After two days of hard riding, Ben Cartwright and his two sons were only a few miles from Chia Springs. They had been skirting the top of Carson Lake when it simply became too dark to continue and they pitched camp on the lakeshore.

The air was still this night and the surface of the lake shone like a burnished silver tray in the moonlight. Ben stood on the water's edge looking down on his reflection staring back at him. His dipped head alerted Hoss and Joe who exchanged glances.

"What's eatin' you, Pa?" asked Hoss from where he sat poking at the fire with a stick.

"What else?" said Joe. "Older Brother."

Ben turned, his look dark as he stared long and hard at Joe. But as he walked back into the circle of firelight, he shook his head and sighed.

"I know you think I worry too much, but that's what fathers do. Hopefully you'll discover that for yourselves one day." He looked from Hoss to Joe who both suddenly found other things to occupy their attentions.

"I can say with all honesty, Hoss, that you're the one who causes me the least sleepless nights out of the three of you."

"Hey!" Joe's voice was indignant.

"Don't you 'hey' me, young man. From the minute you learned to walk I've been chasing around after you. You've been injured more times than I can count. All of us have to live with you in the aftermath of your romantic entanglements…"

Joe sat up from where he had been leaning against his upturned saddle. "You make me sound like I fall in love every week."

Hoss sniggered. Ben merely raised an eyebrow. "It seemed that way once upon a time. Let's see now. Morvath Terry, Eloise Villon, Tirza, Melinda Banning—"

"Ah come on, Pa, I wasn't really serious about any of them."

Ben tilted his head. "Julia Bulette, Amy Bishop." He paused. "Laura White."

The look of amusement on Joe's face faded and he looked down. As Ben stepped past him, he gripped his youngest's shoulder with a warm comforting hand. He would not linger on what would always be painful subjects for Joe.

Ben settled back against his saddle. "Adam had to grow up too fast. He didn't have the boyhood you enjoyed, Joe, and he didn't develop the deep roots that kept him content to stay in one place, like you, Hoss. He's always had itchy feet, a need to seek out new experiences and new places. It's one of the reasons he left."

"I thought that was down to Laura Dayton," mumbled Hoss.

"Yes, she was a part of it. His injury was also a factor. The realisation you might not be able to do the things you once took for granted can change a man."

Joe frowned. "But he stood up, Pa, he walked, he made a full recovery."

Ben looked over at Joe. "In his body, yes, but perhaps not so in his mind."

The men were silent for several long minutes, all three staring into the fire, lost in their thoughts. But then Hoss spoke.

"Do you remember that time when he almost burned down the house?"

Joe's head flicked towards his brother? "What? I don't remember that."

Ben chuckled. "You weren't born when it happened. Hoss, you must have been, what, four or five?"

"About that. I gotta few memories of that day, but just fleetin' images. Most of all I remember feelin' surprise. Surprise that Adam could be naughty just like me." A look of awe crossed Hoss's face as he thought back.

"What happened?" Joe leaned back to grab an apple from his saddle bag.

"Your brother decided he wanted to try smoking my pipe." Ben's eyebrows arched high. "He waited until I'd ridden out to the bottomland, or thought I had. He was supposed to be looking after you." He inclined his head towards Hoss. "Instead he took the pipe from my desk, went behind the barn and tried to light it. And then I arrived home. Early." He paused.

Joe pulled the apple from his teeth. "Well, what happened then?"

"I could see Hoss sitting on the edge of the porch, completely engrossed in something or other. So I picked him up and said, 'let's go look for your brother, shall we.'"

Hoss grinned. "I can remember what happened next."

"We checked the house. He wasn't there. So I checked the barn and could hear someone coughing. So, still holding Hoss, I walked around behind the barn and there was your older brother, my pipe in his hand, his eyes watering, coughing up his lungs. He saw me and promptly dropped the pipe."

A wide grin split Joe's face. "But how did he almost burn down the house?"

"It had been an especially dry summer, and while I was telling Adam exactly what I thought of him leaving his brother to wander around by himself while he had stolen my pipe and tried smoking it, the tobacco in the pipe ignited some dry-as-kindling grass and before long the barn had started to smoulder, and, well, let's just say the three of us, including Hoss here, got very dirty, very wet and very exhausted, running around with buckets of water putting out the fire."

Joe looked a little disappointed. "So, the house didn't almost burn down?"

Ben pursed his lips. "No, but if the barn had gone up, then the house might have been next."

Hoss grinned. "Adam sure got a lickin' that day."

"The young reprobate couldn't sit down properly for at least a week."

The men were silent for a few moments and then Ben turned to look at Hoss. "What on earth made you think of Adam and the pipe?"

Hoss was scratching at the earth with a twig. "I got to thinkin' about Adam growin' up way too soon and not havin' much of a boyhood. He was always studyin' and readin' and helpin' you and lookin' after me 'n' Joe. And I remembered him and the pipe, and it seemed there were times when he was just like me and Joe, gettin' inta trouble, and gettin' licked for it."

Ben chuckled, the rumble deep in his throat. "There were other times, you probably don't remember. Adam got himself into trouble more times than I can count."

Hoss sat forward. "See that's just it, Pa. We ain't seen him for six years, and up 'til he left he had gotten all serious and weren't talking much, and, I ain't gonna lie, he weren't no fun to be around." Hoss threw his stick on the fire. "But I don't care 'bout that no more. I just want my brother back. He can be the orneriest, moodiest cuss there ever was, that's o' no mind. I just want him home."

~8~

Adam and Clara woke the next morning with hungry bellies; their meal the night before had been a humble affair which had left them both nearly as hungry after eating as before.

The previous afternoon, Adam had left Clara sitting amongst the rocks and had slithered back down to the forest edge in search of food. He had contemplated returning to the river and catching a fish or two, but concluded it was too risky; Cordell's men might still be in the valley. He'd also be away from Clara for too long. He spent a good half-hour searching the forest floor for signs of fresh runs and animal droppings, and his effort paid off when he spotted a trail leading to the entrance of a small burrow. Tearing long fibres from the bark of a tree, he made a noose and rigged up the snare. By the time he had finished his fingernails were shredded and the skin on his hands was bloody and torn. But it was a small price to pay for a meal.

That task accomplished, and after making note of a few landmarks to help him find the snare again, Adam followed another run leading away from the burrow, praying it would lead to water. He was lucky. The trail led directly to a small stream trickling down the forest slope. Adam scrambled up the valley side and followed the stream to its source, a natural outlet in the rock from an underwater system. Cupping his hands, he brought the water to his mouth and enjoyed the sweetest drink he could recall in a long time. His eyes closed as he let the ice cold liquid pour down his throat and over his face. Several gulps later, and feeling refreshed and revived, he returned to the base of the rocks and called up to Clara. A blond head appeared and Adam beckoned her down to drink.

Returning to the snare sometime later, Adam found his efforts had paid off, for hooked in the trap was a ground squirrel. It was a scrawny creature, barely enough to feed one let alone two people who hadn't eaten since sun-up, but it would suffice for now. Preparing the creature to be eaten without a knife was a messy business, but it wasn't the first time Adam had used his fingers and teeth to skin and gut an animal in the wild—he and his father had learnt many tactics for survival as they'd forged a life for themselves in the Sierra. And after the dying sun had lowered trailing a blood-red sky in its wake, and darkness had once more consumed the light, Adam deemed it safe to set a fire. The tiny beast was devoured in no time.

But the setting of the sun took more than the light, for as the darkness crept across the land, it brought with it a chill that seeped through to their very bones. Clara cloaked her shoulders and arms in the torn strip of material from her skirts and folded her legs beneath her, but not even a fire could stop her limbs from shivering. Their rocky hideaway retained some warmth from the sun's rays but this soon faded and without blankets Adam knew they were destined to endure a cold night. Clara curled up facing away from Adam, who stayed awake to feed the fire and keep a watch out for mountain lions and cougars. But despite the cold, he soon found his eyes growing heavy and he succumbed to a deep sleep with his back against a rock and his head hanging over his chest.

Adam opened his eyes the next morning to a hazy grey light and cold air that loitered like an unwelcome miasma. He groaned as he raised his head, his neck having grown stiff from being tucked on his chest for the last few hours. He kneaded the muscles in his back with one arm, and peered down at the girl who had shifted in her sleep. At some time in the night, she had turned over and flattened herself against his outstretched legs, unknowingly reaching out for his warmth. All he could see was an unruly mop of hair covering her face. He placed his hand on her shoulder to wake her. Bleary eyes blinked into wakefulness, but when she saw how close she was to him she shimmied backwards, looking all around her with startled eyes. Then her shoulders slumped.

"I thought it was all a dream; that I was lying next to Mama." She looked at Adam. "But it was real. Mama really is gone."

Adam cast his eyes down and said nothing. After a few moments Clara spoke again. "I have to...I need to go to…"

Adam pointed. "Go behind those rocks there, but don't go far. I'll be here when you get back."

With Clara taking care of private business, Adam turned and walked stiffly in the opposite direction to do the same. She was gone for longer than he was comfortable with and he was about to go looking for her when she walked back into their makeshift camp. Her shoulders were still slumped, she was dragging her feet and it was clear she had been crying. Adam held out his hand to her but Clara hesitated and waited until he had lowered his arm before taking a few steps towards him.

"Where are we going to go?" she asked.

"South. We'll follow the river to Tahoe. My family are there; we'll be safe."

"The men went that way."

Adam nodded. "They did. But they'll be miles away by now. We'll stay in the forest and only go to the river when we need water and food."

Clara sat down heavily, her fingers tracing a crack across the granite surface. "I'm scared, Adam."

Adam looked across at the ridge on the opposite side of the valley bathed in the light of the new sun. He thought for a few moments and then crouched down so he was at Clara's eye level, his hands curled around her shoulders.

"Clara, while I'm still breathing, have two legs to stand on and a fist to fight with, I promise to protect you. I'll keep you safe. But you gotta trust me and do what I tell ya. Do we have a deal?"

Clara's lips turned inward as she considered, but then she nodded.

Adam smiled. "Good girl."

He held out his hand. She paused, then took it and let him lead her down through the rocks to the forest below.

~8~

"Are you telling me three people were kidnapped right under your nose and you did nothing to stop it?"

Ben Cartwright's voice was reaching unprecedented levels, despite it being a couple of hours past dawn. With his fists planted firmly on a ramshackle desk, Ben leaned over the seated Chia Springs sheriff who stared up as his accuser, his nails clawing at the desk edge. The man was hanging onto his temper as best he could, but at the latest accusation he jumped to his feet and mirrored Ben's pose so precisely that the two men were nose to nose. Unfortunately he was a small man, and he had to stare up at the imposing figure of Ben Cartwright looming over him. And it didn't help the sheriff's composure that he had been rudely awakened from his bed when the light in the room was grey and he hadn't had a chance to dress properly. He stood before them in a shirt and pants, bereft of his vest and coat and the shiny star that imbued him with authority.

"I'm one man, Cartwright, and there were seven o' them. What did you expect me to do, walk out there and get myself killed?"

"It was your duty to stop it."

"You weren't here. They had guns levelled on every door and every curtain that so much as twitched."

"You could have tried."

"And this town would have a dead sheriff."

The two men glared at each other with unblinking eyes, but then Hoss spoke up.

"He's right, Pa. One man cain't take on an army. 'Specially if you're a puny little fella like the sheriff here."

The sheriff straightened up and looked indignantly at Hoss. "Hey!"

"No offence intended, Sheriff."

"Well, offence has been taken, sonny." The sheriff straightened and moved out from behind his desk, pointing at the three men in turn as he did.

"You said you rode here from Virginia City. Well, from what I heard, that place is full o' lawless hoodlums, fast women an' sharp-talking gamblers. And you might be able to ride roughshod over the sheriff there, but you got no right to charge in here and accuse me o' goodness knows what."

Ben took a step towards him, his own finger rising in opposition to the sheriff's. "At least our sheriff isn't afraid to step up to trouble when it's staring him in the face."

The small man lifted his shoulders and chin, but no amount of posturing would stand him on the same level as big Ben Cartwright. It didn't stop him from trying though, and as Ben stared down at him, the little sheriff returned the glare, looking straight up Ben's nostrils.

Their stand-off was broken by a calm voice from the back of the office. "Seems to me the only trouble you'll get here is the occasional missing parasol or an out-of-control mule."

"Now lookee here, who do you think you're talking to..." The sheriff began to cross the room towards Joe who was standing with his arms crossed, lounging against the door to the cells. Joe shifted away from the door but Ben caught the man's arm as he passed, stopping him in his tracks. Ben eyed the angry sheriff and after a moment patted his shoulder.

"Boys, personal insults will get us nowhere. I taught you better than that." His black eyes pierced the shadows of the room and two Cartwright sons shuffled where they stood. Two renditions of 'Sorry, Pa' echoed through the office.

Ben turned back to the sheriff. "My sons are worried for their brother." Ben paused and took a breath. "I'm worried for their brother."

The sheriff grunted and cricked his neck. "Well, I guess I can understand you being riled up by circumstances would cause you to forget your manners when addressin' an officer of the law."

Ben looked at Joe and they both rolled their eyes as the sheriff turned away and re-took his seat behind the desk.

"What do you know about the woman and girl who were taken?"

The sheriff's chair creaked as he sat back. "Not much. They kept to themselves, didn't talk to no one from what I heard. I saw them once on their way to the pools. The woman had her head stuck up in the air as if the whole place was beneath her."

Ben shook his head. "I can't make sense of this. Adam wasn't supposed to be here. He said in his telegram that stopping here was a last minute decision." The room was silent whilst Ben mulled over the facts. "He never gave the impression in his letters that he was in trouble." He looked up and looked at each man in turn. "So, was the woman the one they were after? In which case, why take Adam?"

Joe snorted. "He's a Cartwright, Pa. He probably put himself right in the centre of whatever was going on."

Ben found half a smile. "You're probably right there, son."

Hoss had been staring out the window at the quiet street. "Ya know, maybe the sheriff's right. There was nothing he could do."

The sheriff slumped back in his chair from where he'd been leaning forward listening to Ben's deliberations. "That's what I been trying to tell you."

Hoss turned, ignoring the sheriff. "Adam was never an easy man to take. I know, I tried enough times when we was young 'uns. The only time me or Joe could get the better o' him was when he wasn't lookin' or we tricked him."

Joe let out a loud breath. "They must have got the jump on him."

"At last you fellas are talking sense. It's what I was saying. There was just too many of them, and they bought a whole herd of horses in to town with 'em, clean terrified the townsfolk."

Ben frowned as he swivelled towards the sheriff. "Horses?"

"Pa, they've got a remuda." Joe pushed away from the cell door and walked over to his father. "We should be able to track them. They'll leave a trail even Mrs. Carmedy at the boarding house could follow." Mrs. Carmedy was well known in Virginia City for her short-sightedness. When addressed by a person in the street, she would move in close, squint up her glasses at them and only then realise who she was talking to. She had been the source of many a schoolboy prank in Joe's youth.

Ben felt a surge of hope; more than he'd felt since riding into this tiny desert town. He gripped Joe's arm. "Go to the hotel, collect Adam's gear and find out what you can about the woman and girl who were taken. Hoss and I will gather some provisions together for the trail. We'll meet you at the front of the hotel in half an hour."

Joe nigh on bounced out of the office, and it was with a sudden sense of pride that Ben watched him head to the hotel with his back straight and shoulders squared with determination. His sons never let him down. When one was in trouble, the other two would always step up to the mark, and many times would step right on over it too.

Indicating to Hoss it was time to go, Ben stood in the open doorway and looked back at the little man behind the desk.

"I hope we don't meet again, Sheriff."

He nodded over his shoulder at the street which was stirring to life behind him.

"You have a growing town here, and the more people that come, the more likely you'll face trouble. Bear that in mind the next time you turn your back on someone in need."

As Hoss squeezed passed him, Ben looked at the sheriff with an expression of such disgust the little man turned his head to avoid Ben's eyes. And with a final shake of his head, Ben slammed the door behind him.