"Good to see you, Mr. Cartwright."

"And you, Mr. Weems."

Joe gripped the bank manager's proffered hand, then tucked the packet of paperwork under one arm and slid his hat into place. He shouldn't have been surprised to be back in Virginia City again so soon, all things considered. After his successful supply run last week—the way Pa had looked him over when he got home, Joe had felt a like a kid coming in from his first solo ride to school—Ben had apparently decided enough was enough, at least where town was concerned. The Cartwrights had contracts waiting to be signed, payments waiting to be made, and Ben was not inclined these days to make a ride of that length with any regularity. Joe's signature was the only other (active) one on the bank account, and it was time for him to start facing the world again.

Probably, Pa thought it would be good for him on other fronts too.

"Was right sorry to hear about Mrs. Cartwright, Joe. I didn't know her, but my Ida says she was a good woman."

"She was, Mr. Weems. Thank you."

Might have been, too, if people would just quit reminding him. Every conversation didn't have to be about his dead wife, did it? (Not about the baby, at least. Joe thanked the good Lord he and Alice hadn't told many people outside the family yet about their baby, then knew a flash of hot guilt before realizing he had almost tripped down the bank's front steps in his distraction.) Wasn't it remotely possible that something else of interest was happening in a town the size of Virginia City?

Joe stopped on the sidewalk and let the crowds flow past, taking it all in with an indifference that would have shocked the seventeen-year-old him. Back then when it all started, a few huts, a few tents, a dozen makeshift saloons, and a roper sellin' Paiute antelope out of a half-built storefront had seemed the height of excitement. Now … well, Little Joe Cartwright's mind would have boggled.

Too bad Little Joe Cartwright wasn't here instead of … whoever he was now.

A ruckus from across the way rose over the general din, and a couple of cowboys erupted out the batwings of the Old Bucket saloon, poundin' each other like their lives depended on the win. A crowd followed, yellin' and cheerin' and probably takin' bets. Joe recognized a couple of the men—Tom Harris and Rowdy Davisson—and ducked into the shadow of the bank before either one noticed him. Was a time not too long ago when he'da been over there too, through those doors as soon as his business at the bank was done. He'd had a hard time after Hoss, though—wasn't the same drinkin' with friends when he knew he'd never be drinkin' again with the man he really wanted—and now the thought of all them people talkin' at once, asking questions, just made him vaguely sick.

He wasn't ready to go home either, though. His pa, who had spent a good chunk of Joe's life scolding him for getting lost in a saloon or at a poker table instead of coming straight home after his errands were finished, would no doubt look worried and wish his boy had stopped for a drink.

Seemed sometimes like a man just couldn't win.

Anyway, Joe had a different reason for sticking around town a little longer. He'd thought … well, he thought he might try out visiting for a spell.

He hadn't really meant to go back, despite her invitation. He sure didn't plan to spill any more of his guts to the woman—once was bad enough. But, Joe craved the easy interaction Lina Marquez had offered with a kind of intensity that was almost startling in his otherwise featureless existence. He was still a social man, despite the rest of it all.

He didn't want to shut himself off. He just couldn't seem to handle anything else.

If he just made it clear from the outset he hadn't come to talk …

As Joe approached the door to Lina's little bakery at the rear of the Continental Hotel, though, he paused. Was that … yes. Laughter. Which meant she wasn't alone. Well, there went that plan. The disappointment was stronger than he had expected, and Joe couldn't help a peek through the little window to see who had beat him there.

Lina actually was alone, as far as he could tell—except for a letter clutched against her blouse. That looked to be the source of her amusement, for even as he watched she snuck a peek at the pages then burst into a fresh round of giggles. The unfettered merriment was … soothing. Joe leaned his head against the door for a moment and closed his eyes, soaking in the sound.

No one at home laughed like this anymore. Especially not him.

A tap on the window against his face made Joe jump. Lina smirked at him through the tiny panes, then came the quick scrape of a lock sliding back. (She locked herself in? Didn't it get hot in there?) "Joselito!" She flung open the door and turned back into the room, leaving Joe to close it behind. (He left the lock unlatched, in case this was a bad idea and he needed a quick getaway.) By the time he joined her, Lina had thumped a coffee cup onto the counter and was pouring into it from a battered little pot. "I am so happy to see you—I've had such a letter!"

The lame protest Joe had been forming against the possibility of serious discussion faded, replaced by a vague curiosity. "Yeah?" He took a sip, nodding his thanks.

It had been a long time since anybody had shared news just because it was funny.

"Maria …" Lina's breath hitched, and the giggles kept on as she placed a several cookie-looking things (churros and polvorones, she would later tell him, but for now they were just treats covered in cinnamon and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that) on a clean towel beside him. "Three pages …" Another burst, and she waved the flour-covered missive. "About their goat …" Lina collapsed against the counter, and followed with something he couldn't even make out.

Despite everything, her utter lack of control made him want to join in. "What?"

"Suspenders!" She gasped. "Manuel's suspenders, and his … his …" Manuel. The husband? Joe wondered if Lina might actually hurt herself trying to get this out. "Two whole days …" she managed.

A faint half-grin curved his lips. "Might take me that long to figure out what you're talkin' about, woman."

Lina bent almost double, an unladylike snort echoing in the little space, and Joe was suddenly very glad he had come.

~.~.~.~.~