NOW:

Sunday unfolded quickly and quietly.

There was breakfast and then church. Sitting among a collection of townsfolk and three of his sons, Ben could not help noting both Adam and Roy Coffee had skipped Minister Joe's sermon. It was not a shock for Coffee to be absent; the man had never been known to spend his Sunday mornings sitting in a pew. However, Ben was slightly surprised he did not see Adam; as a newly elected law official, it would have been a prime opportunity to quietly declare his authority to those who may have remained unaware of his sudden placement. Though, it was highly unlikely there was anyone left in town who had not heard about Adam. Even if they had no personal recollection of him, they recognized his last name. They knew he was Ben's son; they knew he had returned to Virginia City at Coffee's behest; and they knew Ben had voted against him.

The information had spread through the town like wildfire; there was no containing it. The tale of the sudden reappearance of the missing eldest Cartwright son and his father's subsequent reaction was too alluring to be silenced. Ben did his best to ignore the talk circling around him when his back was turned, something that was much easier said than done; it was an intention that was only truly attainable by remaining out of sight and town.

In a way, Ben was relieved Adam had not attended the church service. It was better if they did not cross paths in public. Not wanting to react out of anger or frustration once more, he wanted to give both his son and himself time to think before they spoke again. Even so, they did not have a lot of time at their disposal for such things.

The hours that passed between when Ben and Adam had interacted in front of the hotel and the hour in which they would sit around the Cartwright family table for Sunday dinner seemed to be fewer than Ben wished they had. He found himself dreading the eight o'clock hour; it was a sentiment that was not shared among his younger sons.

Jamie's mood was decidedly uninfluenced by their impending dinner guest; his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. If the lingering foulness of his expression was to be interpreted as a clue of what, then Ben was certain Jamie was still sulking over the conversation they had shared the evening prior and the punishment that had come after.

Ben was neither regretful nor downcast about the things he had said to his youngest child. After all, he had warned Jamie of what was to come if he did not follow instruction. He was, however, slightly somber about the punishment he had chosen. He had neither hesitated nor harbored guilt when, in their younger days, his other sons' bad behavior had demanded a more physical response. But with Jamie he felt both.

Maybe it was the newness of their father-son relationship that made a tanning seem a little too harsh in hindsight. Maybe it was Jamie's age; fifteen was a little late—and a little old—to experience such a punishment for seemingly the first time. Or maybe it was something else altogether. Whatever it was, Ben had resigned himself not to think about it. He had too many other things demanding his full attention.

Settling behind his desk in the early evening, he filled his glass with brandy and his pipe with tobacco, hoping that both would serve to calm his thoughts and nerves as he awaited Adam's arrival and covertly watched and listened to his present sons from afar.

"I still can't believe it!" Little Joe exclaimed. Foot propped up on the outermost edge of the fireplace's hearth, he planted his palms on his knee, and leaned over, warming himself in front of the flame. "Our brother, the Sheriff of Virginia City. Who'da thought the day he left he'd come back like this?"

"It ain't that odd, Joe." Sitting on the settee, Hoss was quick to reply as he cast his younger brother a warning glance, tilting his head at Jamie who had been forced to take up residence at the table near the staircase where the completion of his homework could be easily verified and supervised.

If Joe noted Hoss's prompt to watch his words with regards to their eldest brother while in the company of their youngest one, it was a suggestion that was ignored.

"I'm not saying it's odd, brother," Joe said. "I'm saying I never would have thought of it. I couldn't have even dreamt of such a thing. I mean, years ago it might have seemed more likely than it does now, given how much belief in the firmness of the law he had. The way he was always sticking up for folks who couldn't stick up for themselves. There's something about him doing it now that's a bit surprising."

"It ain't that surprising," Hoss said.

Looking at Hoss, Joe cast him a look that seemed to contradict the statement. "How so?" he asked.

"For the same reasons you already said. He's strong, pious, and dependable—"

"He was," Joe said.

"He still is. There's just some things about a man that time don't change."

"I don't believe that," Joe disagreed.

Eyes darting upward from his homework, Jamie looked between his brothers. "Why?" he asked innocently.

It was a question that seemed to surprise both Hoss and Joe, as it was the first moment Jamie seemed to express any interest in the brother he remained unacquainted with. Joe and Hoss traded a glance, each seemingly asking the other if the question should be answered.

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Come on, guys," he said. "It's not like I don't have anybody else to ask about him. You should feel lucky I'm asking the two of you."

"Like who?" Joe snorted.

"Like, my friends," Jamie said.

"Oh, and I'll bet they just know everything there is to know about anything you could possibly think of," Joe said.

"They know more about him than you think they do," Jamie spat. "And so do I."

"Like what?" Hoss asked. "If'n you're wanting us to answer your question about Adam, then answer mine first."

Jamie shifted his stubborn gaze to Hoss. "I know he left without warning, no good-bye or nothing. He just picked up and never came back."

"That ain't exactly true," Hoss said. "What else?"

"I know he was smart," Jamie added. "I know that the people who knew him thought good of him until..." Mouth hanging open, he hesitated, the stubborn glint in his eyes transforming into reluctance.

"Until what?" Joe asked seriously.

"Until…" Jamie looked at his homework. "I know there was a cousin," he added, his courage seemingly abandoning him with the words he had originally planned to say. "And a woman they fought over. I know there was an accident. Something terrible happened and that's what made him run away from home."

"Adults don't run away from home," Ben grunted, his sudden interjection taking his sons by surprise.

Looking at their father, Hoss and Joe's expressions were set with twin regret over being caught speaking about things they knew he refused to. Jamie did not share his brothers' compunction.

Lips curled around the end of his pipe, Ben's gaze did not wander from Jamie as he addressed the question that Hoss previously refused to. "One way or another, they choose to leave, and that's what Adam did. There are some hints of truth hiding in what you've heard about him, some falsehoods, too. There was a cousin; he and Adam did not get along."

"And the accident?" Jamie pressed.

Ben hesitated, not knowing exactly who he was trying to protect with his silence. Who benefited more if he withheld the truth? Jamie, or Adam? Or neither? Or both?

Was it fairer to allow Jamie to come to his own conclusions about what kind of man his brother was without his opinion being distorted by the past? Or was it crueler for him to have to find out on his own? Was it fair to Adam to share with Jamie his opinions on the past without ever having had a proper conversation with Adam about those events?

They had not talked about it, Ben thought mournfully. Because Adam had left before they were allotted a chance. Oh, but they had argued. They had argued so damn much in the months that led up to that fateful day. And then Adam was gone and their communication had ceased completely.

"It don't really matter what happened back then," Hoss said to Jamie. "All that matters is what we make of it right now. Right now, your oldest brother is back and happens to be the law in these parts. You're gonna respect him by minding his authority as the sheriff of our town; and you're going to act as a good brother to him by not speaking unkindly behind his back. Given time, you'll get to know him, and, once you do, I'm sure you can ask him whatever you want about the past and he'll tell you the truth."

"Or he won't talk to you about it at all," Ben said gruffly, his anger beginning to creep in once more. "If I were a betting man, that's the outcome I would stake."

"Pa," Hoss warned.

Taking a sip of his brandy, Ben grunted into his glass. He should not have said what he did; his guilt came quick, overpowering everything else. He could not protect any of his sons with remarks like that; they would not solve anything. They only promised to make things worse.

"Maybe Adam will talk to you about the past, Jamie," Ben added, his tone softening. "Maybe you'll be the one he finally decides to be honest with."

"You never talked about it?" Jamie asked. "I don't know if I believe that. The way this family talks to each other all the time; y'all talk more than anyone else I've ever seen." Shaking his head, he closed his books and stacked them into a tidy pile on the edge of the table. "I got chores," he added as he stood.

Looking at Joe, Hoss tilted his head at Jamie. "Joe, why don't you help him?"

"Why?" Joe chuckled.

"Will you just go? I wanna to talk to Pa."

Seeming to note the seriousness of Hoss's expression, Joe pulled his foot off the fireplace and followed Jamie toward the door. Watching them go, Hoss did not move until they had disappeared behind the closed door. Then, he stood, shoved his hands in his front pockets, walked lazily toward his father's desk, and sat on the edge. Peering at his father, he did not readily speak; he seemed to be taking time to gather his thoughts.

"Out with it," Ben prompted eventually, when it began to seem as though his son would never speak.

"I was just wondering what your intentions tonight were. If'n you were wantin' Adam to come for dinner because you wanted an opportunity to make him endure your anger, or if you are lookin' at it as a new beginning."

"I do not intend to be angry."

"That don't mean you won't be. You know, Pa, you always taught us that anger and regret were useless emotions. They cloud your thoughts and your judgement; they make you say and do things you wouldn't normally want to."

"I know."

"You also taught us that time was a good thing; it could soothe even the most powerful of pains and heal the deepest wounds."

"I know that, too."

"Then what's the problem?"

It was such a straightforward and simple question; it was the answer that was difficult and elusive. "It's complicated," Ben said.

"No, it ain't. It's the simplest thing in the world. Adam left and now he's come back. All those years you spent missin' him and wanting him back, and now that you've finally been given the thing you wanted most, you don't know what to do with it."

"I never wanted him like this; I didn't raise him to become what he has."

"I seem to recall this was an ongoing disagreement between the two of you before he left. Wasn't that one of the things Adam said to you, Pa? That the only way you wanted to see him is if he presented himself as something you agreed with."

"No," Ben denied as Hoss's erroneous statement unearthed the memory of the correct one.

The only way you can love me is if I'm who you want me to be, was what Adam had said, and he had not stopped there. He had added that Ben only wanted him to have the things he himself could provide. That, in the Ponderosa, he built an empire where he held his adult sons captive, never allowing them futures that would be granted without his approval. He had said other things, too, each increasingly contemptible and odious, hurtful and factitious. Adam had said so much, and then, for the years that followed, he said nothing at all.

"He accused me of not seeing the situation clearly," Ben admitted quietly. "He questioned my loyalty to him; he refuted my love for him."

"And what did you say to him?" Hoss softly probed.

Cringing, Ben chewed on the end of his pipe and cast his son a wary glance. The last conversation he and Adam had shared had been so wounding, so deliberately deleterious—on both sides. It was not as though he had not said things, too, Ben lamented. He was far from innocent in how the past had unfolded. Even so, it did not seem right to speak to Hoss about such things.

"You don't want to talk about it with me or anyone else," Hoss said knowingly. "I understand that, Pa. I really do. But you obviously need to talk to someone, and, right now, I'm the only one offering. So why don't you just take a deep breath, think about what it is about this situation with Adam that is really bothering you the most. It can't only be the way that he left and how he came back. There's more to it than that. I can tell by the way it's wearing on you. I'm sure it wears on him, too."

The kindness of Hoss's words seemed to cast a callous shadow upon Ben's own. He did not want to talk about the past; he did not want to hold on to it the way he did. There was little point in dwelling upon it, no purpose in talking about it, because there was nothing that could be done to fix what had happened.

"You know, Pa," Hoss added. "I figure it was easier not to think about what happened when Adam was gone. Now that he's back, there's a lot about what took place between him, Will, Laura ,and that little itty-bitty gal that we're all gonna have to come to accept. It's not going to be easy for anyone."

Peggy, Ben thought, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, his chest heaving with deep regret. What had taken place between the adults surrounding her had been terrible; still what had happened to her had been infinitely worse. It was a horrifying situation; one which he had not helped.

"Hoss," Ben said. "I know I had a hand in driving Adam away from home, but I do not know what kept him away, and I do not know what he's trying to accomplish by coming back."

"I know how you can know both of those things."

"How?"

"Ask Adam. There ain't no point in thinkin' the past to death. There's just about a thousand different reasons we can come up with for why people do what they do, but we'll never really know the truth unless we decide to directly ask." Hoss shrugged. "You don't have to ask Adam any questions tonight. All you gotta do is keep your temper in check and…" Pausing, he grinned knowingly. "Maybe stay in the same room with him for longer than five minutes."

Brows furrowing, Ben waved his hand dismissively. "Get," he ordered.

Chuckling, Hoss resettled on the settee. Leaning back in his chair, Ben took a series of long drags from his pipe. Hoss was right. One could not hope for an untroubled future while allowing the difficulties of the past to influence their decisions. Remaining angry at Adam for something that had happened years ago served no real purpose. It was not going to help anything. It was going to hurt, hindering whatever relationship they were capable of having. There was no way to know the specific nature of what this relationship would be. Would they act as father and son, friends, mere acquaintances, or strangers?

One thing would remain stagnant regardless of how they chose to interact with one another: the future demanded they find common ground somewhere, a way to tolerate or accept each other. Adam was the sheriff, neither his presence nor authority could be ignored. As Hoss had told Jamie, their oldest brother was a man to be respected, regardless of what anyone had to say about the decisions he had made in the past. And there would be a plethora of talk, hushed whispers traded among the few townsfolk who remembered Adam and therefore thought they knew more about the events that drove him away from home than they actually did. That would be difficult enough to endure; Adam did not need his own family members to reject his authority or look upon it with contention.

Of course, Adam had not needed his family's support when he decided to leave home or when he made the decision to return. Bitter and biting, this was a thought Ben could not prevent.

No, he thought. Pulling his pipe from his mouth, he held it tightly in one hand and pressed the thumb of his opposite over the bowl. Starving the burning flame of vitalizing oxygen, he forced himself to extinguish all his negative feelings towards and judgements against his oldest son.

Adam had left. But he was back now. This was the only thing that should be allowed to truly matter.

The time that had passed between them should be meaningless now. It was better not to focus on the past when the future suddenly seemed so important. There were still things to talk about, faults to be admitted, truths to be shared, and a moment for all of that would come. But it was not tonight, because tonight was reserved for something else—something Ben had never had the opportunity to experience before. A pleasant family dinner in the company of all four of his sons.

He only wished he was looking forward to it.

TBC