Author's Notes

This chapter was a tough one to write, I struggled, but here it is. Hopefully it turned out okay.

By the way, I did some research on Civil War era firearms, particularly the Sharps rifle and its function, firing distance and so on. I hope it adds an element of authenticity to the chapter as you read it.

Oh well, here we go.

Chapter 4

The morning after the county fair's opening day was quiet at the Ponderosa ranch. Ben loaded himself with coffee, preparing for the hours of paperwork he had ahead of him while Hoss and Joe ate their breakfast slowly. They were in no hurry to go rounding up strays in the north section.

Adam was still feeling the physical effects from the previous day. His obstinacy had ensured that he'd made the ride home on Sport, but he had been exhausted by the time they'd ridden into the yard. As a result, his dismount had been clumsy and only thanks to his father's quick reflexes did he avoid an unscheduled bath in the horse trough.

When he'd woken with the rising sun after another restless night, his whole body was aching and the flask of laudanum that Paul had given him stood on his dresser, unopened.

At breakfast Adam did attempt to eat more, which his family noticed with delight. Still, their appreciation for his efforts was short lived and replaced by annoyed exasperation when he got up from the table at the same time his brothers did, insisting on doing some chores in the barn while everyone else was working.

Hours later, Ben came out of the kitchen with more coffee to continue his paperwork when he noticed his firstborn lying on the settee, lost in a deep sleep. It was obvious by Adam's pale complexion that he had overdone things and worn himself completely out since he hadn't even made it up the stairs to his room. Ben's eyes went skyward, as if silently blaming that stubborn streak on the boy's mother, then he got a wool blanket from the dresser by the front door and very carefully draped it over his sleeping son.

Adam slept through the afternoon and only once did he have a nightmare.

Ben was working at his desk and while he was focused on the figures and accounts in front of him, a part of his brain was specially tuned to catch any movement or sound his son made. When a soft moan came from the settee, the father immediately got up and walked quietly to the sitting room area. He perched on the table and gently placed a hand on Adam's arm as the young man started muttering. It was a strange mixture of broken words, unfamiliar names and even orders. Adam's breathing quickened, his head moving back and forth while his legs kicked restlessly, almost desperately under the blanket.

Ben knew that a terrible scene was playing in Adam's mind, and it was almost too much for a father to witness his child in such distress.

And so, he did what he'd done with all his boys when they were younger although never as much with Adam. He began talking in that calming tone of voice that was reserved only for spooked animals, small children and ill or injured sons. It was soothing nonsense, nothing more, but it made Ben feel better while he kept rubbing a thumb across his son's bicep. It must have made Adam feel better too because after a while he seemed to settle and his lips stopped moving.

Ben sat there for a bit, just watching him sleep, wanting to make sure that no other nightmares were lurking and waiting to disturb him and the rest he was in such dire need of. When he was satisfied that Adam would be all right, he got up and returned to his mound of papers.

Hoss and Joe rode in about half an hour later and when Ben heard them, he went to open the front door, telling them to be quiet when they came in. The two brothers were slightly confused, but when they came into the house, they noticed the end of the blanket hanging over the back of the settee. They went closer to take a look and twin-smiles formed on their faces at the sight of their older brother looking so peaceful.

It ended up being a waft of Hop Sing's roast chicken that brought Adam out of his slumber. When he opened his eyes, Hoss and Joe were sitting by the fireplace, both pondering over their next move in their current checkers game.

Ben was in his red chair beside the settee and he saw that Adam was awake but didn't say anything. To the father's trained eyes, it was easy to discern the medley of emotions that played out across his eldest's face. First, there was confused surprise followed by a hint of chagrin, no doubt because Adam perceived his unplanned and prolonged nap as a sign of weakness. And then—this time to Ben's surprise—Adam just closed his eyes again, his chest rising high and then slowly sinking back down.

Ben glanced over at his two other sons who were caught up in their game, managing to convey frustration and silent threats all through eye contact and hand gestures.

A warm feeling spread through Ben's heart as he looked at the fine young men his boys had become. The feeling became a painful lump when his thoughts turned to all those families who'd lost a son, a brother, a husband. He could spend the rest of his life saying prayers of thanks, and he would still never be able to express the gratitude he felt for having his family whole again. Even if not all the family members were whole themselves. Right now, they were all here, living and breathing, and that was all that mattered to Ben Cartwright.

At noon the next day, the family were once again on their way to Virginia City. They were invited to a dinner party at the International House, arranged by the Cattlemen's Association, and with the Cartwrights owning the largest cattle ranch in the territory, it wasn't really an option for them to decline the invitation. Although they would all rather be outside at the fair instead of inside dressed in suits, discussing business and politics.

Joe looked dapper in his white shirt and tan pants, his matching tan jacket carefully folded in front of him across the saddle horn. He'd avoided getting a haircut for a while now and consequently his hair was longer than usual. But he'd found that the ladies in town appreciated it even if his father didn't.

He was anxious to spend more time with his friends and some of the pretty girls he'd met on the opening day of the fair. There was one girl in particular he wanted to see. A young lady by the name of Maisy McCoy who'd been selling embroidered handkerchiefs and bandanas. Her flaming red hair and blue eyes had drawn him in, but she had played hard to get.

Well, Joe Cartwright wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

As they rode along the trail to town, Joe heard a mumbled "Dadburned tie" from his left and saw that Hoss had let go of Chub's reins and was now fiddling with the black string around his neck.

The rest of the family knew how much Hoss hated formal wear and even though he was in the whitest shirt he owned, he'd still kept his brown leather vest on, claiming that people just wouldn't recognize him without it. While Hoss continued to pull at the piece of string, Joe turned his head right to look over at Adam who was also watching their brother's struggle.

The twitch at the corner of Adam's mouth was barely visible, yet it was enough to make Joe's control slip and suddenly that characteristic, high-pitched giggle filled the air—followed by a new round of "Dadburnits!" from Hoss.

Ben, riding slightly ahead, turned in the saddle just in time to see Adam reach over to ruffle Joe's perfectly groomed hair as the younger man ducked away, still giggling. The father turned back to the road, privately chuckling to himself.

When they neared town, Adam became focused on seeking out one specific person. All morning, his thoughts had wandered to Virginia City just as they had most of the previous day. Straight to Miss Madeline Delaney.

It had been his own idea to leave the ranch a few hours earlier, so they could all spend some time at the fair before the dinner party. At least that had been his reasoning, and technically it was true; he did plan to spend those hours at the fair even if it wasn't exactly the fair itself he was interested in.

Once the initial surprise at his suggestion had settled, Hoss and Joe had been more than eager to back him up and Joe had shot off a series of good arguments at their Pa, straight from the hip. Ben had agreed eventually, but only after Adam had repeatedly reassured his father that he felt much better and that he would take it easy.

Ben did make it very clear though, that it was on the condition that ALL his sons would be there, four o'clock sharp at the International House for the dinner event.

As the Cartwright family entered town and rode down C Street dressed in their Sunday best, they got quite a bit of female attention, Joe especially. There were a lot of women in their early twenties, some bold enough to wave at him and he tipped his hat at them, flashing his trademark boyish grin while his thick, dark-brown eyebrows worked their magic. Hoss and Adam watched the show and indulged their younger sibling in his obvious enjoyment. However, for a brief moment, blue and hazel eyes met, silently agreeing that the teasing would be relentless when they all returned home later.

People were much calmer now when they saw Adam and although there were still a few "welcome back" greetings from folks, it was nowhere near the display that had taken place two days ago. Adam was relieved and more than happy to be in the perimeter of the attention-center that was his youngest brother.

They Cartwright men dismounted by the trees at the edge of town again and after making sure that the horses were well watered, they headed up the hillside where there seemed to be a lot of commotion. The crowd was much larger now in this area than it had been two days ago, and it soon became obvious why.

A little way up the hill—just opposite Doc Martin's lemonade stand—was a huge banner stretched in the air between two poles and it read, "Virginia City Sharpshooting Competition".

The entrance to the shooting event was blocked by a mass of people. Next to the banner stood a little booth with quick draw shooting where small, symbolic prizes could be won. The idea was for men to win a token for the women they were escorting and quite a few girls were walking around with red roses in their hands.

Joe eyed the booth and decided he'd found the perfect way to make a certain sweet redhead warm up to him. He'd already taken two steps towards the queue to the quick draw booth when his father's voice boomed above the surrounding noise.

"All right, you three. Remember, four o'clock at the International House. I will not be the only one representing the Cartwright clan."

"Sure Pa."

Ben wasn't at all satisfied with Joe's flippant response but turning to Adam for help was useless since he was staring off in the opposite direction, clearly not listening. Before Ben could speak again, Sheriff Roy Coffee came up to him, asking how he was and by then any attempt at recapturing the attention of his sons was pretty much hopeless, so Ben didn't bother.

xXXx

Adam was on the hunt for Doctor Martin's niece, and he could just glimpse the top of the pavilion tent up ahead. He was about to move past the people blocking his way when he felt a big hand on his arm.

"Ain't you comin' with us, Adam?"

"Uh, no," he said, not taking his eyes off his goal. "You and Joe go ahead. I . . . I'm gonna go over there . . ."

He swung his hand in the vague direction of the lemonade stand.

"Well, I can go with ya if'n you want."

"No. No thank you, Hoss."

His words were tinged with irritation, but Adam couldn't help it. This mollycoddling had to stop. When he glanced sideways and saw the apprehension on his brother's expressive face, he quickly patted the big man's back.

"It'll be fine, I'll take it easy, I promise. I'll even sit quietly in the shade and drink lemonade if that will make you happy."

Shuffling his feet, Hoss stuffed his hands firmly into his pockets.

"Aaww Adam, I'm just tryin' to look out for you. Just like you do for us."

"I know that." Adam reached up and straightened the crooked tie around Hoss' neck. "But I'll be all right. You go and keep an eye on our little Casanova over there. We need him at that dinner later in one piece. "

"Oh, all right," Hoss said grudgingly. "We might come and have some of that lemonade with ya in a little bit. That Miss Delaney makes some fine lemonade."

Hoss turned and walked over to Joe by the quick draw booth, and Adam went the opposite direction, making his way through the crowd.

When the lemonade-selling pavilion came into his view, he was disappointed to see two long queues lined up in front of it. He raised his jaw, his features set in determination as he stepped up at the back of one of the lines. Leaning to the side, he looked down the row of customers to make sure that it was the right queue. He caught a flash of pale pink and when Madeline's voice floated down to him, his heart did a strange fluttering thing that he was pretty sure wasn't normal.

An elderly woman got in the queue behind him and he quickly offered for her to go in front. She accepted, clearly appreciative of his gentlemanly behavior and that was fine with Adam. There was no reason for her or anyone else to know that his goal was in fact to be the last person in the queue.

The minutes went by and when he was third in line, he could see Madeline clearly, but she hadn't noticed him yet. She gave her immediate customer her full attention and he wasn't sorry about that at all since it gave him the opportunity to openly admire her stunning appearance.

Yesterday, he'd started to think that his fatigued state must have affected his perception of her during their first meeting, at least to some degree. The image he'd had in his head of a woman with the face of an angel; with flawless, porcelain skin and with eyes that seemed to slice straight into one's soul . . . well, that image was almost certainly an exaggeration of reality.

No one could possibly be that beautiful.

He'd prepared himself for that, and he'd still been desperate to meet her again. And now as he watched her while she served lemonade, he realized that there were no exaggerations where Madeline Delaney was concerned. She was as real to him now as she had been two days ago.

She was wearing a pale pink dress embroidered with white flowers, her hair partly done up while the rest hung down across her left shoulder. White ruffles ran along the dress from the top of the puffed sleeves and along the deep neckline which gave a tantalizing view of the soft curves of her bosom.

Adam swallowed hard, willing his body to stop overheating on an already hot day. Not many women around these parts dressed that way. She looked like a Southern belle straight out of Richmond. After hearing her speak for the first time, he'd known that she was from the South—before Joe had confirmed it. What intrigued him as he listened to her voice now, was that her Southern cadence was less noticeable, like it had been toned down, except for when she pronounced certain words.

While he watched her, he also sensed that there was a special air about her. An air of dignity and decency. It was in the way she held herself, respectable and proper, and there was a definite upper-class quality to her mannerisms. But it wasn't in a snobbish way at all. Because at the same time, she was so genuine and open with the people she interacted with and she gave her kind smile freely and frequently. He had never come across anyone like her.

Madeline was completely unaware of the spell she had the dark Cartwright under. She was intent on servicing the customers and she had just put some money away in a cash box when her face lit up as a small boy approached her. She guessed him to be around the age of ten. The faded, brown derby on his head was doing little to keep the blond mop underneath contained. His clothes looked like their best days were far behind them, but the boy seemed happy enough and he bounced up onto his toes so he could lean his elbows on the wooden table serving as a counter.

Madeline's eyes twinkled as she too leaned forward on her elbows.

"Good afternoon to you. And how might I help you, young Sir?"

Her formal address made the boy grin and he pushed up his hat.

"I'd like one of them glasses of lemonade please, Ma'am."

"Why certainly, one moment please."

She took the pitcher on the tabletop and poured the lemonade while the boy bent his head to check the money in his dirty hand.

"That will be two cents please, Sir."

When the boy looked up again, his mouth opened in surprise as she placed not one, but two glasses of the cloudy drink in front of him.

"Two cents will be just fine," she said. "I just happened to see you earlier with the young lady sitting over there." She discreetly tipped her head towards a little girl with pigtales sitting on a bench nearby. "I thought it might be nice for you to have a glass each. Is she your little sister?"

The boy looked at the little girl, then stepped up onto his toes again as he met Madeline's eyes. His tone came out a little defensive.

"I was gettin' the lemonade for her Ma'am. I wasn't gonna make her share it or nothin'."

"Oh, I know that." Madeline's smile was quick and understanding. "Don't you think I can recognize a young gentleman when I see one?"

The guarded expression disappeared from his young face and was replaced with open pride as he pulled back his small shoulders.

"All right then," she said with a laugh. "Now you take these"—she pushed the two glasses towards him—"and this is just a little something for being such a good brother."

Reaching beneath the tabletop, she pulled out a handful of mixed penny candies in brightly colored wrappers which she carefully tucked into his single shirt pocket.

"Geee thanks Ma'am! You sure are the nicest lemonade lady I ever met!"

She laughed at his plain excitement and watched him balance the drinks in both hands as he carefully walked over to the little girl where they could sit and enjoy their refreshments. With a faint curve of her lips, Madeline put the boy's two cents away before moving her attention to the old woman next in line.

Adam had seen the entire exchange between Madeline and the boy and he continued gazing at the brown-haired beauty, hardly aware of the smile that seemed stuck to his own face. When the elderly lady in front of him had been served, he finally stepped up to the table, feeling slightly uneasy about the lack of control he seemed to have over his body when he was in Madeline's presence.

She finished putting money in the cash box and looked up to tend to her next customer. The greeting she had been about to give never made it past her lips, and Adam was delighted when the stunned look on her face melted into one of pleased surprise. At least that's what he thought it was. He hoped so.

"Mr. Cartwright! I . . . I didn't realize that you were here today." She glanced around him and noticed that there were no other customers. "I am pleased to see you looking better . . ."

"Thank you, Miss Delaney, I'm perfectly fine now. The four mother hens of the Ponderosa have made sure of that." He took off his black hat and the corners of his mouth lifted. "It's very nice to see you again."

For the second time in just a couple of days, Madeline found herself looking into the most captivating eyes she'd ever seen. The man standing before her now looked quite different to the one she'd met two days ago. Today there was no stubble covering his attractive face. He was in a clean, white shirt and a black tie hung around his collar in a perfect bow. She realized now how tall he was, and though it was very unlike her, she couldn't keep her gaze from moving briefly to his broad shoulders.

But she quickly looked up again, back at his face, and it was his eyes that she had thought often about the last two days. They were the same now as she'd remembered them—deep with intensity and so many things she just couldn't identify yet.

With a blush she realized that she hadn't spoken in several seconds and she wrenched her gaze from his.

"Four mother hens . . .?" she asked, her hands busying themselves with tidying the tabletop.

Adam smiled, watching her closely. "Yes, four. My father, brothers and our cook Hop Sing. He's just as bad as the rest of them."

"It sounds as though you are a family who cares a great deal about each other."

She was rearranging some empty glasses more neatly on the counter when the next thing he said caught her of guard.

"Georgia?"

She hesitantly looked up at him. "How did you know that?"

"I've heard a lot of Southern accents over the years. I guess I've gotten into the habit of placing them whenever I hear them." Adam laid his hat on the counter, gazing at her with a thoughtful expression. "I find a Georgian one to be a little more refined compared to other Southern states. It's quite charming, actually."

Madeline resumed moving the glasses around as he leaned his elbow on the edge of the counter, studying her intently.

"Why do you try to cover up your accent? It's as if your voice never quite knows where it's from . . ."

He was being forward, and he knew it. But he was so fascinated by her and wanted to see how she would react to the question.

Madeline's hands stopped, and she tilted her chin up, holding his gaze. When she spoke, she let her Southern roots shine through—the words were slow and measured, the vowels broad and smooth—and there was a mellow softness to her formal tone.

"I am afraid that these days, not everyone responds as favorably to hearing the accents of the South as yourself, Sir."

Adam had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his smile in check as they continued looking at each other.

The moment was effectively broken by Paul when he came over after he'd finished serving the other queue of customers.

"Well, hello there Adam. I must say, we're flattered that you thought it necessary to get all dandied up before visiting our humble installment." Paul gestured with one hand at Adam's attire while he took a sip of lemonade.

Adam turned to his friend, but not before he saw a flicker of relief cross Madeline's face.

"It's nothing against your fine establishment here, Paul, but actually, we've been invited to an event with the Cattlemen's Association at the International House later."

"Oh, I am sure your father is looking forward to that very much," Paul said dryly. "Well, I suggest you make your purchase now because here comes another horde of customers."

Madeline and Adam both looked to where the doctor nodded. A group of jabbering people were coming up the hill, straight towards the pavilion.

Adam fought hard to hide his disappointment. He hadn't had nearly enough time with her. When he turned around to face Madeline again, words seemed to completely abandon him. Suddenly, a pitcher of lemonade came sliding along the counter and stopped right in between them.

"Well?" Paul's grey eyes pierced through Adam from beneath bushy eyebrows. "I saw you queue up a while ago. I assume that your aim was to purchase some of this fine beverage?"

It was one of the rare occasions where Adam had no smart retorts handy and he noted how Madeline's cheeks now matched the color of her pink dress while sparkles danced in her eyes. Straightening up, he placed his Stetson back on his head and addressed her in his most dignified tone.

"One glass of lemonade please, Miss Delaney."

Madeline smiled gently at him and poured the drink while he dug into his pocket for two cents. He placed the money on the table and gave Paul a "happy now?" look.

The doctor responded with a sickly-sweet smile. "We must stay hydrated, mustn't we?"

With those words, Paul went to serve the customers who were once again lining up.

Adam took his drink and with a slow, deliberate movement, he tipped his hat at Madeline. Her pink cheeks turned a deep red and Adam sauntered off, a smile of satisfaction pulling at his lips.

xXXx

The next hour flew by and Adam got reacquainted with some of his friends, but he never strayed far from the lemonade stand. He'd often look over there just to see Madeline, and while she was busy most of the time, he had a feeling that she looked over at him too.

One of the things he'd wondered most about since meeting her, was her age. By now he was sure that she was in her late twenties, but she had a kind of ageless face; one he was certain would look the same in ten years' time. There was a distinctive serenity and calm in her demeanor which gave him the impression of a woman who'd lived a full life already. Then again, she also had a look of sweet innocence about her which in some ways made her look younger than twenty. And her beauty . . . already now he could tell that her beauty was of the timeless kind.

He could have kept watching Madeline all day, but it was nearing the time where he ought to be rounding up his brothers to head over to the International House. He'd seen Joe at some point earlier, but the kid had been preoccupied with the red-haired young lady clinging to his arm at the time.

Adam was just scanning the area, when all of a sudden, the sibling he was searching for popped up out of nowhere.

"Hey Adam! Hoss and me are gonna see Jake try his luck at the shooting. Come with us, huh?"

"I think you mean Hoss and I."

"Yea, yea," Joe said, pulling at Adam's arm, "let's go or we'll miss it!"

"Look Joe, we really should be—"

"Oh, come on Adam! It'll be quick, I promise. The real competition is over anyway. We'll be back looong before four o'clock"

Knowing that there was little to be done when his youngest brother's ebullience was at this level, Adam followed after Joe and prayed that their father would be in a forgiving mood.

They walked over to the sharpshooting event's entrance, went under the banner and ended up in the middle of the large crowd that had gathered there.

Joe led the way past all the excited spectators, to an open area where there was a table and a stage-like platform. A few rifles were laid out on the table and Joe's friend Jake was holding one of them, testing its weight. Hoss was also there, with a brown paper bag in his hand, and when he saw Joe and Adam approaching, he attempted to grin at them with a mouth half full of mixed nuts.

"I'm glad ya came along, Adam. Jake just did his test shot and it was right fine shootin'."

"Yea well, let's just make sure that we keep an eye on the tim—" Adam's voice broke off when he spotted their father standing among the onlookers with Bill from the Cattlemen's Association. Their Pa did not look like he was in a hurry.

Back at the pavilion, Paul had decided that it was time to have a break, so he'd gotten a friend to take over the stand for a while. Madeline was grateful for the chance to walk around a bit and she had her arm looped through her uncle's as they headed to the area with the sharpshooting. They found a spot in the audience with a good view and Madeline saw Adam straight away where he stood in the clearing with his brothers and the young man who looked like he was going to be doing the shooting.

Joe gave Jake a slap on the back when he'd selected his rifle and Jake went to take his position at the shooting point marked in the center of the open area. The official competition had been held hours before and now all the activities were purely for entertainment purposes since there were no prizes involved. Anyone could try out their marksmanship skills and the shooting distance was set at 300 yards, just like in the main event earlier in the day. All the rifles on display had been tested and estimated to have the same accuracy. The target was a standard round board with nine rings spread out from the bullseye in the center and the contest's goal was to get the highest number of points with six bullets. The closer to the bullseye a shot was, the higher the score. Three men acting as spotters were up by the target located 300 yards up the slope of Mount Davidson. They would mark the shots and signal the points to the announcer.

The Cartwright brothers moved back to the front line of spectators and people started to quiet down when Roy Coffee stepped up onto the stage and raised his voice.

"All right folks! Now, I'm gonna remind you all that we've already had the official competition—"

"Yea that's right, we got the finest shot in Virginia City right here!"

Muffled laughter rose up from beside the stage and Roy turned a scathing look down onto the man who'd interrupted him. The loudmouth was standing with a group of cowboys a few feet away and all their enthusiasm was clearly centered around one man.

That man was Chet Rose and he did little to conceal his enjoyment over the attention he was getting. He took off his hat, bowing for the audience and a gold medal engraved with the silhouette of a rifle and the words "Virginia City's Finest Shot" hung from a ribbon attached to his shirtfront. Chet was renowned for his excellent skills with firearms, so it wasn't really a surprise that he had won the competition.

"Like I said"—Roy's voice pitched above the rising noise level—"the official contest is over."

Roy aimed a sharp look at Chet before continuing.

"Up next is Jake Miller. Jake, you've got six shots and the bullseye gives the maximum of ten points. Chet Rose won this year's contest with a score of fifty-one points and the record is still fifty-four points. Whenever you're ready, Jake."

There were a few scattered cheers and whistles from some of Joe's and Jake's mutual friends as the young man got ready and took aim. Roy's deputy Andrew was standing a few feet to his side, holding the rest of the bullets.

Jake's first shot was a decent start and he got six points as he hit the fourth ring from the target's center. His second attempt was better, getting him eight points, and enthusiastic yells of encouragement spurred him on while he reloaded the rifle. The third and fourth shots were both in the third ring from the center and gave seven points each. When he poised himself for the fifth shot, Adam could tell by the younger man's posture that his concentration wasn't where it needed to be, and Jake paid for it when he hit the fourth ring again and got another score of six.

The crowd seemed to heave a collective sigh and the young man's head shake showed his disappointment when he was handed the last bullet. Jake took his time then and was rewarded when the bullet hit just inside the ring closest to the bullseye, giving him nine points. It was a great finish and when he turned around, his ears reddened at all the praise he received.

The Cartwright brothers went over to him and gave their congratulations. Forty-three was a fine score for that distance, and there was a general agreement among the onlookers that Jake would have been worthy of a place in the official competition.

Standing next to her uncle, Madeline added her own eager clapping to the applause. She was enjoying the hyped atmosphere and her eyes trailed after Adam as he walked over to shake hands with the young Jake Miller.

Joe flung an arm across Jake's shoulders, his face glowing with pride since it was him who'd convinced his peer to give the shooting a go. Adam happened to look over at the cowboys next to the stage and noted that Chet Rose had the look of someone who'd recently chewed on a lemon.

Just as Roy Coffee was about to speak up again, Chet walked over to Jake, the condescension in his tone a direct contradiction to his friendly smile.

"Well, that was some pretty good shootin' boy. Maybe next year you'll be able to come and play with the men in the real contest. If your mama lets you, that is."

Although the general small talk continued in the audience, the nearest bystanders abandoned their conversations, more interested in seeing what scene was about to unfold.

Adam was way ahead of them—the future ten seconds had already flashed through his mind—and he knew instinctively that his little brother's temper would be the main act.

"Oh yea? Why don't you just mind your own business or—"

Joe was cut off by Adam's restraining hand on his chest and he was forced to retrace the step he'd taken towards Chet when Adam stepped in between them. Jake's ears were now the color of ripe tomatoes and Chet and his friends released a group-belly laugh.

Keeping his hand on Joe's chest, Adam faced Chet.

"There's no need for any trouble here. Jake did good, so just lay off him, okay?"

Chet sized Adam up, his eyes gleaming as if he'd just received a very early Christmas present.

"Well now, if it ain't Captain Cartwright!" He spoke up into the air. "Boys, looks like the captain here thinks he's still in the army. Seems he wants to order us regular town folk around!"

There was another bout of laughter from Chet's companions, but their hilarity was not shared by any of the bystanders and Roy Coffee shouted a reprimand. Everyone, including a frowning Ben Cartwright, was now watching the group.

Feeling Joe's heart pounding under his hand, Adam slowly dropped his arm and turned his body to fully face Chet, his tall frame towering a good inch above the other man. The glaring warning was enough to give even Chet Rose pause.

After a moment, Chet turned his face to the crowd, finding temporary escape from the dark Cartwright's severe expression.

"Hey folks, I got an idea! I think Adam should have a go at the shooting, I'll bet he'll put up a decent show for us!"

The uncomfortable silence ended when a muttering began spreading through the audience, slowly intensifying like the sound of galloping hooves nearing. Adam's teeth clenched hard behind his tight lips and he spun around to walk away from this rapidly deteriorating situation.

Madeline was watching everything from the crowd, her brow creased in worry. When she glanced at her uncle next to her, she saw tension clearly displayed on his face. She also saw Ben Cartwright pushing his way past people.

Rushing towards his sons, Ben was hoping to get to them before one of them lost his temper and he broke through the line of spectators as Adam came over.

"Pa," Adam grunted, "I'm gonna go. I'll meet you at the International—"

"Come on, captain!" Chet's voice called from the clearing, "I'll even let you use Sharpy here. I put up my own rifle for this here display and it's the best one out of the bunch."

Chet came up behind Adam, waving one of the rifles from the table in the air.

Adam knew that Chet had gotten exactly what he wanted when keen shouts of "Come on Adam!" suddenly came at him from all directions. He twisted around to face the irritating man, wishing that he'd just let Joe shut the guy up when the chance had been there.

"What's the matter, Adam?" Chet asked, his voice becoming lower as he leaned into Adam's space, hoping to at least make the Cartwright blink. "You must have had plenty of practice the last couple of years. Afraid you're gonna lose your nerve now?"

The taunting words hung dangling in the air between the two men. But instead of lashing out with a fist like Chet so obviously wanted and probably expected him to, Adam forced a pleasant smile and silently began unstrapping his gun belt. And then a flicker of apprehension slid across Chet's face.

Madeline clasped her hands together tightly and she heard her uncle's resigned sigh before it drowned out in the cheering from the rest of the crowd. She didn't know what was about to happen, but the situation was making her uneasy as she continued to watch from a distance.

Adam turned to hand his gun belt to his father, and it was clear by the furious look on Ben's face that Chet's last taunt had reached further than the person it was intended for. Joe sported a clear "you show them, brother" expression, while Hoss looked just as worried as he did angry.

Adam held out his belt and a half smile appeared by his mouth.

"I'm gonna have to do this, Pa. Don't worry, I'll be quick about it, we won't be late."

Ben took the belt and shook his head while Adam walked to the shooting point. Half the Cattlemen's Association were there among the spectators, and Ben was pretty sure that being at the International House for four o'clock was the last thing on their minds now.

Adam was loosening his tie when he looked up at the stage and saw Roy watching him. The sheriff too looked concerned, his grey mustache frowning.

"I'll give it a try, Roy," Adam said.

Roy gave a curt nod and brusquely ordered people to quiet down.

Chet ambled over to Adam and handed over the rifle, then he followed his gang as they made themselves comfortable beside the stage again.

Taking a moment to admire the Sharps rifle in his hands, Adam assessed it to be an 1859 model. The Sharps had been one of the most common guns used by Union cavalry regiments and he'd done countless hours of marksmanship training with these rifles.

"Adam, you're entitled to a warm-up shot before you get your six bullets," Roy said from the stage.

"No thanks Roy, I'll just start now if that's okay."

Adam calmly took the paper cartridge containing both black powder and bullet from Andrew's outstretched hand. At that point he shut out everyone and everything. He placed the hammer of the gun into a half-cocked position, opened the breech by pushing the lever downward, and shoved the paper cartridge into the chamber with the bullet-end first. His hands moved smoothly and confidently, repeating the sequence of movements that were so ingrained into his memory that his muscles worked by pure reflex. Within thirty seconds of taking the cartridge from deputy Andrew's hand, Adam had loaded, aimed and fired the gun. As soon as the shot rang out, he began reloading the gun with practiced ease.

"Bullseye!" the announcer shouted, and after a second of shocked silence, the audience roared.

Adam hardly heard them, and before their voluminous applause had even half died down, he'd fired the second bullet and hit another bullseye.

Like the people around her, Madeline was watching Adam in complete fascination, so caught up in the excitement that she grabbed her uncle's arm, but even that didn't shake Paul out of his sudden stupefaction.

When Adam's third shot hit dead center like the previous two, Chet Rose looked physically sick and there was a new wave of ecstatic shouts and cheers from the crowd.

Ben Cartwright's head was spinning, both because of the phenomenal skill his oldest son was exhibiting, and because of the animated backslaps and shoulder shoves that were sending him flying in every other direction. Joe was literally jumping up and down, unable to stand still and Hoss had dropped his bag of nuts on the ground without even noticing.

As the fourth bullseye was called out, the reaction was oddly subdued. People were just too awestruck to find their voices or to move their hands and a blanket of comprehension fell on the crowd as everyone realized that Adam was about to beat the record of fifty-four points.

After he'd pulled the trigger for the fifth time, Adam was almost finished reloading the rifle and preparing for his sixth and final shot when something broke through his focused mind. The one voice he'd been listening for hadn't called out. He closed the breech of the gun and looked up at the mountain slope. The three spotters were standing by the target, apparently having a discussion. Then finally, one of them shook his head and signaled to the announcer who shouted to the audience, the disbelieving tone in his voice clear.

"Another bullseye! That's five bulls equal to fifty points!"

Raising the firearm, Adam placed the cap on the nipple of the gun and then rested his cheek against the stock as he fully cocked the hammer. The last shot echoed up the hill and there was an agonizing silence as Adam lowered the rifle and relaxed his stance, knowing he'd hit what he wanted. The spotter signaled wildly, and the announcer's voice pitched higher than it ever had.

"Bullseye again! That's six bullseyes equal to the maximum score of sixty points! We have a new record!"

The eruption of applause behind him ripped Adam out of his trance and it occurred to him that he probably should have missed the center with at least two or three shots. He'd just wanted to teach Chet Rose a lesson but after the first bullet had whizzed through the air, the urge to shoot to the best of his ability had taken over without him even realizing it.

Madeline had never experienced anything like this in her life and even though she couldn't share her exuberance with her completely stunned uncle, she was relishing every moment of the elated ambiance around her. Her eyes shone brightly, and they would not waver from the handsome Cartwright.

Forcing himself to turn around, Adam saw his youngest brother leaping towards him like an overexcited puppy.

"ADAM! HOW did you do that?! That was amazing!"

Before Adam could even open his mouth, his other brother grabbed him by the arms as if he was about to lift him up above people's heads.

"I ain't never seen anythin' like that before, I can't hardly believe it!"

Relieved that his boots maintained their contact with the ground, Adam noticed their father looking at him with an odd expression.

"Son . . .that was . . ."

"Pa?"

Parental pride shone through the surface of bafflement on Ben's face, but there was something else too. Adam was mystified and concerned when he couldn't place the hidden emotion in his father' features.

But now wasn't the time to start analyzing, the continued cheering reminded him of that. People instantly started shouting for more, wanting him to shoot at a target further away since the 300 yards clearly hadn't presented any challenge for him. Adam adopted a demeanor of indifference, hoping to discourage them as he went over to Chet Rose.

"You're right," he said, tossing the gun to the other man who caught it clumsily. "It's a fine rifle."

He walked back to his family and Chet crept off alone, his band of cowboys busy applauding the Cartwright.

Ben handed Adam his gun belt and Joe had never looked prouder standing next to his oldest brother. Several of Adam's friends came to shake his hand and a grinning Roy Coffee appeared as he let out his own stream of acclaiming babble.

When David Howell from the Territorial Enterprise showed up with pen and paper in his hands, Adam decided that it was quite time to get out of there. Thanking everyone for their kind words, he bowed his head humbly and turned to snake through the bystanders who reluctantly let him pass. The rest of the family followed him and the spectators chatted on, reliving the amazing show they'd just witnessed. There was no doubt that the "finest shot" shooting medal had been given to the wrong man.

"Oh, my goodness, Uncle Paul! That was extraordinary!" Madeline exclaimed, squeezing her uncle's arm as she walked away from the crowd with him.

"Yes . . . I knew he was good, of course, all the Cartwrights are but, that . . . that was quite something."

The rather dazed doctor escorted his niece back to the pavilion and Madeline quickly went to work, her countenance still glowing with excitement. Happiness flooded through Paul while he watched her. It was impossible not to be taken in by the constant, joyful smile that seemed engraved on her beautiful face.

xXXx

Ten minutes later, the four Cartwrights were walking side by side on their way to the International House when Joe spoke up from Adam's left.

"Adam, how'd you get that good?"

Adam puckered his lips for a moment. "Well, I finished top of my class in marksmanship at the Point." He shrugged. "During the war I got better too."

"Huh." Hoss scrunched his mouth up to one side. "How come ya never told us that? About bein' the best in class, I mean."

Ben looked over and saw his two younger sons studying their older brother intently.

"I don't know. I guess I thought it was more important to tell you about the engineering and architecture courses at the time." Adam said.

Hoss and Joe pondered over that a bit.

As they got closer to the International House, Adam eyed the building warily.

"I sure hope there weren't many from the Association in that audience."

Ben smiled weakly and gave Adam a comforting clap on the back.

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"