"Mr. Cartwright! Mr. Cartwright!"

A shout from outside interrupted breakfast on Thursday morning. The four Cartwrights jumped up out of their seats at the same time before I even had time to react. "That sounds like Watts," Adam said, throwing his napkin on the table as he moved.

Without pausing to wonder if I had ever met Watts, I pushed my chair back and rose to follow my friends. Hoss was the first to reach the door. I was still surprised by how fast a man of his size could move at times. When he pulled the door open, a middle-aged man I only vaguely recognized was revealed.

"Watts, what's happened?" Hoss asked in concern."You're supposed to be at the lumber camp."

"Things are a mess up there, Hoss," the man said, his tone earnest. "A group of men rode into camp before the sun came up. They just started shooting. We managed to chase them off but there's a lot of men injured up there."

My breath caught in my outright attack? Why? What would anyone have to gain by it?

As one, the Cartwrights reached for their guns and gun belts. "Joe, you'll stay here," Ben said firmly. His youngest son opened his mouth to protest. "Someone has to stay with Rosemary."

Guilt struck. I was a liability to them. "No, I'm sure I'll be fine alone," I said swiftly. It was the truth. Who would be stupid enough to come to the heart of the Ponderosa to cause trouble for me? "Honestly. I'll stay inside with Hop-Sing. You don't know what you are riding into. You'll need all the guns you can take."

"She's right, Pa," Joe was quick to agree. He sent a grateful look in my direction as he buckled his gun belt on.

"Our enemy has stayed on the edge of the Ponderosa," Adam agreed, much to my surprise. "If she's not safe here, she won't be safe anywhere."

Ben hesitated. "You have your pistol?"

He hadn't been thrilled when Joe had made the gun a gift months ago, so it spoke a great deal to the seriousness of the situation. "I'll get it as soon as you are out the door," I promised. "I'll lock the door."

"Don't open the door unless it's someone you know."

That, of course, was not a difficult promise to make. They all grabbed their hats and were out the door a moment later. I closed the door behind them, hearing Ben command Watts to ride to town for the doctor. Breathing out, I locked the door and leaned against the door.

Joe had wanted something to happen, and it had. I just hoped he didn't regret getting what he wanted.

After nibbling at the food, I gave up on eating. I helped Hop-Sing clean up before I retreated to the great room. I knew a book would not hold my attention, so I brought out my new fabric and spread it out on the dining room table.

Before she died, my mother had made sure to pass on everything she knew about sewing. While in San Francisco, it had been easy to just purchase a ready-made item of clothing and I'd thought it a convenience worth the price. Still, I had sewed my own petticoat a few times and was able to draw on this experience to measure out the pattern.

A paper pattern would have been immensely helpful, but all the patterns I had collected in my life had been lost the night I fled my father's wagon that fateful night.

Just as I was about to start cutting, I heard shouting outside. "Miss Lawson! Miss Lawson!"

It took me a moment to recognize the voice. "Ron Cowan?" I left my fabric as Hop-Sing came rushing out of the kitchen. The cook held a cast iron pan in his hand. "It's alright, Hop-Sing. I think it's one of my students, though I'll have to peek out to check."

"Miss Lawson!" There was pounding on the front door then. "Miss Lawson, open the door already. Miss Lawson!"

The fierce expression in Hop-Sing's eyes didn't fade. "Why he come here?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, but I will ask him." I moved to the door. I honestly couldn't think of a reason Ron Cowan would come to me on the Ponderosa. Shouldn't he be helping his family with the harvest?

When I pulled the door open, just enough to look through, the boy was standing as close as it was physically possible to be next to the door. Though his tone had sounded frantic, there was no trace of panic in his eyes or expression. "What took you so long?" he demanded, his tone annoyed.

Of all the entitled... "What are you doing here?" I asked, ignoring his question. I looked past him and it looked as though he had come alone. His poor horse's chest was heaving, and even from a distance I could see the sheen of sweat on the animal. "Good heavens! Were you trying to ride your horse to death?"

Ron barely glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, it's fine." He focused on me. "I need you to come with me."

His casual indifference to his horse was a shock, and a very unwelcome one at that. It was almost as shocking as his declaration that I needed to accompany him. "Why do you say that?" I asked, my fingers tightening on the door. What was Ron up to?

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I need you. Isn't that enough?"

Since he'd never claimed to need help before, making a big deal about how independent he was... "No. I need you to tell me exactly what has happened before I am stepping one foot outside this house."

There was a long pause, and I had the feeling he was trying to remember something. Like he had a script he was supposed to follow. What he said next only confirmed my suspicion.

"The doctor wasn't in town," he said, widening his eyes. "My sister hurt herself and she needs help. You have to come, Miss Lawson. There's no one else."

No "please". No other details about what had happened. No hint of being a sincere request for help. Where were his mother or father? His older sister? It was too incredible to think they were also incapacitated in some way if young Mary were truly hurt in some way.

Even if I were to believe that he had gone all the way to town only to come all the way to the Ponderosa, why would I be the next choice for him? There were dozens of women in Virginia City and in the outlying farms, and any one of them would have been of more help since they would have had experience with... whatever injury had occurred. Not to mention they were all so much closer to the Cowan farm.

"How exactly was Mary hurt?" I asked, confused about what he really wanted. "I need more information, Mr. Cowan, before I simply ride out with you."

"She just cut herself, alright?" he said, his tone becoming irritated. "Come on. She needs help. Your help. Come on already."

If something had happened, I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn't make an effort. However, I wouldn't do it alone. "Hop-Sing," I said over my shoulder. The cook was standing only a few feet away. "What do you know about tending to cuts? I certainly don't know-"

Taking my eyes off Ron was a mistake. Before Hop-Sing could answer me, Ron grabbed my arm. "Why can't you just come?" he demanded, pulling to get me out of the house. "Why do I have to explain that you need to come with me? Right now!"

I braced my feet against the wood floor and pulled back. "I don't have to do anything I don't want to do, especially when someone is hurting me," I said, tightening my grip on the door. My gaze shifted downward, and I saw he had a gun belt strapped around his waist. He'd never had a gun before... "Why do you have a gun, Ron? What have you done?"

From behind me, Hop-Sing began yelling at Ron in Chinese and English. "Let go of Missy Rosemary! Why come cause trouble?"

"Why are you being so stupid and stubborn?" Ron asked through gritted teeth. Since he had grabbed my wrist with his right hand, he couldn't reach his gun, which was definitely a plus for me. "Just come with me already and no one will get hurt?"

"No one? No one! What do you mean no one has been hurt?" I made a wild guess. Something my father would have chided me for doing. "People have already been hurt, Ron! Or do you think your friends were going to ask for tea and cookies when they visited the lumber camp this morning?"

For a moment, Ron stopped moving and his eyes widened. Either what I said had surprised him, or I had guessed right. I took advantage of his distraction and flung myself forward. He wasn't expecting it and he lost his grip on my wrist. As he stumbled back, I snatched his gun out of his gun belt.

"Stop that!" Ron recovered enough to grab the barrel of the gun and jerked me toward him. Honestly, a very stupid move on his part. "Why are you—?"

"I am going to have words with your parents!" I said through my teeth, fighting for control of the gun. His breath smelled like onions and I tried not to breathe.

We stumbled to the side. Ron was taller and stronger than me. Most of the men I had met were. But I had the advantage of having both hands on the gun handle. It would have been easy—too easy—to just put one finger on the trigger and squeeze.

But I didn't want to hurt the stupid boy. He had obviously been caught up in something he didn't understand. Ron deserved some kind of punishment for what he tried to do, but not to be killed. Even if it was in self defense.

Hop-Sing's pan came crashing down on the boy's shoulder. He let go of the gun, recoiling with a yelp of pain. "What was that for?" he demanded, clutching his shoulder. "That hurt!"

"Good!" the cook said, his tone fierce. "Leave Missy Rosemary alone!"

"Thank you, Hop-Sing," I said, adjusting my grip on the pistol. I aimed it at Ron, who went still. "Now. I suggest you have a seat, Mr. Cowan. I'm sure the Cartwrights will have many questions for you when they return."

"You're crazy!" Ron glared at me and took a bold step forward. "And you're bluffing. You don't know how to shoot that."

I was quite thoroughly out of patience with him. Without hesitation, I shifted the pistol and pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into the porch rail a foot from his arm, making wood splinters fly through the air. With a sound very close to a scream, Ron sprang away.

For a moment, he stared at the rail and then turned wide eyes back to me.

"You have been told a lot about me that you have no business knowing, but it would seem that you missed out on one important thing," I said, cocking the pistol again. "I've already shot someone who attacked me. I didn't like doing it, but I will not hesitate to do it again if I am left with no other choice. So I will tell you one last time: have a seat."

There was no chair close by, but Ron obediently dropped onto the ground. It had to be the fastest I'd ever seen him obey. "Good choice." I glanced over my shoulder. "Hop-Sing, please find some rope. I don't want our guest trying to leave before Mr. Cartwright can have a word with him."

Hop-Sing gave Ron one last glare before hurrying to the barn. Odd that the gunshot hadn't brought anyone to investigate. Had every available man gone to the lumber camp?

"You're just a girl," Ron said, his voice shaking. "This shouldn't be happening."

"Just a girl?" I repeated with a slight laugh. "Mr. Cowan, I am more than 'just' a girl. I am a girl who has learned how to survive. And this wouldn't be happening if you had used what little sense you must have been born with. Now, do stop talking."

Again, he did as I said. Marvelous.