After about six hours, Hoss told me we had one more line shack to get to before we could head back. I was tired, but it felt like we had made good use of our time. There were only a few supplies left on the packhorse.

The sun had warmed the day as I had expected. I'd taken off one of my blouses, but modesty forbade me from taking off one of my petticoats. Thankfully, the gentle breeze that had been so cold in the morning kept me comfortable in the afternoon.

"How many line shacks are there on the Ponderosa?" I asked curiously when I caught a glimpse of our destination. It was above us, surrounded by trees.

"Quite a few. I'm not sure we've even made a count," Hoss admitted. "Pa was of the mind that it was better to have more than we might need than to have too few."

And that sounded exactly like something ben Cartwright would say. "Well, have you ever had someone use the shacks who shouldn't?" I asked. Hoss sent a puzzled look my way. "Like...has a criminal or even just a stranger passing through used the one of the shacks?"

"There have been a few times we've found a shack empty of the supplies we'd left." Hoss shook his head. "Might have been a criminal, certainly a stranger. But I in't about to begrudge a man for doing what he had to do in the middle of winter."

My cheeks flushed. I hadn't meant... Well, I wasn't sure what I was thinking when I had asked the question the way I did. It wasn't hard to see why Hoss thought I might not like the idea of a criminal or someone in the shacks. I'd have to think before I spoke, a habit I really should have developed long before that moment.

"I'm sure whoever found the shack was grateful for it," I said, leaning forward to pat Belle's neck. "I know I would have been if I had found one after my father—"

My sentence was cut off by the crack of a gunshot. Beside me, Hoss toppled from his saddle. "Hoss!" I exclaimed as Belle shied beneath me. Reacting on instinct, I slipped from my saddle and let Belle run away.

Keeping low, I dodged around Chubb, who hadn't tried to run like Belle and the packhorse. "Hoss?" I called in a low voice. "Are you alright?"

To my relief, I heard him groan. He lifted his hand to his right shoulder. "Stay low, Rosemary," he said. "Whoever it is, is at the line shack. He has the high ground."

Another gunshot rang out, and I pressed as close to the ground as I could. Pine needles and stones dug into my arms. "What can I do?" I asked. A gunman who shot without warning? When Cal Wilson had disappeared from Virginia City? We had to get away from here.

"Don't do anything. Keep low and I'll try to think." Hoss' eyes closed but as his forehead remained creased in pain, I knew he was still conscious.

Not do anything? I didn't think that was possible. There was a bang like a door being slammed. Though I knew it was ill-advised, I lifted my head. The line shack was some distance away, but I could see a man coming from it. There was a rifle in his hand.

Twisting, I saw where Hoss' rifle was still on his saddle. "We're out of time for thinking, Hoss," I said. Which was something I never thought I would say.

"Rosemary," I heard Hoss say as I scrambled up. But if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I had to keep moving. I did just that as I pulled the rifle free. Once it was in my hand, I just ran.

There was a third gunshot as I slid behind a tree. The wide trunk of the massive pine made for an effective shield against the bullet. "This was a bad idea," I whispered, checking the rifle like Joe had shown me how to do with the pistol. It was essentially the same, right?

The gun felt heavy in my hands. "Come out," an unfamiliar voice shouted. Cal Wilson? He must know I had a gun. "Don't make this difficult! I'm already out of patience with this whole situation."

He was out of patience? If I weren't shaking from fear, I might have laughed. As it was, I heard Hoss call out, "Leave her alone!"

Hoss was already hurt, and if he drew the man's attention, how would he defend himself? Breathing out, I spun away from the protective cover of the tree and brought the gun up. I peered down the barrel of the rifle, knowing I couldn't take the time I did when shooting with Joe.

Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes. Cal Wilson, tall and dark, had turned toward where Hoss was struggling to get up. The man was aiming his own gun at my friend.

Hoping for the best, I breathed out and squeezed the trigger. To my surprise, the gun barrel jumped upward and the butt of the rifle slammed back into my shoulder. I managed not to drop the rifle as I stumbled back. Pain raced down my arm from my shoulder.

Cal Wilson gave a shout of pain, so I must have been somewhat accurate. He was still standing, and I frantically tried to bring the rifle back up. Wait. What now. Did I have to reload? I hadn't paid that much attention to the hired hands when they shot the other day.

But, I didn't have to worry. Hoss was on his feet and he slammed his fist into the man's jaw. Wilson reeled a step and then fell onto his back. He didn't move and there was a moment of complete silence.

My knees felt weak as I forced myself to straighten up. Hoss took a step forward and kicked Wilson's rifle out of reach. "It's alright," my friend said. "He won't be getting up for a bit."

"Did I hit him?" I asked, half afraid of the answer.

"Grazed his arm," Hoss said. His tone held pride. "I didn't know Joe taught you to shoot a rifle."
"He hasn't," I said as I walked closer. "Is it always this exciting to bring supplies to the line shacks?"

With a slight chuckle, Hoss shook his head and brought his hand up to his bleeding arm. "I can't say that it is," he said. "But now we have a problem."

"Just one?"

Pausing, Hoss considered before he answered, "Well, one big problem. With only Chubb here, we can't head home. Somehow, we're going to have to keep him—" He paused to nod at the unconscious man on the ground. "—tied up while we wait for someone to come find us."

Right. Since it was already mid-afternoon, it seemed too much to hope that anyone would come before dark. "Well, in that case, let's see what he has stored in the shack."

Inside the shack, there were enough supplies that I knew I could put together a makeshift meal of salt pork and coffee if it came down to it. It was clear that whatever supplies had been there before had been used up by the trespasser, and the supplies for restocking were long gone on the packhorse.

The gall to remain on the Ponderosa, hiding in plain sight!

I set the coffee on the fireplace to start heating up and then turned to tend to Hoss' arm. Though he insisted that he was fine, I knew it was better to clean the wound and bandage it. So Hoss obliged me by sitting down and I used part of my petticoat, since it seemed there was nothing in the shack that I could use.

The bullet had gone through his upper arm cleanly, so at least I wouldn't have to worry about the metal still being inside. Honestly, I wouldn't be easy until he got into town and Dr. Martin had a chance to examine the wound.

It wasn't much later that Mr. Cal Wilson began to come around. "What..." the man said, trying to move. Any slowness or grogginess vanished as he realized he was well tied. "What is this? Let me go!"

Glancing up from my work, I said, "Mr. Wilson, it should be obvious. Your luck has run out."

The next words to come out of the man's mouth were appalling. "I don't think he is going to be reasonable," Hoss commented, ignoring the swearing coming from the corner where Mr. Wilson continued to struggle.

"Well, if he expects to get anything to eat while we wait, he will learn to be."

Hoss let out a chuckle. "Everyone swears you are a sweet girl, Rosemary Lawson. What would they all say if they could see you now?"

"I cannot imagine. But I know what Joe would say." I tied off the makeshift bandage. "He would tell me that I need to practice shooting and be faster with my aim."

"I think you did well enough." Hoss looked over at our prisoner, who had fallen into a sullen silence. "I suppose I should make sure he doesn't bleed to death before we get him to the sheriff."

"You have nothing on me!" Wilson spat out. "I've done nothing wrong!"

"You've been caught trespassing, and you shot at us with no provocation," Hoss pointed out calmly. "You know Judge Walker tends toward harsh punishments when it involves a man attacking a young lady."

That was something I hadn't known, and Mr. Wilson didn't seem to have any comeback ready. "You keep resting, Hoss," I said, putting my hand on his good shoulder. "I'll see how badly he's hurt."

"Don't let him trick you or anything." Hoss shifted to have his good hand on his rifle, and I had to laugh.

"Since you already took his gun and both knives, I don't think there is much he has to work with," I said, collecting the scraps of what was left of my petticoat. Before I had gone more than a couple steps, I heard the nicker of a horse.

Was that the rest of the Cartwrights already?

"That was fast," I said, turning toward the door.

Hoss was already on his feet. "Hold on, Rosemary. I don't think that's Pa," he said.

A moment later a voice outside called out, "Hey! Wilson! Are you there?"

My heart sank. I knew that voice. "Ron," I whispered, freezing where I was. Why hadn't the stupid boy learned his lesson yesterday? "What is he doing here?"

"Get behind the door, Rosemary," Hoss urged. He aimed his gun at Wilson. "And don't you say a word to warn him away."

In a structure as small as the line shack, there was nowhere to hide. I stood in the corner by the door. When the door swung open, I would be in the place Ron wouldn't see me right away.

"Hey! Wilson!" There was knocking on the door. And then, a moment later, the door was pushed open, and I had to put my hands out to keep it from hitting me. "Are you—"

"Come on in, Ron," Hoss said, his tone calm. "We weren't expecting you to join us, but we'll make room. You can go ahead and drop that gun while you're at it. You won't need it."

There was no quick clatter of a gun hitting the floor. "You wouldn't shoot me," Ron said with cocky confidence. "In fact, there's nothing your family can do to me. What are you going to do? Take me to my parents? They won't believe you."

"I was leaning towards taking you to the sheriff along with this other trespasser," Hoss informed him. "There's no one in the territory who wouldn't think it justified to shoot a trespasser, which you are."

"You Cartwrights think you own the whole world. I think I will be excused for not knowing where you think your world ends and the rest of the world is allowed to continue!"

Such vitriol! Someone had to have fed him lies for him to be so adamant. That, or he was being well paid to be an arrogant nuisance. How dare he knowingly trespass and then try to play it off as though he couldn't be held accountable!

Since he didn't seem to be willing to comply, and I didn't want to see him get shot—even if I was beginning to feel like it would be the only thing that would make him see some kind of sense—I shoved the door away.

It slammed into him and knocked him to the ground. "Mr. Cowan, you have been a thorn in my side for long enough, and I am sick of your attitude," I said, glaring down at him. "I am going to take your gun now. Who was idiot enough to give it back to you?"

The boy's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. I bent down and grabbed his gun out of his holster before he could try to keep it from me. "You are going to be very fortunate if you don't end up at the end of rope, you know that?" I snapped.

"W-what are y-you—?" he stammered. "Y-you're not—"

At that moment, I was heartily sick of him. "No! You are not allowed to talk right now! In fact, none of you are allowed to talk to me. I have had enough! Silence. That's what I want in this shack, do you hear me? Until Ben Cartwright comes to take charge of you pair, I don't want to hear a word out of any of you!"

He closed his mouth. When I turned, Hoss and Cal Wilson were also staring at me. "I mean it," I said, pointing my finger at them. "This has been a long month, and I want silence."

Hoss slowly pointed at himself, not saying a word. Frustrated, I waved my hand, not realizing it was the one that was holding Ron's gun. "Obviously, I don't mean you, Hoss."

"Why don't you hand me that gun and you can take a walk to cool off," Hoss said carefully.

A walk? What an excellent suggestion! Any reason to get me out of sight of the man who had been creeping around my school and the boy who had tried to kidnap me! But...

"I'll wait until you have Ron tied up as well," I said, glaring at my former student. "I don't trust him not to do something stupid, since it appears he has lost all the intelligence his parents always brag about."

Petty words that I knew I shouldn't have said, but... Well, I wasn't sorry. Ron glowered at me, but held his tongue. Hoss was clearly trying not to laugh as he retrieved some rope that Cal Wilson had with him. Let him laugh. I didn't see anything funny about the whole thing.