Chapter 3: Ponderosa Tears

A/N: I don't own any of the characters or stories of Bonanza.

Joe

I took her to all of the most beautiful places on my ranch. The little spring, the rivers, the great meadows, the overlooks, the shore of the lake, and the Great Mother Oak were all admired by Ruth's shining eyes.

It seemed as though Mother Nature wanted me to give Ruth a good first impression; every place we went to almost equaled Ruth in its splendor. When we at last arrived at the Great Mother Oak, Ruth unsaddled her horse and tied him to a strap my brothers and I had fastened around the tree as a tether for our horses.

Her fingers flew over the straps of the saddle, lithe and skilled, knowing exactly what they were to do. The saddle fell off the sweaty horse and into her arms, which were equally skilled and strong. The saddle was set down, leaning on its horn so that it could air out. This woman really knew what she was doing.

The saddle was on the ground and then Ruth was on the ground, stretched out and relaxed.

I unsaddled Cochise and set the saddle on the ground next to Ruth's. I lay down next to her. We were quiet, listening to the sounds of the wild. A smile danced over her lips.

"What are you thinking about? If you don't mind me asking, that is," I asked, cautiously. "No, I don't mind. I was thinking that I haven't had this much fun in a while, what with-" she sighed and looked away. The beautiful smile had vanished, replaced by a pool of sorrow. I wanted to kiss her sadness away.

"With what?" I prompted quietly.

"Nothing that should wreck this beautiful day," she said, attempting to smile again. But I could tell that she still hurt.

I stood up, offering her my hand.

"I want to show you something." She took my hand, and I pulled her to her feet. "Saddle up."

Ruth

Everything changed the second I let a sad thought cross my mind. And everything had been going so beautifully! And then I had to frown and ruin everything. Normally I would not have done that, as I keep my worries and feelings mostly to myself, my horse, and my journal. I was embarrassed.

But Joe was kind and offered his hand. When he helped me up, and we stood next to each other, I felt as I never before have in the presence of a man. I did not feel like a doll, or an ornament, or something to be taken care of. I felt as though he understood me and was there to help me.

At first, when I met this man, I had had my reservations about him. He seemed like he was one of the men that took advantage of women, under the guise of being a kind, good man. I had packed my gun, after all.

I was smart enough not to let my guard completely down, but I felt as if this man was different. I held his hand there, under the big oak tree, and felt relaxed as I had not in a long time. I smiled at him and turned to pick up my saddle.

I cinched up Lancer as he saddled his horse. We stepped up and reined our horses off, me following him, wondering where we were going.

We ended up in front of a large boulder.

"Please step down here, we're going to walk the rest of the way." He was suddenly very solemn, a smile no longer playing on his face. His green eyes, under the brim of his hat, were full of sorrow.

We stepped down and tied up the horses. He led me to a small, very worn footpath. His hand was on my elbow, guiding me. We came around the corner of the boulder, and a breathtaking view of the lake came upon us.

His hand was no longer on my elbow, but holding his hat. I took my hat off as well, wondering what we were paying respects to. Then my eyes were drawn to a gravestone. "This is my mother's grave. She died when I was very young." He looked away. His voice had dropped an octave. "I rarely bring anyone here. I just thought, seeing how sad you were-no. It was a silly idea. We should leave." He turned to go.

"No, no, wait! Joe, you don't know how much this means to me. My mother and my sister-" I stumbled over the words. "They died of the fever. I had already had it when I was young, but my mother didn't have it and neither did my sister. With my father being a drunk and spending all our money, I couldn't do anything to help-" I covered my mouth and turned away, holding in the sobs, not wanting him to hear me cry.

I felt his hand on my arm, gently squeezing. "It's alright to cry, Ruth."

I looked at him, and a single tear slid down his cheek. His hand on my arm sent shivers up and down my spine. It lent me strength. I had not felt this much pain over my mother and sister in all the time since I had traveled away from my father.

But it was too much to bear. I fell to my knees in front of the beautiful view of the lake, shaking with sobs, my head in my hands, my hat thrown on the ground. I felt him kneel down beside me through my sobbing and put his arm around me. We stayed that way for a while, me crying and him holding me.