NOW:

Ben arrived at the house on Kay Street to find Jamie lingering awkwardly in the sitting room and Lil and Peggy engaged in a disagreement in the kitchen.

Eyes widening and mouth falling open, Jamie was clearly horrified that his father had discovered he and the teenage girl had ventured into town, despite being given clear and direct instructions to remain outside of it.

Hands planted on his hips, Ben's lips curled into a deep frown. "Jamie," he said sternly, "why in the world would you think it is—?"

"This is such bullshit!" Peggy's fierce declaration resounded from the kitchen, shifting the attention of both father and son.

"Peggy," Lil's warning quickly followed.

"It is! Eddie leaves and then she comes back and we're all supposed to pretend things are different than they are. Like she never left in the first place!"

"No one is asking you to…"

"Yes! They are!"

"...Lord help a person who ever asked you to do something like that."

"Peggy's mad," Jamie said.

Ben thought the pronouncement more than unnecessary. He looked at his teenage son. "So am I," he said.

Jamie's face was pinched with compunction. "Coming here wasn't my idea. Don't you understand? She was going to come into town with or without me. I couldn't let her go alone, not with the way things are."

"And convincing her to change her mind wasn't an option that crossed your mind?"

"Just wasn't an option. Peggy ain't the kind of gal to be convinced to do much of anything she doesn't want to." Brows raising, Jamie shrugged weakly. "I guess, I'm still trying to figure out if that is a good or a bad thing. I'm still trying to figure out a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like how to stay with someone who doesn't seem to want you with them in the first place. If it's okay to dislike someone you're supposed to be related to. Or how far you should go when you've…" Jamie hesitated, his mouth closing abruptly as he stared at his feet.

"How far should you go when you've done what, exactly?" Ben asked, his mind turning with all the unsavory possibilities of the kind of trouble a teenage boy could engage himself in. "Jamie," he prompted, when it became unclear whether his question was going to be answered.

Jamie remained painfully silent.

Ben inhaled a deep, calming breath and tried again. "Son, if you're in some kind of trouble, or you've found yourself engaged in a bad situation, one you feel you need help to correct, then I would like to know."

"Why?" Jamie asked. "So you can get angry and punish me for what I've done wrong?"

"No. So that I can help make whatever is wrong right."

Jamie thought about the explanation. "I'm not in trouble," he finally admitted dejectedly. "Not yet at least, but if things continue on the way that they are, then I don't know, maybe I will be."

"What's going on?"

"I didn't want to come here. I don't want to be in this town, not anymore. Not after what happened to Adam or seeing what he's doing now. Those guys he has building the gallows, they're my friends."

Ben nearly sighed. If the trio of delinquent boys were still considered as friends by his youngest son, then they should not have been. The lot was nothing but trouble. Adam knew that, and that's why he was doing what he was.

"They're just kids," Jamie added. "But now their hands are bloody and they're being worked damn near to death."

Though Ben was not in favor of the boy swearing so freely in front of him—or ever at his age—Ben let the curse slide. The importance of continuing their current conversation suddenly seemed to outweigh the importance of holding Jamie accountable for such a small indiscretion.

"The folks around here are mad about how Adam is treating those guys," Jamie continued. "I guess, maybe I'm mad about it, too." His conflict about speaking ill of a brother he had previously fiercely defended was clear.

"Your brother knows what he's doing, Jamie," Ben said with forced conviction. Adam was once a hero in Jamie's eyes; now Ben wondered if he had become something else. "I know it doesn't seem like that right now, but in time, it will."

"I'm not so sure. That thing I'm worried about is how far I should go in fulfilling a promise. I vowed to Adam that I would look after Peggy. That I would keep her out of trouble and follow her everywhere, to the ends of the earth, if need be. At the time, I was so happy he was asking me to help him that I didn't take the time to ask why."

"And now you're thinking maybe you should have."

"I didn't before. I was fine this morning. I didn't even mind following her into town. But then we got here, and now suddenly everything feels so different than it was."

"Because you saw what Adam was making your friends build."

Nodding mournfully, Jamie looked at Ben with pleading eyes. "They're not that different from me, you know, except for they don't have families who're as prominent as we are, and they don't have older brothers to protect them from the consequences of what they've done."

Ben wanted to ask what such a thing was. What was this elusive event that had resulted in such a harsh punishment for Jamie's friends? Was it one thing? Or a bunch of little things compiled, resulting in the need for such a startling punishment. He was not provided the chance to press his son further.

Leaving the kitchen in a flurry, Peggy did not acknowledge Ben or Jamie as she fled the house and slammed the door. Jamie stood immobile for a moment before casting his father a questioning glance.

"Well, son, you better go after her," Ben said. "After all, you have a promise to fulfill."

"You mean I'm not in trouble?"

"No. But if the two of you aren't home by dark you will be."

Leaving Jamie to follow Peggy, Ben joined Lil in the kitchen. Arms crossed in front of her, she stood, her back to him, facing the stove in the corner. It appeared she had been attempting to make coffee, before being overcome by such powerful emotions that rendered her immobile. Standing next to her, he grasped her arm and guided her to sit at the table.

Returning to the stove, he lit the burner and placed the filled pot upon it to boil. Neither of them spoke for what felt like the longest time. The coffee pot eventually began to whistle. Ben pulled it from the heat and placed it on the table where neither of them reached for it as it sat in the space in between them, still spitting steam.

"I may not be the most religious of women, but I pray for that little girl at night," Lil said, her voice soft but full of emotion. "I pray for her parents, too. All of them, those who are still with us and the ones that are not. Lord knows none of them were brought into this world destined to live easy lives. They all had their own challenges; their own crosses to bear. There was a time when I hoped that Peggy would reach an age when she could learn from the mistakes of her parents, and now I worry she never will. She's just so… angry, frustrated, and discontent with everything around her except for the things she perceives as the ones she chose. In some ways, she's too much like Laura and in others she's too much like Eddie. A disastrous combination if you ask me. One woman was much too dependent to find true love and happiness, and the other is too independent to be satisfied with such things. In San Francisco, my daughter once had a life that my niece spent her whole life yearning for: a house full of children and a loyal man. The very same loyal man and life that Laura could have had had she been able to see past the smooth-talk of a Johnny-come-lately and appreciated the goodness and kindness of the suitor who had chosen her to be his wife. Lord knows, Adam was never going to be the one to change his mind about their union. Do you ever think of it, Ben?"

"Think of what?"

"How different life would have been had Adam married Laura. If he hadn't left and the two of them had remained on your land? Peggy could have been saved from Will's destruction. Laura would have given birth to Charlie and Noah. And I would have come to visit all of them, like I visited years before. Maybe things could have been different then, happier than they are now. We would be here speaking of our joys rather than dancing around our pains. I would have stayed a jovial, scheming woman."

"I think I prefer you the way you are now."

Lil considered Ben sadly. "I wish I could say the same about you."

"Are the ways in which I have changed that bad?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

Ben was not sure he did. "Adam has asked me to remain with him in town," he said. "He has also asked that you go to the Ponderosa to look after Eddie in my absence."

"Given how things stand, Peggy won't talk or take direction from Eddie. Who is going to look after her?"

"Jamie. Although I was previously unaware of it, Adam has asked his youngest brother to keep watch over his daughter."

"Jamie is just a boy."

"He is," Ben agreed. "But he has solid instincts and a good heart. He'll do his best to keep her where she needs to be."

"And if he can't do that?"

"Then he has two older brothers at his disposal who can help if need be."

"But not a third," Lil said.

"I think Adam has more than enough to worry about without adding Jamie to his list."

"If Jamie's worries concern Peggy, then Adam would want to know."

"And he will," Ben said. "If I am privy to something then I will make my son aware of it."

"And if you're not?" Lil asked.

It was a question that did not receive an answer and only served to terminate what was left of the conversation.

"You are at somewhat of a disadvantage in the current circumstances," Lil eventually said. Standing in the corridor, her overstuffed carpet bag hanging from the crook of her arm. "Even you must realize that. A person could write a book compiling all the information you don't know about your son, my daughter, and our grandchildren." There was no animosity lingering in her tone or expression. Her words were almost too matter-of-fact. "I don't know how much Adam intends to share with you, or what his intentions are for keeping you so close when I know he prefers all of us to remain so far away. I don't understand that, but, lord knows, I wish I didn't understand a lot of things. I ache for your ignorance. Your ability to look at my daughter as though she is a welcome sight. As though that baby she's carrying is something to be anxiously awaited rather than dreaded. You look at that child like it is a gift. What you don't know is that it is really a curse."

"No one asks to be brought into this world," Ben said. "None of us get to choose who we are born to, when, or why."

Lil tilted her head knowingly. "Oh, honey, you have no idea how right you are about that."

"What does that mean?"

"If you work up enough nerve, why don't you ask your son?"

And with that she was gone.

Ben sat in that house on Kay Street for a long time thinking about all that he knew and everything he did not. Eventually, he ventured outside and set his attention on joining Adam at the Sheriff's office. He was not sure what he expected to see when he walked through the door, but it was not what he found.

The room was dark and empty. Adam had left, but where he had gone Ben did not know. He suddenly felt like a patsy, a pawn that had been left ten spaces behind. Had Adam really wanted him here? Or with Roy Coffee no longer at his disposal had he just needed another old man to stand in his place? To watch his children and care for his expectant wife. To ensure the youths outside finished building the gruesome project they had been tasked with. Nothing about anything Adam was doing struck Ben as things his eldest son would choose to do. Then again, over six long years had passed since the last time he could have predicted what Adam would do.

Ben lit the mounted oil-sconces scattered among the walls of the office. He opened the door of the adjacent room and stared at the empty cells. He began pacing the area in front of the sheriff's desk, trying and failing to distract himself from the doubt that seemed intent on overtaking him.

Why was he here? Why had Adam left? How much time would pass before either of those things changed?

These were questions he could not answer, so he settled himself in his son's chair instead. Leaning back, he appraised the desktop. It was cleaner than it had ever been when Roy Coffee had sat behind it. Save for a neatly stacked pile of WANTED bulletins and writs yet to be served, a thin pad of blank paper, and a few sharpened pencils sitting neatly in a tin mug, it was void of anything. Ben would expect nothing less. Adam had always been tidy, downright loathsome of clutter. Although he embraced certain pursuits and extravagances, if things did not have a specific purpose or place then they held little meaning to him.

Growing bored with his current predicament, he began to absently open the desk drawers. Roaming the contents, he was not looking for anything in particular; he was not sure what he expected to find. In the top drawer there were the usual things—things his friendship with Roy Coffee had once made him privy to—a couple of dented deputy badges to distribute, if need be, more blank paper, and unsharpened pencils. In the second drawer sat a nearly empty bottle of liquor; in Coffee's case it had always been brandy, and in Adam's case it was whiskey. The change type was not a surprise to Ben. Ever since Adam had reached an acceptable age to consume the liquid—and probably well before—it had been his favored liquor. In the bottom drawer, however, there was a stack of things Ben had not anticipated: a list of names, two letters, and a small collection of photographs, all of which had become crumpled, worn, and discolored by age. He shut the drawer immediately, not wanting to make himself privy to his son's private affairs.

But boredom was a cruel mistress and coupled with frustration, it created an urge too powerful to be ignored. He opened the drawer again, gathered the stack of items, placed them on the top of the desk, and began to carefully examine each.

The list of names was of little consequence to him. A series of monikers belonging to men he did not recognize. Every name had been crossed off the list, except for the very last one. Whatever the ramification accompanied the act of having one's name stricken off, Wallace Merrill seemed to have dodged it; his was the only name that was written without a vertical line running through the middle of it.

The first letter, still folded and sealed, Ben did not need to open to recognize. It was the one he had written to Adam when his son was missing and left it in Abel Stoddard's care. He did not need to open it to know what it said; he recalled the words he had penned as well today as the day he had finally summoned the courage to write them. I'm sorry, he wrote. I know I wrongfully attacked you during our last discussion; I have been failing you since the day you were born. I know I'm not entitled to know anything about you now, but please, son, let me know if you are alive and well. I know I don't deserve it, but please give me this peace of mind. Ben had assumed the letter had been discarded; he could not explain why his son had kept something he seemed determined to never read.

The other letter was a bit of a shock, because it was from Will. To my brother, Will had written, please don't hate me for what I am, rather choose to love me for the life I saw fit to give to you. I trust you will take care of Peggy, and that someday, together the two of you will learn to leave the memory of who I was and who I could have been behind. I pray you set yourself free of your father's expectations and your own. Shaking his head and huffing a deep breath, Ben could not bear to read anymore. He could barely endure the thought that his nephew had dared to call his oldest son his brother, or that Adam had read the letter in its entirety—something he could not find the will to do.

He turned his attention to the photographs, holding them in a stack in one hand to slowly flip through.

The first picture was of Eddie, Peggy, and an infant. Ben's heart skipped a beat as he quickly realized who the baby was. He was looking at his grandson, Charlie, the son Eddie and Adam had lost. Held tightly and close to his mother's bosom, he was tiny, nearly immersed in a white long dress that distracted from his rounded face and pinched expression. If Ben had to venture a guess, he would estimate that at the time the picture was taken Charlie had been less than a month old. If asked to speculate as to what had necessitated the need for the photo, then he would have guessed it was his son's extended absences due to his job that had demanded such a thing.

The second picture was nearly a duplicate of the first, though a few more years had passed. Eddie was once again holding an infant in her arms; Peggy was nearly a teenager; and Charlie had grown into a beautiful toddler. Despite the black and white pigment of the paper, it was clear the child's complexion had differed from that of his younger brother. Charlie's hair had been fair, perhaps even blond; his eyes were expressive and striking, shining with pure joy as he grinned tooth-fully, his cheeks pinched with deep dimples. He looked so much like Adam and Eddie both.

Heart aching, Ben looked at the photograph for a long time, trying to memorize every detail of the grandson he would never meet, praying Charlie's image would be imprinted in his memory for the remainder of time. When he finally convinced himself to move on, he expected the final picture to be representative of another advantageous moment forever frozen in time.

It was not.

Eyes narrowing, Ben struggled to decipher what he was viewing, and when he finally did, he gasped, the rattling photograph falling from his shaking hand to flutter and flip and land face up on the top of the desk, its revolting details on full display: alone on the bed was a body, the lifeless form of a naked woman. Her hair was untied, cascading on the pillow behind her head; her face was completely gone, irrevocably fragmented and fractured, transformed into a bloody hollow heap.

The image was odious and repugnant. Ben was horrified.

Stomach turning wildly, he felt nauseated, certain he was going to be physically sick. Unable to look at the woman's ghastly image any longer, he gathered the photographs and letters in a flurry and shoved them back into the bottom desk drawer. Leaning back in his chair, he covered his mouth with his palm, his eyes wide. Questions raced through his mind, each unanswerable and terrorizing in their own way.

Who was this woman and why was she dead? Who had dared to take such an ungodly picture? Why would Adam have it? And why would he keep it among the images of those he held most dear? What was the purpose of possessing such a horrifyingly wicked thing?

He could not help thinking about how Laura Dayton-Cartwright had died. Though Ben had never seen her body himself, the gruesome details had been disclosed to him. Not by Adam, of course; he may have discovered her body, but he refused to speak about the event in any real detail. It was Roy Coffee who had shared with Ben a description of what Laura's body had looked like when she was found. Years ago, it was Coffee who had told the townsfolk of Virginia City—or those of them willing to listen, at least—that Doc Martin had deemed Laura's gruesome injuries self-inflicted. But today, in front of the town council, Coffee had refused to repeat such an important fact. He refused to come to Adam's defense at all.

It was Adam who the townsfolk believed had taken Laura's life. Adam who had tasked a parcel of boys to build gallows in the center of town. Adam who refused to remain in the company of his expectant wife and children. Adam who had been described as dangerous. Adam who had a monstrous photograph of a grisly corpse. Ben did not want to think his son was capable of such brutality. Adam may have been a lot of things, but he was not a murderer. But he was the one harboring the iniquitous photograph in his bottom desk drawer.

"Bottom desk drawer," Ben whispered.

Roy Coffee had once said that was where he had kept Laura's diary. It was a book that had been stolen and then subsequently passed around the small town. If someone had taken the diary then had they seen the photograph, too? Ben wondered, panic-stricken by the very concept. Had the abhorrent image played a part in the bloody accusation that had been penned with Adam's blood on the wall of the sheriff's office? Was it a factor in how people were looking at him now? Was it what had facilitated Coffee changing his mind about Adam's ability to guard the town?

Ben did not know the answers to any of these questions, and worse: he had no one he could ask to glean the truth. He could not admit to Adam that he had seen the photograph without admitting to snooping through his personal things. He could not ask Roy Coffee about it without risking disclosing its existence and potentially destroying his son's reputation further.

Lawman or not, no one should be in possession of a profane image like that. Its mere existence was sinister and incriminating. No good could come from creating such things, or hanging on to them after the fact.

You don't see me for who I really am, Adam's bitter words circled Ben's mind. Years ago, I ran away from this place and you, and I changed. I've seen terrible things and I've done much worse.

If these statements had been voiced in direct reference to the topic at hand, Ben could not be sure. He had no firm evidence to confirm or deny such a thing. But he had suspicions, and as more memories awoke, he found himself filled with plenty of doubt.

There was a darkness inside of Will, an anger that he tried to hide, Peggy had said. I think maybe Adam is afraid a hint of the same darkness that was inside of Will is inside of him, too.

Don't be fooled, Roy Coffee had urged. Adam's spent all this time being angry at you, and now, suddenly, he's not. A wise man might ask himself why that might be, what the cause of such a sudden shift in outlook truly is. What such a thing would allow him to hide, or why he would want to.

There's a cost to keeping secrets, Adam had said, a price to the lies we tell so that we can live with the horrible things we've done.

Alone these statements had seemed to mean little, but together, and coupled with the sickening photograph, they could form an appalling scenario.

What had Adam done? Why had he done it? How many secrets did he have and how many lies had he told? And how would these things come back to haunt and hurt all of them in the end?

TBC

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