NOW:

"If I unchain you," Ben said, carefully eyeing Will, "do you promise not to fight or run?"

Still sitting on the floor of the upstairs bedroom, his back pressed up against the far wall, Will's features were hidden by shadows, making deciphering his true intentions impossible. "If I promise not to fight or run, will you take me outside?" he asked.

"Hm," Ben grunted. He had no more anticipated the question than his eventual answer. "I suppose." He hung his hands on his gun belt, drawing attention to his side arm. "Don't try anything," he warned.

"Why, uncle, I wouldn't dream of it," Will said. "After all, I trust you."

"To do what?"

"To do the right thing, of course."

"And what is that?" Ben asked gruffly.

Will moved into the sliver of light trickling in through the slight space between the boards covering the windows, allowing Ben to see what he had not taken the time to before. The bruising on Will's face was superficial and fading. Whatever had led to his injuries had taken place a while ago, and was not to be used as evidence of ongoing mistreatment or abuse. This was a small relief in the face of everything else. Adam had said Will had tried to run; it stood to reason that he had not been returned to captivity easily.

Will smiled; his teeth seemed sharp, his grin as dangerous and foreboding as it had ever been. Chest tightening, Ben was overcome with unease. He could not prevent himself from thinking about the ferocity of wolves. Will was a dangerous man. He always had been. He had killed Laura, Ben knew that now—and perhaps he had known it all along but had been unwilling to admit it, because alongside this brutal truth remained another.

Adam was right: there was no way to prove Will's guilt now. No way to hold him accountable for the destruction he caused at the Running D— or elsewhere. According to Adam, Will had killed others, too. The woman in the photograph and countless others that would continue to remain faceless and nameless to most everyone. There was no way to prove Will was responsible for killing them. There was nothing to do other than what was already being done.

It was the weight of this truth that Adam carried; the heaviness of it crushing and warping his spirit, and leaving him incapable of harboring hope for the future. How could one look forward to anything when their sense of responsibility prompted them to harbor a horrifying secret which bound them to the past in such a powerful way? It was not right for Will to be kept here, but he could not be allowed to roam free. There was nothing to do, Ben thought mournfully, other than what was already being done. Adam had always known that, and now his father knew it, too.

Will lifted his hands, the chains attached to them dragging haggardly against the floorboards. "Once you cut these, you aren't going to be able to put them back on. They'll become useless, and I'll be freed. You know that, and still you offered to remove them."

"As an excuse to get you to talk to me."

"Like you ever needed one. I always talked to you; I never refused to answer your questions. I remember everything you said. I've never been like him, you know."

"Who?"

"Stoic, righteous Adam. He's always been the man who doesn't need to heed the advice of anyone because he already knows it all, so I suppose that makes me the man that knows all about him. He may be stoic, but he's not so righteous. I could tell you stories about him that would make your ears bleed."

"He's told me plenty about you. So, how about you tell me something on your own?" With all the things he had learned about his son and nephew, there was only one remaining thing he needed to know. "Adam said he used to keep you tied up. He insinuated that you escaped, and that leads me to wonder. Weeks ago, someone went to the sheriff's office, hurt him, left him to die, and wrote a nasty proclamation about him on the wall. Did you do that?"

"No." Brow furrowing, Will seemed genuinely taken aback. Whether his confusion was due to the question itself or the fact that it had been asked so directly, Ben was unsure.

"You didn't shoot my son?" Ben demanded.

"Not lately," Will scoffed.

"Then who did?"

"I don't know, sounds like a question for Adam."

"He says he doesn't remember."

"And you believe him?"

"He told me not to believe you."

"And you believe that? Uncle, I may not have been the most righteous man, but at least I never pretended to be something I wasn't. I always told the truth when I needed to; I never tried to hide myself from you. Laura and I struggled in our marriage; you knew that. I struggled to fit into my role as Peggy's father, you knew that, too. In a world where no one else gave me the time of day, you always saw me so clearly, just like you see all your children. You love me, Ben, just like you love all of your sons."

"You were never my son."

"No, but I should have been, right? I could have been, had you been a braver man than you were. I believe there was another time when you walked in and found me captive and abused. I was a lot younger then and so were you. So was Adam, as a matter of fact. You saw my father and mother for what they were, that's why you took Adam back instead of leaving him in Ohio. You knew what was happening in that house, you took him and you left me. You and I both know that was the wrong thing to do. So, tell me, uncle, are you going to do the right thing now?"

If his nephew was trying to invoke guilt and sympathy, then he had been successful. He was right: Ben had failed to act properly when Will had been a child; he had turned a blind eye rather than helping, because it had been the easy path. When Will had come to live on the Ponderosa as a man and subsequently became an unkind husband to Laura and an untrustworthy father to Peggy, Ben had failed to help then, too. He had hidden the truth rather than shared it. He had chosen keeping secrets over keeping his family whole and intact. He had chosen to protect his nephew over his first-born son, because he could not see back then what seemed so clear to him now.

"You're right," Ben said as he failed to prevent the sadness in his heart from glistening in his eyes, dark and expressive, shining with a hint of the agony that he would live with for the rest of his life. "You needed me and I failed to help you. If your father and mother are to be held responsible for shaping you into what you've become, then I suppose I am as well. I could have helped you and I chose not to, because I was afraid of my older brother, my father, and myself. But I'm not afraid anymore. Nothing will prevent me from helping you now." He smiled grimly. "Sometimes help and love don't look the way we expect or want them to. I do love you, Will; I always have. I am sorry my love has come too late to save you from what it is you've become. You asked me if I believe Adam, and I do. I believe what he told me about you. I believe the reasons he has for treating you this way are reasonable ones. I intend to help you by leaving you as you are until other arrangements can be made. I am helping you by preventing you from hurting anyone else and therefore yourself."

There was nothing else to say after that, nothing Ben could hear from his nephew, nothing he could say himself that would change anything. Turning abruptly, he strode from the room. Leaving his screaming nephew behind.

"You just said that you would help me!" Will seethed, his fury overwhelming him quickly as he pulled at the chains binding him to the floor. "You think you know everything. I assure you, you don't! Adam's a liar. If you don't believe that now, then someday, I promise, you will! Just ask him where I was when he finally caught up to me! Ask him where I was headed! Ask him where his badge really came from! Ask him…!"

With a stinging heart, Ben shut the bedroom door as he left, made his way down the staircase, and exited the house. Hanging his head, he took a deep breath, held it, and waited for the pain in his heart to ebb. It would not be alleviated so easily; he knew that then, just as he knew that there was nothing, no amount of time that could pass, or words that could be spoken that would allow it to leave him completely. It was a part of him now, an enduring, bleak souvenir to remind him of his failure.

Will had killed people, because he had allowed him to. He had protected him, lied for him by omitting and ignoring the truth that had been there all along, just waiting for someone to see it. There was so much death now, so much heartache, so much pain.

Things did not have to be this way. They never should have been allowed to become this way.

If only he had taken Will away from John and his wife when he had been young enough to grow into the kind of man he should have been. If only he would have had the strength to tell the truth when Laura was still alive. If only he would have told Adam the truth before and then they could have handled Will together as fate was forcing them to do now. If only he could have dealt with his sins on his own, rather than forcing his eldest son to endure them, instead. If only things could have been different for Adam, Eddie, and their children, too. If only…

"Pa?" a soft voice said from behind him.

Raising his head and squaring his shoulders, Ben turned to find his youngest son watching him from the base of the front steps. "Jamie," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't want to come," Jamie said sadly. "But I couldn't let Peggy come here alone."

The whereabouts of the girl could not be immediately gleaned. His eyes scanning their surroundings, Ben eventually located her in the distance. In the company of the trees near the road, she sat on the swing that had hung limp for decades, the stiffness of its board withering and warping, the ropes tethering it to the sturdy branch above, splitting and fraying. Like everything else at the Running D, it had fallen victim to neglect and the brutal passing of time. What was once safe, simply no longer was.

"She shouldn't be sitting on that," Ben said. "She starts swinging with any aggression, that rope is bound to snap and send her flying."

"I don't think she plans on swinging. She just needed somewhere to sit and think while she waited."

"For what?"

"For you. She said she needs to talk to you about something."

The pair was quiet momentarily, their attention focused on the girl and the tree.

"Pa?" Jamie asked eventually.

"Yes."

"Adam's in trouble, isn't he?"

"Why would he be in trouble?" Ben deflected. He was unwilling to tell the teen more than he already knew. There would be ample time for explaining the situation later, when a suitable solution could be discovered and implemented. They could neither hide Will forever, nor let him go. Whatever it was they could do, remained to be seen.

"Because of the man he's hiding in that house," Jamie said.

Ben could not conceal his surprise or his sadness. "The other day, you said you did not see what made Peggy upset," he said, his tone was hardly condemning, rather concerned. "Did you go inside of this house?" He wanted to ask if the boy had finally seen what his eldest brother was capable of, and if that had lent to his quick shift in outlook toward the man. "Did you—?"

"I didn't talk to him, if that's what you mean," Jamie said, his tone slightly indignant. "Although, he talked to me plenty."

"Him being the man inside of this house."

"Yes."

"Jamie, do you know who that man is?"

"I didn't before, not when I first saw him, at least." Jamie looked back at Peggy and the swing. "I do now. Peggy told me he was her stepfather; she told me he's my cousin, too. She said he was mean. That he deserved whatever it was Adam was doing to him out here. But I've heard the stories in town about Adam, too, so that makes the one she told me hard to believe. I want to believe her over them, but…" Shaking his head, Jamie paused, seemingly struggling to deduce the source of his doubt. "That man inside of that house is the cousin the townsfolk whisper about, and Peggy's mother, her real one, died in this house. She was engaged to Adam and then she married our cousin instead. Peggy said that was something that seems funny in a strange way now, because when Adam took her to San Francisco, he fell in love and married Laura's cousin. But, if you believe the stories the townsfolk tell, then you'll know that nothing about what happened in this house or on this property prior to any of that was funny, or strange. They say that Adam killed Laura. They say he was jealous of his cousin for taking away the life he wanted to have."

"Those stories aren't true. You must know that."

Jamie looked at Ben, his young features contorting bleakly, his eyes shining with conflict. It was obvious he was having trouble reconciling his recent discovery of Will with the image of Adam he had once held so tightly to. Good men did not do things like this, his expression seemed to declare. Or did they? This painful question lurked unanswered in the teen's blue eyes. "Then why did Adam run away? An innocent man never runs away from something he knows he didn't do. Heroes are too wise to ever be accused of something like that in the first place."

"Adam did not run away," Ben corrected sadly. "Jamie, he left, like heroes are sometimes forced to do, when they know that the people around them aren't ready to listen to the truth, or do what is necessary to abate the evil that they've chosen to embrace rather than fight. Adam left because he knew he couldn't help if he remained. He chose the hardest road possible, so that he could save the person who needed his help the most. He went against his family and his community, he left everything he had and knew behind to do what was right for that little girl. That makes him the bravest man I've ever known, and a goddamn hero, no matter what those small-minded folks in town want to believe."

Finally stepping away from the porch, Ben extended his arm, and cupped the back of Jamie's neck. "Everything is going to be alright," he reassured. "One way or another, it will."

"How can you say that? Adam has been keeping his cousin imprisoned in this old house like an animal."

"He has his reasons, Jamie, and beside that, he has something now that he didn't back then."

"What's that?"

"He has me. Whatever happens here, he's not going to face it alone."

"Do you have any idea what's going to happen once people know that Will is out here? Adam's already a pariah. Nobody likes him, or wants him where he is. Oh, god, Pa, the things the townsfolk are going to say or do to him are almost too terrible to think about."

"Then don't. Put it away for now, son. Focus on something else. Things will be alright; I promise you that." Arm dropping to his side, Ben nodded at the hitching post where Jamie's horse was tied alongside Bingo, and his own. "Now, I want you to head home."

"I'm supposed to stick with Peggy."

"I'll look after her for the remainder of the day. Why don't you go home, do your chores, and then take Noah fishing? I'm sure Lil and Eddie would appreciate the early afternoon air and the serene scenery the lake provides."

Compliance with the suggestion did not come easily to Jamie, though, eventually he agreed. It was not until the teen had mounted his horse and directed it toward the road which would lead him back to the Ponderosa ranch house that Ben began to approach Peggy and the swing.

Leaning against the trunk of the tree, he crossed his arms, and waited for her to speak. Clenching the ropes of the swing tightly, Peggy kicked her boots absently against the dirt, drawing attention to a box on the ground that had been placed a slight distance from her feet. Rusted, dented, and old, it appeared to be metal of some sort and only large enough to accommodate something small, a bottle of liquor, a plethora of tobacco, or a pair of women's boots if one was crafty enough to fit them in, although such a thing was never utilized for such purposes.

Several silent minutes slowly passed by with Ben's attention rooted on the box and Peggy's fixated on the road Jamie had taken to return home.

"I didn't want to come back here," she said eventually, her voice even and quiet. "I guess, there are just some things in life we must do, no matter how badly we would rather not."

Ben was not sure if she was speaking of returning to the Running D on this day or Virginia City in general, and he did not dare ask, lest the girl be deterred from voicing what she needed to say.

"I remember sitting on this swing," Peggy continued, "watching that road out there, waiting for my daddy to come back. On the day he died, I never did see him coming down that road, but I saw Adam. He was with Hoss; they had come out to fix fence posts. Though I was young, even I knew those posts were always a problem on that span of land where the Running D and the Ponderosa meet. Something was always happening to them. Someone or something was always knocking them down, making it easy for the stock to mingle and intermix. That was what Adam had come to fix." Tilting her head, she emitted a single, sorrowful snort. "No, I didn't see my daddy that day, but Adam did. His only requirement was to fix fence posts; still, as time passed, he stuck around and took it upon himself to fix damn near everything else. The corral and the barn, Mommy's hatred for Daddy and herself, and my broken heart. He was here, wrapped up in everything you could possibly think of concerning the business of this place, then he was gone, and, just like that, Will took his place."

She became quiet, and still Ben forced himself to remain silent. This conversation was important; it was yet another that would leave something changed; he could feel it in the coolness of the air. Peggy had waited years to say the words escaping her lips; he intended to listen to everything she needed to say.

"Mommy and Will were two broken people," she continued. "They tried their best to make each other whole. It is such an impossible thing to try to fix people. You can't make someone change if they don't want to. You can't make someone feel unbroken, if deep inside they truly are. In the beginning they were drawn to each other; at the end they hated each other and foolishly they called that love. When Will came to San Francisco to talk to Eddie, he told her Adam didn't know how to love, but, like everything else that man has ever said, that claim was a lie. I know Adam knows how to love, because he's the only person who's ever really loved me. He isn't broken, which is such an incredible thing when you think about it. With everything he's been through, all the losses he's endured, no one could blame him for becoming bitter, or cynical, or mean. But he's not, not deep down, at least. He's strong, kind, and whole. He thinks he's different now; he thinks that his mistakes and pain have changed him, but he's the same. The fact that he chose hiding Will over killing him is testament to that. He could have done so many things more terrible than this. He could have killed and buried Will somewhere where no one could have found him. He's a marshal; he could have shot Will dead and then lied about why. Nobody would have cared; nobody except Adam, because he is a good man, too good, really. You know that, don't you?"

Looking at Ben, Peggy's face was pinched with agony as her question hung around them, demanding a response.

"I do," Ben said.

"He's an idealist. He's hard on others, because he's hard on himself. He cares a lot about right and wrong. He wants you to be able to save him, but he knows that you can't. He doesn't believe anyone can, not with the way things are. Not anymore. That's why he came back, not to change anything, but to make peace with the past and the way things are before he takes responsibility for everything he feels responsible for. Do you know that, too?"

"Yes."

"There was such mystery surrounding who Adam was building the gallows for; I suppose there's very little mystery left now, at least to you and me, of who the people of Virginia City will rally should be hung from it. Jamie's right, once the townsfolk know about Will bad things are going to happen. Everyone already thinks Adam is a murderer. They don't know Will is a liar like we do. Will won't tell the truth about why Adam kept him here, and they won't believe you when you try to tell them anything different. Shock and anger are such captivating emotions; they supersede logic and everything else. I was mad yesterday. I said a lot of things to Adam that I don't mean, but I don't hate him. I could never hate him. Do you think he knows that?"

"Of course, he does."

"Because out of all the people who have ever taken care of me, he's the only one who really loves me," Peggy said, her voice thick with tears that she could not repress. "He took me away from here. He saved me, even though he knew that doing so was going to cost him everything he had. He knew the price he would have to pay for taking me away from Will and he still did it. He knew then, just like you know now; you can't save your son from the consequences of his actions. Things have gone too far for that to be possible. You can't save him from the perceptions of others; you can't save him from himself."

"That doesn't mean I'm not going to try."

Tears spilling down her cheeks, Peggy swallowed thickly, and stood up, the swing helplessly swaying without her grounding weight to keep it still. Taking a step forward, she bent and retrieved the rust-covered box. Offering it to Ben, she reached into her back pocket and withdrew a wrinkled and faded letter.

"Will wrote me this letter a long time ago," she said. "Adam gave it to Lil after Eddie left, and yesterday Lil finally gave it to me. When I tore it open, foolishly, I hoped that it contained the truth, an explanation for why he was the way that he was, or a confession of all the things we both know he's guilty of." She shook her head mournfully. "Everything in this letter is a lie. Will didn't write anything of value, or a single word that I care to read. It won't help Adam; it can't save him from anything."

Dropping the letter, she ground it into the dirt with the sole of her boot and wiped the tears off her face.

"There are just some things in life we must do, no matter how badly we would rather not," she whispered, repeating her earlier statement. "Adam came back because he knew that the time for telling the truth was finally coming. I followed him here, because, I guess, I knew that, too. He doesn't want me here. If he had his way, he would keep me as far away from this place as he could get me. But we can't protect the ones we love from things that have already happened to them, and we can't pretend the past doesn't exist, no matter how much we want to. Adam and I have been doing an awful good job at pretending these past six years; we've avoided the past rather than dealing with it outright. We never talked about what happened here, how he took me away or why. We never talked about Mommy, either. How she died or who she truly loved when she had been alive. How his love for her was different from the love he would come to feel for Eddie. We never really talked about anything. So, I suppose, it's only right that a day would finally come that requires us to talk about everything."

Brow furrowing, she looked at the road. "My daddy never came back, but I found a new one to take his place, and I don't intend to bury another father. I don't intend to stand by helplessly and quietly as the people of Virginia City turn further on my pa. I won't allow Will to tell anymore lies, about Adam or himself." She looked at Ben with anger burning in her eyes and nodded at the box in his hand. "In that you'll find my journal, the one that I kept after Mommy and Will were married. The one that I hid in a hole in the barn the day Adam took me away. He saved me back then, so, I suppose it's fate that I should be the one to save him now. The words Will wrote years ago won't help Adam, but I think the ones I did can. The truth I'm finally going to tell about how my mother really died is going to supersede any lie that monster can possibly conceive of."

In that moment, Ben knew, the change he had been anticipating had finally come. It would affect everything, the past, present, and future. Nothing would be left unimpacted. Everything would change. He prayed they were ready for it—that he, Peggy, and Adam were strong enough to endure the impending storm and the outcome the truth promised to bring.

TBC

Thank you for all your wonderful comments! : )