It was a magnificent morning. Brilliant bands of reds and pinks dominated the eastern sky, heralding a new dawn - the absolute promise of a beautiful day. The short procession moved slowly away from the ranch house, reluctant to begin this last, final journey. Ben forced his gaze from the wagon that lumbered ahead of his buggy; instead he looked out over the countryside. As far as the eye could see, Cartwright land. The Ponderosa. So much promise… Ben's weary countenance suddenly twisted in agony, as the ache in his chest became almost unbearable. He couldn't seem to breathe. Gasping, he sucked in air, only to find his throat blocked.

"Pa…" Big strong hands reached across to clasp his own. "Pa, take it easy. Slow, deep breaths."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Ben swallowed against the tightness in his throat, a tightness that threatened to suffocate him. He took a tentative breath, attempting to feed his near-empty lungs.

"That's better." Hoss spoke calmly, reassuringly.

Not trusting his voice yet, Ben looked intently at the son seated next to him. So much anguish in those kind blue eyes. A son lost. A brother taken. More unfulfilled promises… Sighing, he felt his own tortured features soften as he gave Hoss's hands a loving squeeze. Then, leaning forward, Ben grasped Joe's shoulder momentarily. Pulling back on the reins slightly, Joe turned to Hoss and his father.

Recalling Hop Sing's succoring words, Ben mustered some conviction, promising his remaining two sons, "Somehow, boys… Somehow we'll get through this. Together as a family." Looking ahead at the heavy wagon bearing his oldest to his final resting-place, Ben continued, his full, rich voice now ragged with emotion. "That's what Adam would want us to do."

Blinking several times, Joe turned forward abruptly and snapped the reins, whistling softly through his teeth, urging the team forward.

"Why don't you try 'n rest a bit, Pa. It'll take us most of 'n hour ta git to…" Biting his lower lip, Hoss let the words trail off. "Well, it'll be 'n hour or so at least."

Sagging against the bench in the back of the buggy, Ben watched the ribbons of color along the eastern horizon disappear, replaced by golden hues of the rising sun. The early morning light exposed the finest details of the terrain and vegetation, a precision only revealed on occasion either in the early morning or early evening hours. Two days ago everything had been so right. Now nothing…nothing was right. The clarity was overpowering. No longer able to look at the magnificent bounty of his land, Ben closed his eyes.

The gentle rolling of the buggy and the warmth from the sun coaxed Ben to sleep. Hoss watched his father lean back and close his eyes. He knew his father had to be exhausted. None of them had slept after the wake. Hell, nobody had slept since…since the barn had burned down and they'd found the body. Maybe for now, just for this brief moment, his father could forget. Hoss bowed his head, folded his hands, and prayed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He was exhausted. Thirsty too, but more tired than thirsty. He was getting too old for this kind of work. Next time, save it for my boys, he thought. Must've been a long hard day judging from the aches in his neck and back. Moving carefully, he arched his back and gently rolled his head from side to side, trying to undo the painful knots. Slowly he lowered himself into the chair by the fireplace and surrendered to the comforting warmth of the fire. Just for a moment he would rest his eyes, rest his body, and wait. Hmmm… Wait? What was he waiting for? His memory was so fuzzy. That bothered him. Furrowing his brow, he struggled to remember. Adam? Was that it? Was it Adam he was waiting for? After a moment of deliberation he decided that must be it. Yes, of that much he was sure. He was waiting for his son, Adam, to return home.

He was so tired; it would be easy to succumb to sleep. But he must not fall asleep. Even in his muddled mind, he knew that. But why? Fierce concentration, still no viable recollection. Well, then there was no other choice. He would just have to stay awake. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the orange flames dancing in the hearth. Instead he encountered only darkness. Blinking several times, he tried again. Still black. And the room was no longer warm. It was downright cold. So cold the chill had settled deep in his bones.

He must have fallen asleep. For how long? And he'd let the fire die. God, did I miss Adam coming home? Pushing himself up stiffly from the chair, Ben stumbled forward toward where he thought the hearth should be. It was gone. Bewildered, he spun around, searching for the giant hearth. Searching for anything familiar in his home. Damn it was dark.

"Pa… Help me, Pa. Please."

The words were so faint; he almost couldn't hear them. He was pretty sure it was Adam's voice. Cocking his head, he listened intently. Praying to hear more, find out what direction they came from.

"Pa. I need you, Pa."

Damn, it was Adam. His voice was so weak; it sounded so far away. He couldn't tell what direction it was coming from.

"Adam!" Ben hissed. "Adam, where are you, son? Say something else, tell me where you are." Ben waited, not daring to breathe, listening desperately for his son's voice again. Finally, unable to stand still any longer, Ben lurched forward in the darkness. Arms outstretched, feeling nothing but emptiness of the black void, he ran blindly, without direction.

"Adam! Where are you, boy? Adam… Adam, I'm here for you. Come home, son…"

"Pa! Pa, wake up! You're having a bad dream."

Startled by the new voice, Ben's eyes shot open as he sat forward. Almost blinded by the brilliance of the sun, he instinctively hooded his eyes with his hand, squinting until they adjusted to the light. Slowly he lowered his hand. He was in the buggy. The buggy was standing still. Hoss was hovering over him, his face full of concern. And Joseph had squeezed into the back seat, his boyish features also pinched with worry.

"What's wrong, boys?" Almost before the question had passed his lips, realization came hurtling back, nearly crushing Ben with its intensity.

"God, I'm sorry, Hoss. Joseph." Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth. After a long moment, Ben's jaw finally relaxed. Eyes still closed, head still heavenward, Ben whispered. "Almighty God, it was so real. I heard him, I heard his voice."

Heaving a great sigh, Ben opened his eyes and looked at his sons. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to worry you two. I guess there's no rest for the weary, is there, boys." Looking away, Ben saw the wagon carrying the casket was stopped also. Hop Sing, along with his foreman, Charlie, sat patiently on the high buckboard seat, waiting. Turning to look behind, Ben saw the hands trailing on their horses waited patiently too.

"Looks like we're about there, doesn't it?" Ben commented as he recognized familiar landmarks. "Let's get 'em moving again, Joseph."

Joe nodded and climbed back into the front of the buggy. Without words or signals, the tiny procession journeyed as one toward the gravesite. And as the day unfolded, the sun continued its own trek across the faultless blue expanse. Both entities resolute as to their ends, each course immutable.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The radiant pinks of the dawn had promised nothing less than a spectacular day. That promise had been kept. Ben acknowledged the irony. He stood alone at the edge of the lake, wanting some distance between himself and the small group gathering by his son's grave, putting off the inevitable as long as he could. It was still early; a warm breeze from the south was just picking up, ruffling the water's surface with endless tiny wavelets, each catching and reflecting sunlight. The result was a pandemonium of undulating points of white light.

Mesmerized, Ben nodded absently. He approved. There wasn't a more beautiful spot on earth. Adam did love this place, and he wouldn't be alone; he'd be with Marie… Until it was Ben's time to join them both. The pain welled up in his chest again. Wrapping his arms tightly around his chest, Ben tried to swallow the lump he found now lodged permanently in his throat. Dammit! No more gnashing teeth or wringing hands, he promised himself willfully. Adam was gone. There was a body in that casket to prove it, wasn't there? No amount of wishing, dreaming, or hoping was ever going to change that.

Still… It was so hard to let go. He would try to move on, for Hoss, for Joseph. But this…this had crushed something deep inside of him. Somehow, three times before, he'd made his peace with God after each of his beloved wives had been taken from him. But when was enough, enough? His beautiful son gone, his young life so quickly and cruelly snuffed out. Why, in God's name? Why?

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. Turning, he found himself face to face with his dear friend, Roy Coffee.

"It's time, Ben." The kind old eyes were red-rimmed. "I'm so sorry, Ben. I'm just so sorry…" Turning away from the tranquility and beauty of the lake, the two old friends walked shoulder to shoulder back up the bank to the grave.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A small group of Adam Cartwright's closest and dearest friends stood together in a half-circle behind Ben, Hoss, and Joe. Adam's freshly dug grave sat on the knoll next to Marie's; the sparkling blue lake surrounded by the towering Sierra's formed the backdrop.

"Dearest family and friends of Adam Cartwright, we are gathered here today…" The Reverend John McClain began this final chapter in Ben's oldest son's short life. As the Reverend prayed and promised that his child, his first-born, was now in a better place, Ben watched Hoss and Joe, along with Charlie and Roy Coffee, lowered the pecan casket into the waiting hole. Ben's promise at the lake was quickly forgotten. Tears filled his dark eyes, spilling silently down his face. God, it broke his heart to see his two young sons bury their brother. It was worse than he'd imagined. And how was that even possible? He was starting to have trouble breathing again. His eyelids fluttered and he felt the ground give way beneath his feet.

"Whoa there, Ben." Strong hands steadied him, an arm wrapped around his shoulders supporting him. "Through your mouth - long, deep breaths. Just lean on me."

Ben recognized Doc Martin's voice. Nodding, Ben put all his weight against Paul and concentrated on trying to stay standing. One breath at a time - in, out. Damn, when did it get so hard to breathe? Instinctively Ben rubbed the ache in his chest as he struggled to regain his composure.

"Ben, let me give you something. Something to settle your nerves, help with the pain."

Shaking his head adamantly, Ben took a couple of deep breaths before speaking. "No, Paul. I appreciate what you're trying to do. But the pain… It's all I have left." Looking at the open grave, he finished softly. "It's all I've got left of my son."

Paul stepped back as Hoss and Joe returned to stand by their father. Both boys moved in close, took their father's arm and rested it on theirs. Ben was so proud of them at that moment. He knew how much this hurt them, and now, here they stood, so straight and tall. Adam would have been proud too. Ben stared across the lake to the peaks and let his mind drift. He remembered his bright, beautiful boy. On the edges of his consciousness, he could just hear Reverend McClain reading a Bible verse.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteous

For his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil, for though art with me…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Amelia manhandled the team and buggy into the clearing, past the grove of poplars, pulling up next to the other rigs and teams. She pushed her stylish black hat back into place, smoothed her tousled hair, and then took another moment to rearrange the black netting that covered her eyes and the top of her nose.

"Well, that ought to do it." She put the brake on and looped the reins around the brake handle. "I hope I'm not too late. It took longer to get here than I thought." Gathering up the layers of black ruffles and skirts, she jumped agilely from the buggy. Spying the small group of mourners, Amelia scurried across the clearing to join them.

She stopped about ten yards short, unsure of funeral protocol. Interrupting a prayer was surely a no-no. All the mourners had their backs to her, their heads bowed. Cocking her head to one side, she listened to the preacher drone on. She smiled hearing the lovely things he was saying about Adam, her intended. She waited. Waited for the prayer to end, finally tapping her tiny booted foot impatiently. "Hmph. It's taking much too long. Ben needs me now. He must be heart-broken."

Once more she touched her hat to insure it sat properly on her head, smoothed her full skirts, and then, as an afterthought, adjusted her low-cut bodice. She pulled up on the plunging neckline until she was satisfied. Just the right amount of décolletage was always important, no matter what the occasion. Smiling her most charming smile, Amelia pushed through the mourners.

"Excuse me. Excuse me," she whispered loudly. "I need to get up front with my, um, I mean, Adam's family. Excuse me." She pushed her way forward, getting no resistance, only surprised and shocked stares as she passed. Only Ben Cartwright and The Reverend McClain seemed oblivious to the murmuring among the little group.

"Now jest where do you think yer going, Missy," Sheriff Coffee whispered as softly as he could, grabbing the slippery black satin sleeve covering Amanda's arm. With practiced ease of a saloon girl, Amelia slipped through his grasp, and moved neatly right next to Hoss.

"Well howdy, Hoss." She flashed some teeth. "I'm just broken-hearted about your brother." She sniffed a few times and dabbed at her eyes under the netting with a lacey black hankie.

Hoss was dumbfounded at first, watching her push her way through Adam's friends. But his bewilderment quickly turned. His eyes narrowed, Hoss snagged her wrist, and pulled her close. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed.

Amelia eyes widened, her mouth dropped open in absolute shock. She looked to Ben for help, but saw his eyes were closed, his head bowed, lost in another place altogether. Past Ben, Amelia could see the hate burning in Little Joe's eyes. How could she have been so wrong?

The fire that had burned in Hoss since his brother's death had burned slowly, under his careful control, now flared dangerously. What absolute nerve! Adam hadn't liked her; he'd only tried to be kind to her. That was Adam's way with people. How could she come here, to Adam's funeral, pretending to be his brother's friend? Hell, her brother, David, was the one responsible for killing Adam. He wouldn't let her disrupt Adam's funeral any further, upset his father. Still holding her wrist firmly, Hoss tried to push her away from the grave, away from his father, away from Adam. But the satin was slippery and Amelia was even slipperier. Deftly, she slid free and rushed toward Ben.

"Mr. Cartwright. It's me, Amelia Fairchild. A close, close friend…well, more than a friend even…" The words tumbled out, one on top of the other, afraid she wouldn't be able to explain everything to Ben before Hoss or Sheriff Coffee grabbed her and dragged her off again.

The commotion finally broke through Ben's trance. Looking up, he turned toward Amelia's voice, tried to concentrate on what she was saying, tried to figure out who was speaking.

"So you see, Mr. Cartwright, I need to be here. Be here with you and your family…"

Hoss and Joe both moved to block Amelia from their father. Hoss grabbed her wrist again and was pulling her away as she reached out to touch Ben's hand. For just a moment her fingers found Ben's hand. Ben staggered, suddenly dizzy, disoriented. The lake, the mountains, the expansive blue sky spun out of sight, replaced by snatches of his dream – a cold, dark, emptiness, his dead son's desperate pleas.

As fast as the images came, they vanished. Hoss and Joseph held him upright, steady. The sky, the lake, the grave settled back into their proper places. Roy had a firm grip on Amelia and was escorting her back to her buggy.

"Ben. Ben, are you all right?"

Still shaky and confused, Ben leaned on his sons. "Yes, Reverend. I'll be okay."

"I'd like to continue with Adam's service, if that's all right with you."

"Yes, please. Continue."

The Reverend opened his Bible back to the Psalms, and continued with the service. Ben watched as Mother-Earth was thrown back into the grave over the casket, forever burying his child. Forever separating him from his precious son. Maybe Adam was gone, and certainly now nothing could bring him back…but someone would pay. Pay dearly for taking his son from him.