Had Joe been missing for all that time?

"Gone and gotten himself lost has he?" the Officer remarked, pulling out a large book and small bottle of ink, preparing to write down any pertinent details. "I will need to know a little more about him than just a name, please."

"Joseph Cartwright, nineteen years of age, slim build, a fair complexion with brown hair and could have been carrying or wearing a green jacket," Ben quoted.

"Dix-neuf ans?" the Officer scoffed. A word or two in French were creeping into his comments before he continued in English. "Probably got himself lost in a cheap bottle of liquor and is currently sleeping off the contents in one of the taverns along the coast, Monsieur Cartwright," he gave as an alternative scenario, concluding with an insincere chuckle. The smirk quickly died on his lips as he looked into the man's tired face, noting his disapproval at the assessment of his son's possible movements and current location.

"Young men come to this city with plenty of wild ideas, money in their pocket, only to get themselves into all kinds of nuisance trouble," the Officer explained for his rudeness and insensitivity. "There may be a number perfectly normal, and innocent reasons for you not to be able to locate your son. Most of their actions are quite harmless, but they fail to think ahead about the consequences."

"For your information, Sir," Ben replied in his son's defence, "We strongly believe he may have been taken from San Francisco by force and smuggled into this city. His whereabouts are unknown of course, that is why we are coming to you here today. We fear that Joe may have been hurt, and is most certainly being held against his will and

kept as a prisoner."

"We suspect deliberate steps have been taken by those responsible to thwart any efforts to find him or for my son to meet with other parties in San Francisco as arranged prior to leaving home. We have seen for ourselves that his horse is still being cared for at the livery stable of the hotel. One of those appointments was with a Major Kenneth Branson where a large sum of money was expected to be exchanged and deposited in a bank. The concierge stated that he saw my son leave the hotel that morning on foot, but Major advised us that Joseph never arrived at the bank, which is most out of character."

The Police Officer realised that had done the young man's family a dis-service by making unsubstantiated judgements about his character, and he could see that they were not about to accept that point of view about their missing family member.

"I apologize for my lack of understanding about your situation, Mr Cartwright," Officer Guillaume said, standing up to his full height, preparing to listen more intently to their plight. "Please forgive me, all that information you gave a minute ago is too much at once. I prefer if you could start back at the beginning."

The man's heavy accent made it much more difficult to pick up everything he was saying in the conversation.

Ben gave a tired, frustrated sigh, annoyed at the man's insistence of repeating himself thus far and wasting precious time. Removing his hat, he made sure that the officer was paying full attention as he began his story again for a second time. He hadn't gotten too far though before the officer was interrupting again with fresh questions of his own.

"Do you have proof that your son taken by somebody, Mr Cartwright?"

"None of us were in the same city from where he was kidnapped," Ben answered. "We did receive some very helpful clues from the police in San Francisco. There was also a note at the shipping yard, bearing my name," he added, pulling out the small piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handing it over to be examined.

Officer Guillaume accepted the hand-written note, reading the message several times before pointing out one vital piece of information, "This does not show anywhere, the identity of the person who is telling you of his fate. Do you have their name?"

"No, but we believe it was possibly left behind by a young woman who was travelling with my son," Ben remarked. He hoped that the man didn't intend to use the word 'fate' too often around Joe's name.

"Do you have her name?"

Ben turned back towards his son's for clarification.

"Hoskins is the name of the man behind the reception desk of the Plaza Hotel, and he informed us that her name was, Bonnie," Adam replied, stepping forward to continue. "The woman worked at the hotel for an indistinguishable amount of time, but couldn't be located, and her absence coincided a little too conveniently with my brother's disappearance. Constable Turner in San Francisco was able to give a first-hand witness account and description that matched a young woman accompanying Joe out of the city. She is reported to be the last person to have spoken to him on the night he checked into the hotel and before he left for the bank to meet with Major Branson."

"We believe that a man by the name of Marchant Seline may be responsible for my son's captivity, or at least arranged for it to happen. That person has held a grudge against myself and my late wife, Marie, before Joseph was even born. Only now has he decided to strike by carrying out such a vile act of betrayal, for whatever reason. You can confirm anything that we have told you with the San Francisco police. We know the services of a doctor were employed before they left the city. The body of a physician was found murdered."

The officer appeared suitably surprised and alarmed at the news of a doctor being murdered.

Ben pleaded for him to understand how worried they were for Joe. "Officer, I am a wealthy man in money, land and livestock, but I fear that this man has much more than the financial gain my of material assets in mind for my son. Seline wants revenge on me, and he is using Joseph as a bargaining chip to achieve that satisfaction. We need to do everything we can to find him now!"

Clearing his throat to hide how much of an impact this young man's disappearance was having on him, the officer continued his line of questioning. "Monsieur Cartwright, have you received a ransom note from this person, threatening harm to your son?"

The officer could see that Ben was about to give a negative response, but spoke his reasoning first, "You state to me that you are a man of substantial means and assets. If taking your son was his purpose, should you not have received such a demand by now?"

"No such note has been received, but Seline is playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, leaving a few useless crumbs behind, knowing that we will follow his twisting trail that lead to nothing but dead ends," Ben replied, his voice becoming a little harder towards the end. "I am not about to stand by idly and wait for false hope."

Hoss watched the police officer stop writing, hoping that he was about to make some definitive solutions about organising a search party after hearing his father's impassioned words. Unfortunately his next sentence put a whole dampener on much being done to find Joe at all. The larger Cartwright was getting equally frustrated by the lack of action happening.

Adam's face disguised his emotions well behind a calm exterior, with his arms folded across his chest masking a distinct level of irritation. Knowing he had to prevent himself from making a rash statement and risk jeopardising police involvement. He had spent some time enforcing the law in smaller towns as a deputy sheriff, rounding up a posse of men to chase down known outlaws.

All four Cartwright's, including Joe, had been involved in searches on horseback and foot. Often these were children who had wandered away and had become lost accidentally and lacked a sense of direction. There were also victims of robbery or criminal activity who were left by thieves or bandits to fend for themselves in unforgiving or dense terrain, during all types of weather.

After being within these walls during the last hour this afternoon, and having watched the officer's gestures and general mannerisms, he could only draw the conclusion of having seen more organisational skills in Hop Sing's chicken coop.

"I will make the necessary enquiries with our brother officers in San Francisco, but expect any answers to take more than a few days...," the officer began to say.

"More than a few days?" Hoss exclaimed, not allowing him to finish the sentence and unable to hold back his criticism. "The varmint that has my brother could be long gone by then!"

Ben put a hand on his son's beefy shoulder to curb his outburst, knowing that he was only voicing how they were all feeling.

"Please understand me gentlemen, you are missing this Joseph quite badly, I know this," Guillaume remarked, "My hands remain, how you say, tied. You are requesting that I do something with very little evidence of a crime being committed. Your proof is this torn scrap of paper left by nobody, hearsay from strangers and suspicions based on past personal grievances against you, not your son."

"Our police force does not have the man power to traipse off each time a report reaches us of someone missing. It cannot work this way like you ask. Perhaps if you had come to me today with something more tangible, or a witness who could make a statement, or that ransom demand. I will do the best I can with what you have told me so far, but right now for you, the wheel turns a little slower I think, yes?"

"You have our assurance that we will endeavour to do what we can, but I need for you to be patient and wait to be contacted further. A search can only be conducted once a narrower area of the city can be determined," the officer informed the family. "Do you have somewhere to stay in the city where you may be reached with news?"

"That is all you are proposing to do, after everything you have heard?" Ben petitioned with hands on his hips and a hard-line expression on his face. The patriarch was beyond incensed at the man's justification of passivity with shallow promises. "After listening to us explain that something is dreadfully wrong, and plead how urgent this matter is. For you then to insist that we wait until you are satisfied that our claim has merit and we are telling you the truth?"

Ben was about to request to speak to a superior officer, not accepting of the officer's opinion on how understaffed their police force was or care about the lack of evidence that had been presented. Joe was laying hurt somewhere and being denied his freedom, whilst he was forced to stand in front of this counter and argue with the police.

'Wasn't a man's solemn word good enough any more?'

"Mr Cartwright, the sheer number of people, including children who are reported missing in this city on a daily basis would no doubt shock your family," Officer Guillaume remarked. "Today, I have a three year old female child missing and an eighty-nine year old man, who suffers from senility. Which of these two urgent cases do you suggest I spend less time and resources on finding before nightfall?"

"This police station houses more than two hundred and fifty officers, all of whom speak both French and English to carry out their duties. During their shift hours, they are required to cover an area of this city that could use double that number and still not have time to complete every investigation thoroughly enough."

Politeness and courtesy were quickly being eroded away by the officer due to his impersonal attitude. He had been beginning to show some genuine signs of empathy a few minutes ago when he asked Ben to repeat his story and be eager to help. Unfortunately that point of view changed all too suddenly.

Hoss and Adam exchanged a knowing look with each other as their father gripped the brim of his hat a lot tighter, changing his expression again to one they were quite familiar with. Their father wasn't about to allow himself to be treated like the backwoods cow-poke that this police officer had probably sized Ben Cartwright to be. The two brothers had seen this stance a few times in their lives, tugging the front of their hats down to hide unsympathetic grins at what was about to befall Officer Guillaume.

This stature of Ben normally caused cow-hands to stop any work they were doing in the barn or around the yard, gather together and take an interest in what the boss of the Ponderosa wanted to say. The same method was employed as a businessman when delivering an ultimatum to sloppy suppliers when they had failed to fulfil their obligations of a contract. An unwavering gaze he directed at a Governor or local town mayor when he challenged them over trying to using the Ponderosa's reputation and brand. He wasn't about to allow their good name to be used to gain power by political influence or interference for their own profit.

A much younger Joe Cartwright had encountered the same stern presence and had been stopped in his tracks more than once or twice. Usually when being caught running through the house or having his boots on the furniture and skedaddling out the front door to start his chores on time. The boys had learnt to read Ben's body language before they heard him speak.

Hoss and Adam both remembered being on the receiving end of that steadfast scrutiny from those brown eyes, followed by hearing that powerful voice giving them a steely lecture they wouldn't soon forget. They had witnessed it again recently when their father had discovered Seline's name signed in the hotel register in Virginia City. Their father had relied on that raw determination as he strode out, intending to fetch back Little Joe.

Standing before Officer Guillaume, Ben chose not to raise his voice, but ensured that he held the man's undivided attention with his next proclamation.

Ben poured a mixture of disappointment and slow simmering anger into his short, meaningful testimony of words. "Today, we have come to you after travelling for almost two weeks, pleading for assistance on behalf of someone whom we care for greatly. At the very least, you could have offered some basic human decency and kindness. Instead, I find myself standing here, talking in riddles and arguing legalities, allowing more time to bleed away and our anxiety and concern for his well-being to grow."

"That lost little girl and elderly gentlemen certainly have every right to all the help and resources that you and your police division are able to offer at this time, on that we can most definitely agree. I pray for the them to be found quickly and be returned safely to their families. As the father of someone who will most likely remain missing by nightfall, I throw back to you that the circumstances surrounding my son's mysterious disappearance deserves no less consideration or effort of investigation. Our need to find Joseph comes with every ounce of fortitude that we can muster, and a very real fear for the danger he could be facing."

The police officer opened his mouth and was about to say something in his own defence, but closed it again in silence, his face reddening with shame as he continued to receive the sharp rebuke.

Ben provided the address of the Rose's boarding house as requested where they could be contacted, but made a final statement of warning as the three of them prepared to leave and return to the taxi and Seamus waiting outside.

"I reiterate my plea for any assistance, the officers and yourself from this station are willing to give in relation to this matter. Make no mistake that my sons and I will not sit upon our hands and do nothing, with or without the police. I intend to turn over every rock, brick and nailed wooden plank in this city until Joseph has been found and rescued, before it is too late."

---

Back at the paddle boat:

Carrying a tray containing the warm plate of food, a glass of water and a hot cup of coffe, Bonnie made her way back to the room where she had left Joe Cartwright sleeping. A myriad of negative thoughts on her mind and emotions she could barely control. Seline's task coinciding with the arrival of this new guest, Bartholomew Herbert Henry Adams were unsavoury and unwelcome.

Upon opening the door and entering the room, she was mildly surprised to see Joe Cartwright sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirtless back facing her. He was holding his head in his hands, massaging his temples. The headache he had when the doctor was present, still causing obvious discomfort.

Joe slowly turned his upper body and head at hearing her soft footsteps, squeezing his eyes tightly for a brief moment as movement caused his pain to spike, "I must have fallen asleep before you left." He gave the young woman a deprecating half smile.

"The doctor told you that sleep is the best medicine for you right now," Bonnie admonished. "I brought you some food, thinking you would be hungry by now, and hoping that having something in your stomach would help. Something a little more filling than soup today."

She could see the words of refusal forming on his lips, "You need to eat," she urged, with a touch of pleading in her voice. Was it so hard for him to believe that she wanted to see him well again?

Joe conceded, tired and growing irritable, not wanting to argue with her. He was telling himself he should be grateful that she had been taking care of him. A small voice in the back of his mind wanted to dispute that premise in tandem with his headache.

Bonnie arranged the pillows at the head of the bed, "Here, sit back against these, and I will hand what I have made to you. The food is still warm, but not enough to make the plate beneath it too hot to handle."

Joe did as he was told, but couldn't mask his discontentment as a chair was placed beside the bed. Following her continual movement about the room wasn't helping his headache. He was feeling uncomfortable that she intended to stay in the room, annoyance creeping into his voice, "You don't need to stay and watch me eat!"

"Nevertheless, I will be staying here until you do finish," she challenged, holding out a fork by the handle. "The objection you are firing at me from those lovely green eyes won't sway me, Joseph Dubois."

Joe snatched up the fork with a scowl, displeased that the woman wasn't about to give him the space that he craved and be allowed to consume his meal in peace.

"I brought a container of salt if you wish," Bonnie offered, smiling briefly to herself at his tantrum. It disappeared quickly as realism began to set in. He may need every ounce of that stubbornness to overcome his captivity and stay alive.

Joe turned his attention to the food, scrutinising what was on the plate as he listened to the simple list of ingredients. The aroma was certainly enticing enough to make him want to taste.

"Soft scrambled eggs with small pieces of diced bacon," she recited. "Should be easy on your stomach."

"There is nothing wrong with my stomach," Joe declared, plunging the metal tines into the soft yellow mound and extracting a mouthful.

Before he could demonstrate that to her, Joe inhaled sharply as images and a voice assailed his senses at the same time. The muscles of his jerking involuntarily and losing strength, causing the fork being held near his mouth to fall. It felt as though every breath in his lungs was being stolen.

"You had better hurry up and take your share of those eggs, Short Shanks, if you plan on having any breakfast this morning.'

Bonnie immediately stood up in alarm, reaching over and grabbing onto his hand, calling out his name, knowing that something was wrong. Surely he couldn't be choking on the food? The fork had hit the edge of the plate and bounced off, leaving a trail of yellow staining the bedclothes.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

She was about to race out of the room and find one of the men, but stopped when he tried to speak. Upon hearing the coarse, gasping noises escaping his throat, Bonnie handed him the glass of water, pleased to see him sipping on it rather than gulping the contents. She picked up the plate from his lap and the fork, setting them aside, as he moved to the edge of the bed, trying to regain his composure.

"I don't know what happened," he answered honestly, his voice sounding weak and strained.

Bonnie was about to say she didn't believe him, but saw that he was trying hard to concentrate. She went to take a hold of his arm in case he faltered, but he backed away from her and the bed, feeling off-balance and dizzy. Possibly from standing up too quickly and his headache, but clearly rattled.

"For a few seconds... it was like I was inside a dream," he hissed, pausing half way and shaking his head trying to clear the fog. "I was holding onto a plate, this hand was reaching out, trying to take it away from me, and a voice with no face started talking to me." He repeated the words as best he could recall them, before asking her a question.

"I hear this voice in my head, and I should know who it belongs to, but I don't?" he beseeched, becoming slightly more panicked and agitated that his memory was coming up blank again. He was continually second guessing every single word he heard spoken or that left his own mouth.

Any rational person should be able to remember his own name without being prompted. The people around him, claiming to know everything about him, he should be able to recognize who they were without any difficulty. Joe could no longer distinguish what day the week it was. Each time he had awoken with his head pounding, there was no way of tell if minutes or hours had passed by.

An indescribable sense of frustration was building up inside at having to justify his insecurities. "Why does everything feel out of place and disjointed? Joe took another step backwards away from her. Dozens of puzzle pieces that couldn't be put together to resemble any kind of normality.

Joe raise his hands, burying his fingertips into his hair, pulling and tugging, "You don't know what it is has been like," he shouted. "Looking into the mirror and not knowing the face that stares back in mockery. The only thing that blocks it out is the pain from these awful headaches, gnawing away at me night and day."

"Nobody round here seems to want to give me a straight answer...including you," he accused the woman. "You are hiding more than you are telling me. What I don't understand yet, is why you won't speak the truth."

"I am paid to be here by your father, to see that you are fed, provided with fresh clothes and tend to you as the doctor instructed, that is all you ever need to know," Bonnie remarked, unsure if he was even listening. Forced to swallow her deceit, scarcely able to withstand the allegation of how much she knew about him.

The headache plaguing him spiked yet again, causing him to take an unsteady step over to the bed, holding his head in his hands as he collapsed unceremoniously onto his side. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gently massaged his temples, whimpering as the pain multiplied exponentially.

"Let me help you," Bonnie soothed, encouraging him to rest, adjusting the pillows beneath his head. Any fight he had managed to scrape together was now gone, exacerbating his misery. Taking pity on him and seeing that he had lost any interest in food, she helped alter his position, hoping he would find some temporary respite.

After twenty minutes, she was relieved to see the handsome young man drift into a restless doze, his questions remaining unanswered. When he woke again, she may have to mix-up one of the pain powders that the doctor had prescribed, if his pain had not abated.

With the room now quiet, sitting here watching over him as he slept, Bonnie evaluated her whole position, trying to salvage any kind of future. How had she became embroiled in such an elaborate hoax? In the beginning it had been about money, and that is what she had told Edwards when he questioned her motivation. What were her choices now if wanted to change her mind and back out of this downright loathsome farce?

Was she really willing to tell Joe the full truth and be honest about her involvement in Seline's wicked scheme? Having spent time caring for him, she didn't want to see him hurt more or used as a pawn against his real father. And she definitely didn't want to see him killed because of one man's twisted vengeance.

When Joe awoke, maybe she could persuade him to escape with her, but that idea lost merit and wasn't a very viable alternative way out when she considered that he was suffering from headaches and huge lapses in his memory. In San Francisco, she knew of a few back streets and alleys, and people who would be willing to harbour them. As strangers in this city, New Orleans offered no safe haven for either of them to find sanctuary.

Going to the police wasn't a very good idea when she would be blamed for being actively involved in Joe's kidnapping in the first place. Marchant would blame his captivity and any injuries he inflicted on her. The man would have the financial means and connections to get away from the law without consequence. She wasn't fortunate enough to own firearm or sharp blade to defend themselves should Seline send out Edwards and Yeager in pursuit to bring them back.

Thinking hard about her own fate, if she was selfish enough to chance running away from Seline's insidious trickery, what would happen to Joe? There wasn't much time to devise a solution and she would have to be extremely careful. Any decision she made would affect more than her own life. Bonnie was headed for a trap and once caught in it, the cage door would be slammed shut. Neither of them would be able to break free or make it out alive.

---

Down on the docks of the waterfront:

A dark, dingy establishment with floors stained from decades of spilt cheap whiskey and reeking of stale cigar smoke. The tattered and stained curtains covering the windows were paper thin with age.

Mark Douglas stood at the bar, eyeing the shot of whiskey that the weather-beaten barkeep put in front of him. A coin was placed in payment and quickly snatched away.

Arriving in this city a few hours ago, losing track of how long it had taken to traverse the enormous distances, he was seeking a drink and then a hot meal. The clothes he currently wore didn't quite fit properly, with the waist of the long travel coat at the wrong height to suit his shorter frame than the previous owner.

Finding himself stranded at Peak's Crossing without a horse seemed like a lifetime ago. Without having a particular destination in mind, he knew there wouldn't be a job to go back to at the Ponderosa for him or Nichols. His luck had changed when he had borrowed a horse from an unsuspecting stranger and rode into San Francisco. Standing outside the city bank, he had been pondering what his next move might be when an opportunity presented itself.

A well dressed gentleman, carrying a medium sized travel bag, had exited the building but was distracted when he paused to talk with two other business men. The bag had been placed on the ground beside him, but Douglas had no trouble using the growing cluster of people walking past to mask his thievery. For someone who had spent most of his life counting four legs and a tail for the meagre wages of a cow-hand, his adeptness came naturally.

Education was not his forte, and he was no scholar when it came to book learning. He was limited to being able to read some and to make his mark when required. Ben had been mildly surprised and willingly hired him over other workers. Those basic smarts had gained him an additional measure of respect from Adam Cartwright. That courtesy would have turned to dust by now though, after being fired.

The distance before them and a lack of experienced riders to handle the temperamental animals, Douglas could assume that the drive would have come to an abrupt and unsatisfying end for the Ponderosa. Notwithstanding that pleasing outcome, he still owed that spoilt rich-kid, loud-mouthed Joe, a good hard punch in the nose.

Upon examining the contents, he had found a treasure trove of personal possessions, embossed envelopes, fancy letters and important business papers. His eyes had greedily settled on a leather bill-fold; with a large amount of real cash money tucked neatly inside. Everything he needed to take on a new name and make a new life for himself. The handkerchief in the pocket of his coat was embroidered with silver lettering and the initials, B.H.H.A.

There had been travel tickets inside for a ship departing San Francisco, a stage coach and a train, which he took full advantage of using to leave the city in haste. He had never been on a real train before and had relished the exciting new experience. The stagecoach had proven to be dusty and slow, and he had not enjoyed the other passengers he had encountered. The inside of the coach had been too cramped and he was forced to listen to the endless chatter about their dull lives.

For most of the journey, he found himself seated next to a larger lady who had drowned her clothes in an sickening, overly sweet perfume. The stench would linger for days on everything he carried. Next time he would ride and choose his own road.

There had been several telegrams inside addressed to the previous owner, talking about being invited to a big celebration in New Orleans. A name in fancy writing, matching the initials, Bartholomew Herbert Henry Adams was recorded on at least one page of those documents. There was an engraved silver pocket watch hanging on chain, with the engraved inscription, 'Love from your darling, Isabella'. He had no idea who the woman was and what she meant to the man, but cared even less and only seized upon it for the potential monetary value.

Maybe he wouldn't be able to pull off pretending to be this Adams person for very long, and he might run foul of the law, but for so far, no questions had been asked.

He was confident that nobody in this city knew his true identity. With fancy clothes, money and other expensive belongings, he could afford to climb up the ladder of society and experience what it must be like to live well. He could keep the cash, use the tickets to travel to new places and eventually trade anything left of value for things he could use, including a good horse.

Swallowing the last of the whiskey and intending to find a room to rent the night, wanting to make sure the alcohol erased the name Cartwright from his memory.

To be continued …...

Author Notes - After seeing the episode The Stranger I realise that the similarities with my Marchant Seline are in name only. The personality and mannerisms that I have adapted for him throughout this story are quite different to what is on the episode.

There is the mention of slaves being used in this work and people of colour. Please know that it is not done with any offence intended to any individuals or a specific race of people, but a desire to recreate what have happened in New Orleans during the 1860's. Any derogatory or insulting terms used are meant to portray those times when not everybody was considered equal. This chapter only contains a word or two, but following chapters will contain quite a few more references and situations.

Don't worry, Ben will get to find out about Rawlings knowing who Joe was before they met and not telling him. You haven't seen the last of that doctor yet. There is a whole lot more action to come, even though some have been waiting for Joe to be rescued. The ending that I wanted all those years ago I started this story didn't happen at the end of this chapter unfortunately. It was getting too long again.

There are a few new characters that I have introduced, and some of them have a particular speech pattern. Their words may be shortened, pronounced incorrectly or spoken with different enunciation to highlight ethnicity and language differences. I use a similar system for Hoss and Hop Sing in my writing. Officer Guillaume turned out quite different in personality to what I had originally planned.

And just who are Bartholomew Herbert Henry Adams, his family of brothers and Isabella you ask? Those details yet to be revealed too.

There were about three other places that I wanted to stop, and there is a lot more to hear about Rose's family and background. Although it has been a long time in being finished, I want to take my time to do it correctly and not be rushed. The next chapter shouldn't take so long to be published, but my muse has been letting me down since November.

To the people of New Orleans, I apologize for any details that I have wrong about your city. I did a lot of research, but also changed some details as needed.

With the boarding house in New Orleans, I used the historical description for a Creole House for the outside, but the layout and number of rooms inside are different to suit my plot. The action is only just getting started and everything is about to get a whole lot more complicated. This chapter took a long time to write, more than six months, for a number of reasons that nobody needs to hear about. Please know that I continue to work on all of my stories, old, new, being rewritten and yet to come for all my fandoms.

Thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think about all the additions and this new chapter.

Jules6