Author's Notes

Hello everyone! After a very emotional chapter, this one is a little more lighthearted. I feel I can't say it enough—I really appreciate all your reviews. I will try to keep new chapters coming as quickly as possible and I hope you all like this one.

Chapter 17

Adam folded his hands by his mouth, his elbows leaning on the desk as he stared down at the letter. He'd looked forward to reading it ever since Hoss came home with the mail, and he'd naturally thought that Jim had written to give him another update on the men. But instead, this message was of a very personal nature and specifically involved Henry, Adam's second Lieutenant.

He picked up the letter and held it out in front of him, the seriousness in the written words pulling his dark eyebrows lower.

It was clear that Jim was concerned about their mutual friend and as Adam read for the second time, he wasn't that surprised by what Jim had to say. When the war had ended, Henry had been among the ones who seemed most affected by everything that had happened, and Adam had worried about him even then. But Henry was much like Adam himself, a quiet and reserved type who didn't really share his troubles. That common trait had brought them closer together though, and they'd spent quite a few nights gazing up at the stars, just being in each other's silent company when neither of them could face sleep. Since Adam had travelled home, they'd written to one another regularly, but Henry hadn't replied to his last letter a few weeks ago. And now, after reading Jim's description of their friend's state, he understood why.

Putting the letter down again, he pursed his lips and watched the flickering flame in the lamp on his desk. He knew what he wanted to do—he'd known after reading the first half of Jim's message. There was just one thing holding him back. Or rather, one person. And that was his father.

He sat there for another few minutes considering his options, but he realized that he wouldn't find a better solution than the one he already had in mind. So, he rose from the chair and went to open his bedroom door. Peeking out into the dark hall, he listened for any sounds but there were none. It was almost midnight and Joe and Hoss had both gone to bed early, but Adam hadn't heard his father come up yet. He stepped out into the hall and walked towards the top of the staircase. After taking the first two steps down, he had a clear view of the dimly lit sitting room and he stopped, a soft smile spreading across his mouth.

His father was sitting cross-legged in the red chair by the fireplace, wearing his burgundy robe. His head was slightly bowed, and the lines across his brow ran deeper than they did when he was relaxed. He appeared to be completely engrossed in the book in his hands.

Something strange happened as Adam stood there, and he suddenly felt a hard knot form in his chest. Although he was a grown man now, he felt like a little boy watching his pa in secret, like he'd sometimes done when he was little. It had been a game then, spying on him, sneaking up on him and Adam remembered feeling all proud every time his father jumped in shock when he finally revealed his hiding place. Afterwards, he'd receive some gentle admonishment for scaring his old man like that and a fair amount of tickling almost always followed. It was only when he'd gotten older, after Hoss and Joe had arrived, that he noticed how their father constantly had one eye on each of them and how he always seemed to be aware of where his children were. And Adam had realized that his own four-year-old self could never ever have sneaked up on that man.

They had been through so incredibly much together, just the two of them. Adam knew him in a way that Joe and Hoss didn't and never would. He remembered when there had been hardly any wrinkles on his father's face and when the now greyish-white hair had been dark—not as dark as his own—but darker than Joe's. Now, when he looked at that face, the past and present became one and the lines by the older man's eyes told of smiles, joy and fondness while his forehead told of a lifetime's worth of worries, grief and tragedy. But those deep coffee eyes were just as Adam had always known them, dark and intimidating but also warm and loving.

That was his hero sitting down there and though Adam rarely said it—and actually, he couldn't even remember when he'd last said it—he loved his father with all his heart. And while they didn't always agree on everything, they had been able to talk things over and reach some kind of understanding in most cases.

"Well, are you going to come down here or are you playing that hiding-watching game you used to play when you were a kid?"

Adam's thoughts scattered at the sudden words, and he chuckled a bit as he continued down the stairs. His pa had spoken without removing his attention from the book.

"You always did know where I was, didn't you?"

"I hate to break it to you, son, but you weren't exactly as discreet as you might like to think." Ben raised his head and closed the book as Adam reached the bottom of the staircase. "But I'll admit you got better as you grew older. And when you decided it was more interesting looking at girls than at me, keeping up with you became quite a challenge."

"Yea, I guess I didn't make it easy on you. You had enough important things to worry about."

"You were important too, Adam," Ben said quietly.

Adam didn't reply to that one. He came over to the fireplace and sat down on the edge of the table in front of the cold hearth.

"Pa, there's something I need to ask you."

"All right . . . what's on your mind?"

"I got a letter from Jim today. But it didn't have anything to do with my company or the army really." He glanced sideways and wasn't surprised to see the apprehension in his father's eyes. But he'd started this thing now and he had to go through with it. "Do you remember me mentioning my friend Henry to you?"

Leaning forward in the chair, Ben turned thoughtful. "Henry . . . yes, your second Lieutenant, wasn't he?"

"Yea. Well, he's going through a bit of a tough time and Jim is worried about him. I haven't heard from Henry in a while and that's why Jim wrote me, to tell me how he's doing."

Ben frowned. "And how is he doing?"

"According to Jim, he has good and bad days—sometimes he even seems like his old self. But on the bad days, he goes off to brood somewhere alone." Adam faced the hearth again. "I get the impression that he doesn't quite know what to do with himself at the moment."

"And you want to invite him out here to stay with us for a while?"

Adam's gaze fell to the floor and stayed there. "Yes. But you don't want me to do that, do you?"

Even though he'd expected the following silence, it still disappointed him. He had figured out why his father was so touchy about army-news and about his correspondence with Jim. He couldn't be angry though—he had no right to even be irritated. After all, the older man's private fears weren't exactly unfounded.

"If you think it best," Ben slowly said, "then, of course, we'll welcome Henry here at the Ponderosa and make it as comfortable for him as possible."

Not quite sure if he'd heard correctly, Adam twisted around to his father. ". . . You mean that?"

There was regret and even pain in Ben's countenance, but he covered most of it with a soft look of affection.

"He is your friend and you want to help him. How could I not support that?" As he continued, his voice suddenly sounded weaker and much older than it should. "I'm worried, yes." He looked directly at his son. "And you know why."

The impulse to turn his face away was so strong, but Adam didn't. "Yes. I know why."

Ben nodded quietly, then his eyes became imploring. "All I ask, is that you do your best. Do your best to . . . to keep yourself here with us, son." A sudden smile appeared and while it was nowhere near a grin, it definitely wasn't an empty one. "No matter how old you get, I'll always try to keep up with you and it would be a whole lot easier if you were close by."

Adam swallowed painfully, but managed to return the smile. "I'll do my best, Pa. I promise."

"All right. Then write your friend. He'll be welcome here with us."

The relief washed over him and now that the matter was settled, a little burst of excitement went through him.

"I know this will be a good thing for Henry. I can't tell you how many times I described the Ponderosa to him and he always said that there was no place in the world he would rather see than Lake Tahoe and the high Sierras. He'll love it."

"Mmm, just imagine seeing the sights of the Ponderosa for the first time again." Falling back against the backrest of the chair, Ben stretched out his legs. "It's a magical moment you only get once."

"Yea, it'll be just the right thing for him." Adam brushed a few crumbs off the table which must have been left behind after Hoss had eaten cookies earlier.

"Also, I want him to meet Madeline. I've written to both him and Jim about her and after Henry had spent half a letter kidding me about it, he was pretty interested to hear what she's like." A dimple showed by one side of Adam's mouth. "I'll just have to tell him not to go getting any ideas."

Ben scrutinized his son, his curiosity obvious. "Things have been going well between the two of you, haven't they? You've seemed very happy these last few days."

"Yea . . . I'm going to see her tomorrow. I've got something special planned that I hope she'll like."

"Hmm? Well, that sounds interesting."

With a smug expression, Adam stood from the table. "It will be."

He had that look about him when he was set on giving nothing else away and Ben released a rumbling chuckle as he shook his head. "Well, I'm also going to town tomorrow, to visit Roy. It probably won't be until sometime afternoon though."

"I'm planning on leaving earlier than that, but give my best to Roy if I don't run into him."

"All right, I will."

"Well, I'm for bed now," Adam said, and he thought he might actually be able to fall asleep straight away tonight. "Good night."

"Good night, son. Sleep well."

He walked across the room, over to the stairs and stopped. With one foot on the first step, he turned back around and he seldom allowed for such deep affection to show in his voice as he did then, saying only two little words.

"Thanks, Pa."

Ben regarded him with unmistakable tenderness. "You're welcome, Adam."

As Adam went up the stairs, he reminded himself never to doubt his father. There was no other person who knew or understood him as well as the man who had raised him. It was a powerful thing, his father's support and he only hoped that he would always have it.

The post office was the first stop Adam made the next day when he got to town. He'd written a letter to Henry and he had no doubt that his friend would be eager to accept the invitation to come out to Nevada. He also sent a wire to Jim, informing him of his plan. In the brief message, he asked Jim to tell Henry about it and to say that a letter with more details would be arriving.

Satisfied with that situation for now, Adam rode on down C Street, enjoying the sunny weather and the slow warmth building inside him like it always did when he was on his way to see Madeline. When he got to Sally's restaurant, he dismounted outside and tied Sport to the hitching rail. The door to the establishment was open and he quickly straightened his string tie and brushed the traces of trail-dust away from his white shirt before jumping up onto the boardwalk and going inside.

The restaurant wasn't too busy. Mostly female guests sat at the tables—many of them members of the Women's Social Club—and a little rush of pride ran through Adam when he noted that the majority of the cakes and pies filling their plates were Madeline's creations. It was amazing what she'd accomplished in just one month and how things had changed. She had won those women over, one by one, simply by being her kindhearted, genuine self, and he couldn't imagine that a person existed who could resist her charm. These days, he enjoyed hearing her excited talk about the meetings she went to every week because it clearly meant so much to her—being accepted by the other ladies and being able to help the community by taking part in different charity events. The need to be socially accepted was so ingrained in her, and while he sometimes wished that she didn't care so much about what other people thought, he understood that she had been brought up a certain way to be a very particular kind of woman. She was a born and bred Southern belle; graceful, sweet, and probably just a little too polite. But he loved her for all those things and wouldn't have her any other way. Her innocence and gentle nature might tempt some people in this rough part of the country to take advantage of her, but he would do everything he could to prevent that from happening.

Taking off his hat, he walked further into the room and inclined his head at the ladies who greeted him by the nearest table. He went over to the counter where Sally was stood with the cash-box. Leaning his arms on the tabletop, he treated her to a crooked smile.

"Well," she breathed, her round cheeks lifting, "if it isn't that dark'n handsome fella again. Someone is going to be mighty glad to see you."

"Hi Sally, is she in the kitchen?"

"Yes, she took an extra shift for one of the other girls, so she's been working since early morning. Get her out of here, will you?"

"My pleasure, Ma'am."

He gave her a sly wink; one of those winks that had caused more weak knees and butterflies on its own than many men could with their hands and lips. Sally Piper was just as affected by it as any woman would be and she followed him with her eyes as he ambled around the counter and disappeared through the doorway to the kitchen. It would take some kind of woman to tame him, and she smiled, already knowing that Madeline was the one to do it.

In the kitchen, Adam instantly spotted Madeline where she stood across the room by a work bench with her back to him. She was wearing that pale yellow dress—one of his favorites—although in truth, all her dresses were favorites of his. But the color of this one complemented her deep brown hair so perfectly, and then of course, it had those tiny puff sleeves which gave such a pleasing view of her milky-white arms and smooth shoulders.

He held his forefinger to his mouth to silence the cooks and waiters who'd seen him come in, and he crossed the floorboards with soundless steps. Stopping just behind her, he clasped his hands behind his back, standing close enough to look over her shoulder and see that she was stacking cookies neatly in a round tin. He took a moment to breathe in her sweet scent, then bent down to her ear.

"They look good."

She startled and fell back against his chest.

"Oh, Adam . . ."

The effect of her chiding tone was weakened by the little upturned quirk of her lips as she turned around to him. "You must stop sneaking up on me like that."

"Maybe I like sneaking up on you," he muttered and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. "When I see you from afar like that and you're in your own little world, the temptation is simply too great."

"Sir, you are terrible." Gentle creases formed just beneath her eyes. "And I must say, you look quite dapper today . . ."

He looked down at himself. "Thank you. I'm glad you approve."

"I do. I am also delighted and equally surprised to see a shirt of yours that doesn't appear to need mending."

While he loved to tease her, he probably enjoyed being teased by her just as much. That glint of cheekiness in her eyes sent a thrill through him each time he saw it.

"Thanks for fixing those shirts. The result was a hundred times better than when Hop Sing does it and you weren't nearly as fussy as he always is about it. Actually, you didn't make a fuss at all."

"I was happy to do it, you know that."

She turned back to continue stacking the cookies and he stepped up beside her, putting his hat down on the work bench.

"Are they new?"

"Actually, yes they are."

He made an effort to keep his eyes on her hands, hard as it was not to let them slide up her flawless, naked arms and to . . . other places.

"They are Southern tea cakes." She handed him one of the biscuits. "It's really just an easy type of sugar cookie. I thought I would try them on Sally and see what she thinks."

Biting into the little cake, he was expecting the usual biscuit-crunch but instead encountered a soft and pillowy texture. It had a nice flavor, simple and comforting somehow.

"They're good." He chewed the rest of the treat "Definitely a winner for Hoss."

"I'll leave some out, you can take them home with you later," she said distractedly and looked behind her. Surveying the room with wood-cook stoves and men and women at work, her brow furrowed in thought. "I am sure there was something else I needed to do."

Adam cleared his throat. "I should probably tell you that I was sent in here to remove you from the property."

Her concentrated expression turned into one of amusement and she faced him, one eyebrow arching up.

"Oh, really?

"Yea, so why don't you just get your things Miss, and we'll be on our way."

He casually hooked a thumb in his belt, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"All right." She smiled. "I'll just be a minute." She put the lid on the tin, leaving a few cookies out for the other Cartwrights each. "I thought perhaps we could stop by the store on the way home? I need a few items for cooking supper."

"Sure, we can go to the store if you want. But you won't be cooking supper."

Confused, Madeline stopped what she was doing. "I don't understand . . ."

"Oh yes!" His fingers snapped crisply in the air. "I forgot to mention that, didn't I? We're going out for a meal at the International House and then to a Shakespeare play at Maguire's Opera House afterwards."

Madeline's whole face lit up with excitement and she even bounced on her feet a little. "Adam! Oh, do you really mean it?!"

"Yep," he said, smirking.

"That sounds wonderful!"

He was relishing every bit of her animated reaction when suddenly, her enthusiasm seemed to dwindle and her eyes grew big and worried. "Oh, but what about Uncle Paul . . . ?"

"Well, I suppose we could ask him if he wants to come along." Adam peeked over his shoulder at the rest of the kitchen, then moved closer to her face, his voice lowering. "But, you see . . . I was kinda hoping to have you all to myself the whole evening . . ."

She smiled faintly. "I know . . . but lately he has seemed rather quiet, and I just get the feeling that he is a little . . . well, sad. I haven't seen him much this week."

"It's all right, Madeline," Adam said reassuringly. Although he would have preferred to be alone with her, he knew that he'd been pushing it this week with all the time he'd spent with her and there was no need to test Paul's patience even more. "We'll ask him if he wants to join us. He always likes the Shakespeare plays."

"Thank you," she said, her appearance brightening again.

Adam waved a finger at her. "As long as he doesn't sit in between us like he did when we went on that church picnic last week. And like the other evening, when he decided to sit himself down right in the middle of the settee while we were playing checkers. I'm—" Adam halted, narrowing his eyes at her as his arm dropped back down to his side. "You still think that was really funny, don't you?"

"I'm sorry, it's just . . . the look on your face was—" She covered her mouth with a hand, but a muffled giggle escaped her and she dipped her head.

He tried to adopt a slightly offended attitude, but it probably didn't work so well. She was just too adorable. "I'm pleased that my face causes you such amusement."

"Adam, I'm sorry," she half said, half giggled and drew in a careful breath to compose herself, her eyes shimmering. "I was just laughing at the incident. There is nothing funny about your face."

"Hmm, and just how would you describe my face?"

Her gaze flickered out towards the rest of the kitchen, then back to him and she spoke in a hushed tone. "As I'm sure you know, Mr. Cartwright . . . you are a very handsome man . . ."

"Why, Miss Delaney . . ." He crossed his arms and did a head-tilt with a touch of cocky. "Are you trying to make me blush in public?"

She laughed, "I think perhaps you should go out and wait with Sally while I get my things. You are much too distracting in this mood."

"Okay, I'll go out to Sally," he said, picking up his hat. "But if you're not out there in two minutes, I'm coming back in here."

"I'll be quick. We don't want to be late for the play."

He watched her for another few seconds as she put the cookies for his family in a bag and the eagerness in her movements was so clear. Yes, this had definitely been a good idea. Feeling pretty pleased with himself, he headed back out of the kitchen to wait for her.

"Your move, doc."

"I am well aware, Roy."

Ben peered over the top of the Territorial Enterprise and he and the sheriff shared a look of puzzlement, complete with raised eyebrows. Roy exhaled quietly and sat back in his creaking chair as the doctor opposite him stared at the chess board between them.

Lowering the newspaper to his lap, Ben rested one hand on Roy's desk. "Paul, is something the matter?"

In one swift motion, Paul moved his bishop and took out his opponent's knight.

"No, Ben. Everything is perfectly fine."

The sheriff's office became silent again, the only noise in the room coming from the three squeaking chairs. Roy adjusted his glasses and considered the board in concentration when Paul picked up his pocket watch from the desk and checked the time. He replaced the item with a little thud and leaned back, uncrossing his legs only to cross them again the other way. Ben glanced at him from behind the newspaper, then returned to the article about an Indian raid on a waystation near the Humboldt River route.

It was no more than two minutes later when Paul lifted his watch again, the movement catching the Cartwright's attention.

"Is there somewhere you would rather be than here, Paul?"

The little clock was snapped closed with a sharp sound.

"No, no place at all. Thanks to your oldest son who kindly offered to take Madeline out for a meal at the International House and to the theater afterwards, the rest of my day is completely free unless someone breaks a leg, goes into labor, gets shot or stabbed."

The doctor gave a tight smile which looked like it was actually hurting his face, then he turned back to the chess board. Roy moved one of his pawns and took off his glasses.

"Well, I reckon they'll have a right fine time those two. The other day when Adam came by, we went to have lunch at Sally's Restaurant and Madeline joined us in her break. I swear, for a full five minutes the boy forgot I was even there!"

"Yes, I can imagine. Believe me," Paul mumbled and stretched out a hand to make his next play.

"Is there something wrong with Adam escorting Madeline this evening?" Ben asked and studied the doctor who'd been in a strange mood ever since he came into the sheriff's office. "You don't seem too happy about it."

"Oh, I'm pleased as Punch. It's a Shakespearean comedy they're seeing. I'm sure they'll enjoy it and discuss it tonight over coffee back at home." Paul calmly went on despite the tension emanating from him. "And then of course, it's Friday tomorrow and Madeline will be visiting your ranch as she usually does and her and Adam can continue their stimulating conversation which seems to never . . . die . . . out."

Roy's hand hovered over his remaining bishop and he aimed a cautious look over at the agitated doctor.

"I think you should've gone along with 'em, doc. You usually go whenever it's Shakespeare, it might have been a good evening for you too."

"Thank you for that reflection Roy, but I try not to flaunt my fifth wheel status in public more than once a day, if possible."

"So that's what's bothering you!" Ben broke in and slapped the newspaper down onto the desk. "You feel like you're a fifth wheel?"

"Well how can I not?!" Paul's voice pitched up, something inside him finally breaking free. "Do you know that I've barely sat down and had more than a ten-minute talk alone with Madeline this week? Lately, whenever she isn't working at Sally's or attending some social club event, Adam has been monopolizing her time. He is like a little stray puppy dog—constantly there wherever she is. Check"—the doctor snatched another of Roy's pawns with a jolty hand movement—"Yes, whenever I turn around, he is there . . ."

"Now Paul," Ben started smoothly, "I understand how you feel, Adam certainly hasn't been spending much of his time at the ranch this week. But I think we all saw this coming, hmm?"

"I suppose so . . . but things are moving so fast!" Paul released a huff and tugged at his earlobe. "I only want what's best for her. I'm not sure she is ready for all this."

"Listen, if you think that Adam isn't good enough for—"

"Oh, don't get your feathers all ruffled, Ben," the doctor said, effectively cutting through his friend's defensive tone, "I am quite sure that before this day is over, I will have been given another verbal account of the numerous, wonderous qualities of Adam Cartwright. My niece's enthusiasm leaves little room for me to harbor any doubts about his honorable character, even if I did have any."

Roy made his next chess move while listening to his friends with interest.

"It's just that . . . I only just got her back."

The hard look on Ben's face melted away as the doctor all of a sudden turned completely crestfallen.

"You feel like she's slipping away from you . . ."

"Yes. I guess I do." Paul stared down at the wooden desk. "Over the last few months, I suppose I've gotten so used to having her around all the time. It simply never occurred to me before, how satisfying it could be having someone to come home to, someone to share supper with every evening. Oh, it's not that I mind Adam being around so often, not really." Paul's eyes went distant and his posture slumped. "It's the fact, that I know that he will eventually take her away from me."

Shifting uncomfortably, Roy watched the melancholy doctor opposite him with sympathy.

"I know what you mean, doc. When my Mary died, that was the hardest thing. Comin' home to an empty house, havin' no one to talk to about my day. At least havin' good friends eased the pain of it a little."

"I guess that I've been lucky there," Ben said, "with all that I've lost, I still have my boys. Finally, I have all three of them home. But a part of me secretly dreads the day when they leave the ranch and start their own families." He quickly shook that painful notion away and leaned closer to the frowning doctor.

"But Paul, if Adam and Madeline decide to start a life of their own together, he could never take her away from you—nor would he want to. He has far too much respect for you to do that. And Madeline loves you deeply, that's clear by the way she acts and talks about you."

Paul's sight stayed fixed to the desk.

"And another thing," Ben said, scratching his chin, "it's plain to see the remarkable effect their relationship has had on Adam, but I know that you've noticed the change in Madeline too. I remember when she first came here, she was so shy and insecure. The first time I met her, she seemed almost fearful of being out around town . . ." He paused when Paul's hesitant gaze met his own. The brief eye contact left the Cartwright's brows crunched together in that perceptive look that appeared whenever he was trying to work something perplexing out.

"Anyway . . ." he continued, "she has truly come a long way since then and I do believe that Adam has had a hand in that development."

"I reckon Ben is right about that one," Roy said, stepping carefully around the odd, unspoken exchange going on between his two friends. "She sure has come out of her shell, walks around like a little ray of sunshine when she's with him."

"I think that you should consider just which one of you it is who isn't ready for all this, Paul." Ben eyed the pondering doctor. "Her or yourself."

A long, silent moment went by, and the lines buried in Paul's forehead smoothed out little by little. Suddenly, he reached out and moved his bishop across the chess board.

"Check Mate."

When he faced the two other men, there was a hint of a reluctant smile in his features.

"I suppose you're right . . . both of you. There's no use in me fighting this thing. Also, it would be much too tiring. That son of yours is stubborn as a mule."

Ben chuckled in relief and clapped Paul on the arm.

"I can't argue with you there. Don't worry too much, I'm sure things will work out just fine."

"Well," Paul sighed and placed his pocket watch inside his vest. "At least there are some perks to this infatuation he seems to have with her. With my upcoming trip to San Francisco, I know that she'll be safe and well taken care of while I'm away."

"I'm glad you see it that way doc, that's mighty good of ya," Roy said as he began resetting the chess pieces for another game. "Here I was, thinking you'd feel quite the opposite about that. You know, leavin' her alone with him here for a whole week 'n all."

Ben was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to cover his face with a palm. He was just contemplating whether using his hand to wipe the sheriff's smirk away wouldn't be a better course of action when Paul turned to him with gritted teeth.

"Ben. Would you care to join me in a game of chess? I feel positively terrible about keeping Roy from his paperwork."

He cast a look onto the mound of papers bunched together at the side of the desk. With a placating nod, Roy settled his glasses back across his nose and grabbed the top paper off the pile. Ben's eyes made a brief trip heavenward before he turned the chess board so it stood between him and Paul.

"I hope at least one of you Cartwrights will provide me with a challenge. During his late evening visits, Adam always lets me win, probably to appease me." Paul let out a grunt of ridicule. "As if I don't know exactly what the lad is up to."

"Oh, I'll give you a challenge, Paul." Ben grinned. "Don't you worry."