NOW:

Ben awoke early Sunday morning to find the air cool and the sky dreary.

A congregation of dark clouds had gathered above, threatening to spill their inevitable raindrops. They held onto them for hours before finally letting them go, the timing of the drizzle coming in perfect conjunction with the Cartwrights trip into Virginia City. It was raining in earnest by the time the family arrived, raindrops falling around them in increasing volume and speed. It was by far the most intense downpour Ben could recall in recent memory, and if he had not been traveling into town for such a specific purpose, he would not have dared saddling his horse. But today was important, at least that was what Jamie had said. With his conversation with Adam resting heavily on his heart, Ben was not quite sure.

It was not that he did not like being told to conceal his reactions or feelings. He did not like the idea that Adam was so intimidated by whoever was arriving on the stage that he felt the need to shape their interaction in such a way. Surely any impulsive reactions Ben could express would reflect more poorly on himself than his son. This was a thought that inevitably led him to wonder what Adam had to be afraid of.

Standing strong in the face of Ben's belligerence since the day he had returned, Adam had never felt the need to defend or protect himself. Having already successfully weathered his father's adverse attentions, it did not seem likely he would suddenly become concerned with such a thing. To Ben, it did not make sense. Though it did not need to. After all, he had made a promise, and he intended to keep it, no matter how strange it seemed. And besides, the peculiarity of the request seemed unimportant when considering the request in its entirety.

Adam may not have wanted to speak about or an apology for the past, but he did want his father to be present when the stage arrived. It was an opportunity Ben did not intend to refuse or squander. He had already wasted so much time; he could not allow himself to waste anymore.

The thoroughfare was nearly empty. The townsfolk were either attending church or the unfriendly weather had deterred them from exiting their homes, it seemed. Whatever had kept them from collecting on the boardwalk to await the stage or witness the Cartwrights gathered beneath the overhang of the Sheriff's Office, Ben was grateful for it. Lord knew there did not need to be any more whispers about his family shared around town.

"Do you think it'll be on time?" Jamie asked. Pulling on the corners of his coat sleeves as they hung a little too high over his hands, he looked between Hoss and Joe. His hat was soaked, the brim of it curled slightly downward by the weight of the water it had absorbed.

"Don't know," Hoss said.

"Hard telling with this weather," Joe said. Stepping away from the group, he strode toward the door of the sheriff's office. "I wonder where Adam is," he added, the statement meant for no one in particular. He reached for the doorknob and frowned as it refused to turn. "It's locked."

"Of course, it's locked," Jamie said. "It's early, and he doesn't live in there, you know."

"No," Joe said contemplatively. "I guess, I didn't."

"He lives in a house on Kay Street," Jamie said.

"In a house on Kay Street," Hoss echoed thoughtfully. "I wonder what in the world made him want to be over there."

"The houses all look different from the outside," Jamie explained. "They got fences separating the yards. It's close enough to main street, and the schoolhouse. With Miss Daisy moving her outfit next to the saloon, it's a quiet street."

Ben's brows rose. "What do you know about Miss Daisy's?" he asked.

Shrugging, Jamie refused to look Ben in the eye. "Nothin'."

"That better be true," Ben warned. It was obvious it wasn't, but there was nothing to be done about that now. He hoped the boy's knowledge of the brothel didn't extend beyond adolescent curiosity and the exterior of the building.

"Howdy, Ben."

Turning around, Ben found Roy Coffee standing a few paces away and frowned. "Where did you come from?" he asked.

"Oh, just out and about." Coffee looked at the puddles of rain gathering in the thoroughfare. "Interestin' weather we seem to be having. I wonder if it'll slow the stage."

"That's what I was wondering," Jamie said. "Have you seen Adam yet?"

Coffee shook his head. "Nah. I'm sure he'll be along, though." He looked at Ben knowingly. "I heard you went for a ride last night," he said, low quiet words for only them to hear. "And seeing how you're here today, I take it things went well. I won't pretend I'm not pleased."

Brows furrowing beneath the brim of his hat, Ben wondered when Coffee and Adam would have had time to speak about the ride. They had not left the trailhead until after dark. His own journey home had extended into the early morning hours; Adam's ride was bound to have taken even longer.

"Well, as long as you're pleased," Ben grunted.

"I mean it," Coffee said. "Though he won't act like it, Adam's gonna be relieved to see you. It's important that you're here, that you finally came around."

"Mornin'."

This time it was Adam's greeting that prompted Ben to turn around.

"Heya, boys," Adam added, looking upon his brothers as he joined the group. His eyes found his father's and he nodded. "Pa." Then he looked at Coffee and frowned. "Who invited you?"

"Well," Coffee drawled, "seein' as I am the facilitator of this here family reunion, I reckon I'm just always invited. It's kinda an honorary thing, you see."

"Honorary thing," Adam repeated.

"Yes, sir." Coffee nodded at the door of the building. "Now, will you please do us a kindness and unlock that door, so that coffee can be made and a fire can be built."

"Making coffee and building fires." Adam grinned. "That sounds like the kind of work fitting of a deputy to me."

"Is that an offer?" Coffee asked dryly.

"Maybe." Unlocking the door to the office, Adam opened it wide, then turned and looked at Coffee again. "You're here every damn day, anyway. And after all, a man does need a purpose. There isn't anything worse than one who believes he's outlived his usefulness. You're plenty useful, and besides I know and trust you. You and I both know, if I have to take on a man, it has to be someone I can trust. I don't reckon there's a lot of those in these parts, at least not at the current time."

Coffee nodded knowingly.

Ben had a fleeting feeling the statement had been said before. There was something lurking in both their eyes, a hint of something neither would dare say outright. It was a moment that suddenly felt wrong to witness, a private conversation better had behind a closed door.

"Come on," Ben said, ushering Hoss, Joe, and Jamie inside the door. "Today we'll make the youngin start the fire and make the coffee," he added, much to Jamie's chagrin. He was careful to shut the door behind them, a decision that seemed to garner confusion from his other sons as they stared, first at him then among themselves. "Just because we have come to await the stage, that does not give us the right to inject ourselves into the sheriff's affairs," he grunted.

The explanation was as reasonable as it sounded. Still, it was not enough to dismiss his own curiosity. He could not help wondering if Coffee would accept Adam's offer, and what such an arrangement would mean for them both.

"Do I really have to build a fire?" Jamie asked.

"Little Brother," Hoss said, "You do not, but I reckon with the weather being so bad outside, you'd be doing Adam a favor if you did."

Jamie was skeptical. "He ain't gonna stick around this office," he countered. "Not today. Why do you think Roy Coffee showed up? Obviously, he came to hang around here while Adam cuts out and deals with his particulars."

Hoss and Joe's expressions contorted with confusion.

"What do you know about Adam's particulars?" Joe asked.

"And what do you mean by that anyhow?" Hoss added.

Jamie shrugged as though the answer was obvious. "I just mean that, when the stage rolls in, he's going to have other things to deal with outside of his job. Things are about to get really complicated for him. Roy Coffee knows that; that's why he's here. That's why he's been after Adam to hire a deputy, which he ain't ever gonna do."

"And why's that?" Ben asked. He was as taken aback by Jamie's knowledge of Adam's affairs as his other sons seemed to be. The three of them looked among each other, each searching for something to verify or invalidate what the boy had said.

"He doesn't trust deputies," Jamie said simply. "Says he's never known one who didn't stab him in the back."

"Did he tell you that?" Joe asked. "How do you—?"

The question died on Joe's lips as the ruckus outside began. The morning precipitation had left the thoroughfare muddied and lubricous, intensifying the sounds of the stage as it approached. Loud and disrupting, its arrival could neither be missed or ignored.

There was no reason to deny the inevitable. Falling into line with his sons, Ben stepped out of the sheriff's office and found Roy Coffee waiting to enter it. He hung back as his sons followed Adam across the thoroughfare and toward the awaiting stage.

"So, are you a deputy now?" Ben asked.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Coffee grinned. "Your son is a very persuasive man when he wants to be."

"Judging by the fact that he came around to your suggestion of taking on a deputy at all, so are you."

"Well, I won't try to deny that. Of course, once you see who's come on that stage, you'll understand why I was pushing him so hard. He's gonna need the help, whether he wants to take it or not. You remember that as time moves forward, along with something else. What drove him away from you years ago is only half of the story. The last six years he's been living a whole 'nother life; it didn't come without its fair share of heartaches and challenges. He ain't the man he was when he left; he's a better one. In time you'll see that, if you don't already."

"He didn't want to come back." As soon as the statement had left his lips, Ben was wondering why it had been said.

"Oh, Ben," Coffee drawled. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Play yourself for such a goddamn fool. You and Adam are more alike than the two of you will ever care to admit. After all, haven't you ever gotten mad and said things you don't mean?"

Shifting his gaze, Coffee appraised the sky. The rain which had spilled so violently had finally stopped, allowing the clouds to part and a hint of sun to peek through.

"It looks like we're in for a beautiful day after all." Looking at Ben, Coffee smiled. "I know Adam said he didn't want to come back, but that don't change the fact that he is here. That doesn't seem like it should mean a whole lot with the way things stand, but, trust me, it will." He tilted his head at the stage encouragingly. "Follow your son's lead, Ben, cross the street and make peace with how your family has changed. It ain't the same as it once was, but that doesn't mean it can't be good again."

"Well, considering Adam doesn't want to talk about the past or an apology, I suppose it's the least I can do. I can't make the past right, but I can make the future as peaceful as possible."

And crossing the thoroughfare, Ben promised himself he would uphold the vow. He would do whatever was needed to make things better than they currently were.

Rounding the back of the stagecoach, he cast his gaze upon the girl standing in front of Adam and stopped abruptly. Though the passing years had changed her, straightened the teeth of her smile, lengthened her body and blonde hair, and eliminated her hoyden apparel, he recognized her immediately. There was just no one else the teenager could be.

Peggy Dayton was back; Adam had finally brought her home.

Like her mother before her, she had become somewhat of a beauty. She was petite and still a great deal shorter than Adam. Her complexion was fair; her apparel was tidy yet simple, and her hair was long, as evidenced by the single braid that hung over her shoulder and nearly to her waist. She appeared healthy, happy, and well. There was no denying that however Adam had chosen to provide for her, he had done a fine job.

Ben could not say he was surprised to see her. Adam, however, obviously was.

"Peggy," Adam said, her name leaving his mouth with a deep, defeated exhale. "I told you not to come back here." He planted his hands on his hips, his face contorting sternly. "I told you to stay in school and that we would speak further about your future when the semester ended."

"I know." Peggy seemed both unsurprised and unbothered by Adam's discontent and troublesome stance as she turned her head upward to hold his gaze. In her eyes danced a knowing glint and the slightest hint of adoration for the man who stood in front of her.

"Then why are you here?" Adam asked.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"Given the fact that I just did, yes."

"Why is it that I can remember all the things you say to me and you can't remember the things I say to you?"

"I remember what you said," Adam assured. "I also remember we came to an agreement."

"You agreed. I didn't agree."

"Children don't need to agree."

"I'm hardly a child," Peggy scoffed.

"You are hardly an adult," Adam countered.

Crossing her arms, Peggy's eyes narrowed. "I am acutely aware of my age. I am old enough now to at least have a say in the decisions others would like to make for me, remember?"

Closing his mouth abruptly, Adam took note of the statement. Tearing his gaze away from Peggy, he took a deep breath; then looking at her again, he removed his hands from his hips and pulled her into a hug.

It was quite the display, so confounding and heartwarming at the same time. Watching it from afar, Ben was content to linger in the periphery of the moment, in the center of the small group composed of him and his other sons.

"Who is that?" Jamie asked quietly.

Hoss and Joe traded a glance. "Peggy," they said in unison.

"So," Adam began as he and Peggy finally broke their embrace. "Am I to assume Lil will be following in the coming days?"

"Um, well…" For the first time Peggy appeared hesitant as she took a preemptive step backwards. "No, actually."

"No," Adam repeated. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean, she's not coming."

"At all?"

"Well, since I decided to come, there really didn't seem much point for her to."

Adam was skeptical. "She agreed to allow you to come alone?"

"No… Not exactly. You see, I… I kind of decided to take the stage alone."

"What?"

"Well, I mean. It isn't exactly like she's in any condition to travel. She is so tired these days. It didn't seem right that she should have to come all this way, just to get on another stage and go back again. I didn't just leave," Peggy added hopefully. "I left a note. And Noah is fine; I promise, he is. He did really well, better than any of us thought he'd do."

"Noah." Adam was horrified. "You brought him with you?"

"Well, yeah, seeing as that was…" She hesitated as Adam stared at her, his eyes and mouth open wide. "I said he was fine," she added lamely as he turned abruptly, stepping up on the side rail of the stagecoach to peer inside. "That he did just fine."

Eyes settling on something hidden, Adam expelled a breath of relief. "Peggy," he said, looking over his shoulder to cast her a rebuking stare. "That was a very foolish thing to do."

"It was fine," Peggy repeated. "He was fine, and I was fine, and the whole trip was completely fine."

"What if it wouldn't have been? What if something happened to you? Or him?"

"It didn't."

"It could have."

"But it didn't."

"But it could have."

Clearing his throat, Ben elicited the attention of both Adam and Peggy, bringing their disagreement to a sudden end. Peggy was nonplussed that their conversation had been observed. Adam was not. Lips curling into a deepening frown, he jumped off the side of the stage, leaving it rocking slightly in his wake.

Ben wondered who the pair were arguing about. If this disagreement was only one of many that had taken place over the years. It was an odd thing to suddenly be privy to, this closeness of a relationship he had been so fervently against years ago. It was good to see it now. It was comforting and reassuring to realize that while Peggy may have lost her mother, father, and stepfather, she had always had Adam. And Adam had always had her, this girl who he was destined to love so deeply, the power of his feelings for her not unlike those his father had felt for him.

Like his father before him, it was Adam's love for this child that had propelled him forward, his need to protect and provide shaping him into the man he was. Ben had not understood the strength of their bond before, but looking at them now—hearing the paternal worry lurking in Adam's voice and listening to Peggy protest his authority like the disgruntled teen she was—it was difficult to ignore. Ben did not want to ignore it; this time, he knew he needed to embrace it instead. He took a step forward, his eyes set on Peggy as he forced a smile.

"It is very good to see you again, young lady," he said.

Peggy looked at him, her lips curling into an enthusiastic smile. "Thanks!" Then she cast Adam a look of triumph. "At least someone is happy to see me."

"Did I say I was unhappy to see you?" Adam asked wryly.

"Not with your voice," Peggy said. "It's a good thing Noah is sleeping. You'd be in big trouble otherwise."

"And who is that?" Ben did not know what kind of response he was expecting. With the ruckus that had taken place outside of the stage, it did not seem likely there could be another person inside of it.

Adam stared at him for a moment, his expression flat. "Noah is my son," he said.

Ben, Hoss, and Joe reacted to the news in tandem—or failed to react, rather. Hoss and Joe stared at their older brother blankly and Ben found he could neither speak nor move. The news was as uplifting as it was devastating.

We're not that different from each other, Adam's words rose from the depths of Ben's memory to assault him with their haunting truth. I wish we were, but we're not. Suddenly, it seemed so obvious. Adam was not afraid of anything. It was not himself he was protecting with his demand for kind body language and expressions. He was protecting his father from the quick judgment of a child he was meeting for the first time. Ben wanted to be grateful for the sympathetic warning, but he felt too heartbroken to pay heed to anything else. How had he not known his son had become a father? Why had Adam not said anything? Were they so far apart from each other that such a thing could not have been shared?

"Your son?" Joe asked, unknowingly giving voice to his father's silent question. "You've had a son this whole time and you never said anything?"

"Now, Joe, I'm sure he had his reasons." Always the peacekeeper, Hoss looked at Adam with guarded eyes.

"Of course, he had his reasons," Jamie said.

Peggy cast Jamie a skeptical gaze. "What do you know about his reasons?" she scoffed. Her sudden dislike of Jamie was palpable, this strange teenage boy who seemed to know just as much about Adam's intentions as she did, something she obviously took great displeasure in. "He's protective, that isn't new."

And obviously so was she, because, crossing her arms, she moved to stand as a buffer in the space separating the distance between where Adam and Jamie stood. This was something Jamie seemed to take both note of and offence to, because he took a step forward, a storm of indignance brewing in his eyes.

"I know that," he said.

"How?" Peggy asked. "Who are you anyway?"

"Jamie," Jamie said.

"Jamie who?"

"Jamie Cartwright, Adam's brother, and just who exactly are you?"

"Brother?" Turning her head, Peggy looked at Adam as though she was expecting him to refute the claim. "You don't have three brothers. I remember Little Joe, and I remember Hoss. They're both grown." She pointed an accusing index finger at Jamie. "He's not any older than I am. How can he be your brother?"

"He's actually a little older than you," Adam said. "It's okay," he added as Peggy's mouth hung open. "We'll talk about it."

The soothing words did the opposite of what they were intended to. Digging the heels of her shoes into the muddy street, Peggy's face contorted with pure contention. It could not have been the implication of Jamie's age or even the shock of his presence that led to her sudden shift in mood. No, Ben thought, as he watched the moment unfold. This was something else. Something painful, bitter, and deep.

"What do you mean it's okay?" Peggy extended her arms, indicating their surroundings. "What about any of this is okay to you?"

Though the question had been direct, it was clear there was an alternative meaning lurking beneath its surface. Adam appraised her momentarily, neither his patience nor his calm demeanor faltering.

"That is a question better answered at a different time, in a different place," he said. "Like I said, we'll talk. You've had a long journey. You're tired. I'm sure things will seem different once you've had some rest."

Directing her to stand next to the stagecoach, Adam opened the door and reached inside. "You certainly packed light," he said, lifting a carpet bag and passing it outside. Peggy accepted the item wordlessly, her expression still tight with dissatisfaction as Adam leaned back into the belly of the stage. "Well," he added. "We don't seem any worse for wear in here."

"Told you he was fine," Peggy said. "That he did fine, and I did fine, and the whole trip was just fine."

Emerging from the stage, Adam took a step back and stood tall, adjusting the quilt-covered toddler he now held in his arms. Still sleeping peacefully, the boy neither protested being removed from the stage nor being gently settled against Adam's chest. The blanket covering his head shifted slightly to allow the slightest glimpse of his thick, onyx colored hair and delicate features before his head rested heavily against Adam's shoulder, his face hidden as it pressed into the crook of his father's neck.

Though he had only seen a hint of the child's face, for Ben it was enough. It was like looking at a vision of the past, a version of his son that had existed several decades ago. It was impossible to know how old the child was, but judging by his size, his likeness to his father when he had been that small, he could not have been more than three years old—or a little younger maybe.

Ben felt as though he could no longer breathe, the reality of the situation overwhelming him quickly. Adam was a father. He had a son. Oh, lord, was it really any wonder why he had changed? Why the memories of the past were no longer useful to him? Why he was unwilling to engage in conversations that promised conflict? He could not afford to focus on the past at the expense of the future. He had a child who depended on him—children, if Peggy were to be included, and of course she was. She was as much Adam's child as the tiny boy he held in his arms.

Adam had left assuming responsibility for one child and now had returned with two—the first one he had chosen and the other had assumedly come along through more traditional means. It was such a glorious development, and yet it was so terribly sad. There was no woman accompanying the children; Adam made no mention of the boy's mother, or even a wife. Suddenly, inexplicably, Ben wanted to step forward and take Adam, the boy, and Peggy into his arms. He wanted to hold them all, the tightness of his arms proof of something it was not appropriate in the moment to articulate.

I've been a fool, he thought penitently. So, blinded by hurt masquerading as anger and frustration, his focus had been on the past. He had not given the present proper consideration; he had not thought about the future at all. But the future was here. It was on the stage, just as Adam had said it would be.

"Adam," Ben said softly, his face shifting with sadness. "Son, I'm sorry."

Even as he said the words, he knew they would not be accepted; they were not what his son wanted, what he had come back to obtain—or provide. Adam had been working as a Marshal, and now he was not, because something had happened in his life. Something had changed, facilitating a need for stability, a place where he could build his children a reliable home.

It was all so painfully obvious now—as was the truth etched in the stubborn glint in Adam's eyes. He did not want to come back. The decision he was making now had nothing to do with his wants or needs. And with all the choices Adam had made that Ben thought he would never understand, this was one he always would. Adam did not want to come back, but he knew he needed to, because, like Coffee had said, he needed a great deal of help.

Adam did not react to his father's apology; he stood tall, his shoulders suddenly rigid, his eyes dancing with indignation. Don't do this, his eyes demanded. If you want to talk further about the way things are, fine, but we're not going to do it now. I've asked so little of you since I've returned, at least give me this.

Looking between Ben and Adam, Peggy seemed to take note of something. Reaching for Adam's free arm, she settled it over her shoulder and herself close to his side. She hung their still clenched hands to hoover protectively over her chest. "You're right," she conceded as she looked up at him. "I am quite tired. I think I would like some rest."

Adam looked at her thoughtfully, then he cast his brothers a regretful gaze. "I'm sorry to cut the morning short, fellas, but I think it's best if we convene this visit at a later time." His eyes found his father's. "Why don't you come back tomorrow?" He tilted his head at Noah. "So you can be properly introduced. Come by the house in the afternoon, after school lets out. Jamie knows where it is."

"Kay Street," Jamie said.

"That's right." Adam affirmed before leading Peggy away from the group.

Watching them walk away, neither Hoss nor Joe dared a word, both seeming to be as overcome by the child in Adam's arms as their father was. Jamie, however, was decidedly unaffected by the sight.

Standing next to Ben, he nudged his father's side with his elbow as Adam and Peggy drifted further from view. "Smile, Pa," he reminded softly.

And, as he watched Adam and Peggy make their way further down the thoroughfare, Ben did smile. It was the first expression in weeks he had not needed to temper or force. He did not know what had led his son back to Virginia City; he was not privy to the events that had precipitated the need for such a decision, but, in the moment, it did not seem to matter.

All that mattered was the truth hiding behind Coffee's earlier words. Adam may not have wanted to come back—he may have had every reason to never return—but that did not change the fact that he was here. For whatever reason, he had decided to bring his children home. And looking upon the three sons he stood among and then back to the son who was walking with his own children in tow, Ben could not deny his family had changed a great deal, and with all the things Roy Coffee had been right about there was yet another that could not be dismissed or ignored.

It was a very beautiful day, indeed.

END PART ONE

TBC… in Part Two.

The chapters of part two will continue to be uploaded to this story. There is much more of this to come. Thank you so much for your comments thus far. I hope you enjoy the rest.