SEVEN

Ben Cartwright didn't know whether to be furious or relieved.

He leaned back in his chair as he waited for Hop Sing to bring in the tea and let Bella lead the conversation. She was a charming hostess and quite good at it. Bella was twenty-six now. She had grown from the perky and precocious little girl he remembered into a full-grown woman. It was partially due to the passage of the years, of course. Unfortunately, there was another, more regretful reason for her newfound maturity.

Bella had been put through the fire.

As Bella asked Doctor Brandon about his time in South Carolina, Ben let his mind drift, recalling the letters she had sent him after the wedding. Though there was always a longing in them for the life she might have had with Joseph, she'd seemed content with the man she had married. Michael Clark Ashton was well known in the Portland area. His father, Maynard, had been one of the nascent city's shipping magnates and made a fortune. He'd done business with Maynard's company a time or two and been well satisfied. When the patriarch of the family died unexpectedly in a shipwreck, the shipping company – along with all of Maynard's other diversified interests – had gone to his children with his eldest son, Michael, taking over the role as president. Michael's younger brother, Raphael, and his sister, Mary, shared the vice-presidency. He'd met Michael when he was a young man, probably no more than twenty years of age. By the time Bella married him, he had to have been well over forty. It had surprised him at first that the young, vibrant creature he'd hosted at the Ponderosa had decided to marry such a staid older man.

Then he had found out about Bella's father.

Several years after the family made the move to Oregon, Levi Carnaby suffered a fit of apoplexy and was left paralyzed. When news of the terrible event reached them he 'd offered to help, but Levi and Mary refused any charity. Ben shook his head. He didn't know how Bella had pulled it off, but apparently neither of them were aware of the fact that she was marrying to provide them with just that. Her letters indicated she loved Michael Ashton, but it was with the love of a woman far beyond her years – a woman who was willing to sacrifice personal happiness in order to provide for the ones she loved.

Much as he disagreed with her choice, he had to honor her for it.

Ben shifted and turned as Hop Sing entered the room. He smiled at his old friend and watched as the man from China brought the tea to the table. He'd prepared three cups. Doctor Brandon insisted he add a fourth. It seemed the physician knew Doctor Kam Lee and, as Hop Sing was eager to hear about the Chinese doctor, he sat down and entered the conversation.

Ben took a sip as he continued to ruminate. Bella's letters had begun to intimate that something was wrong with her husband about a year after she and Michael married. Where Ashton had always been the picture of health, suddenly he was constant in pain. They believed it to be occasioned by a back injury he had incurred when serving on one of his father's ships. Sadly, they were soon to learn it was nothing of the kind.

It was cancer.

Bella and Michael went to Europe to seek a cure, but the specialists there held out no more hope for his recovery than did the ones in Portland or San Francisco. Bella wrote once or twice while they were abroad. Upon their return, she began to report faithfully on their life again. Michael's pain was no better and he had begun to have dark moods. Bella was not only frightened for him but, at times, of him. Eventually they discovered that the medication one of the European physicians had prescribed had brought about his anger and actually aggravated his depression. Once they discovered the cause and he stopped taking it, Ashton had again become the man Bella knew and loved. The last six months of their married life had been bittersweet.

He remembered the tear stains on the letter that announced her husband's death.

Ben took another sip. He nodded his appreciation to Hop Sing's for the choice of Pu-erh tea as his cook rose to leave. It carried quite a wallop and he was going to need the energy to sit up with Jamie tonight. The boy had awakened briefly. Once he realized he was home, the redhead had relaxed.

That was, until Doctor Martin mentioned Joe.

"Mister Cartwright," Beverly Brandon asked, breaking into his reverie. "Would it be all right for me to see your son before I go?"

Ben sat his cup down. "If it is all right with Paul."

Professional courtesy was a constant in the medical trade and Doctor Brandon understood. "Is Doctor Martin with your son now?"

"He's in Jamie's room," Bella said. "Unless he's left."

"Paul is heading out tonight for some much needed rest," Ben explained. "He said both Jamie and Joe are well enough for him to do so. He needs to attend to other patients and then he will come back the day after tomorrow."

Doctor Brandon rose to his feet. "I have a room in town. I will return tomorrow then."

Ben shook his head. "You can stay here with us. We have more than enough room. That way you can see Joseph in the morning."

The blond man pursed his lips and nodded. "If it is no trouble."

He indicated he should sit down. Ben waited a moment and then asked, "Will you tell me what you have been treating my son for?"

Brandon sighed. "I'm afraid I can't, Mister Cartwright. Not without your son's permission." The city doctor hesitated. A slight smile lifted his lips and curled the tips of his thin mustache. "I imagine he will be none too pleased to see me."

Ben imagined he was right. If there was one thing that was a constant with Joseph, it was refusing to admit that he needed any kind of help. "What brought you here, then, if you don't mind me asking? I mean, if Joe didn't want me to know something was wrong."

The doctor's eyes went to Bella.

She had moved to sit at his side. Ben took her hand. "You can talk in front of Bella."

"Very well." Brandon thought a moment as if choosing his words carefully. "I have been seeing your son for several months. In the beginning, it seemed he was improving, but lately..." He hesitated. "Lately I have seen signs that have disturbed me. I told Joseph if he failed to appear at his next appointment, I would be compelled to come to you." The doctor opened his hands wide. "And here I am."

Ben didn't have to ask what those signs were. Melancholia. Dejection.

An unbridled temper.

Ben started to reply, but stopped as Paul Martin appeared at the top of the steps, black bag in hand. He descended to the floor and walked over to them.

They all rose.

"Paul," Ben said, "this is Doctor Brandon from Carson City. Doctor Brandon, Paul Martin, our physician of long-standing in Virginia City."

Both men inclined their heads and then shook hands.

"Doctor Brandon has been seeing Joseph," Ben said, broaching what he knew would be a touchy subject.

For a moment Paul said nothing. Then he asked, a hint of disapproval in his tone, "Doctor Beverly Brandon? Of South Carolina?"

Brandon inclined his head. "The same."

Ben was confused. "Do you know each other?"

Paul shook his head. "My knowledge of Doctor Brandon is professional," his said, his tone guarded. "He has had some success with treating melancholia in veterans of the war between the states."

"Both Union and Confederate," the city doctor supplied.

"Julian, my assistant, is quite a devotee of yours," his old friend said. "I admit, I have read some of your papers and I am not entirely convinced of the efficacy of your treatments."

Ben swallowed over his fear. Treatments that Joe might be taking.

"The success rate far outweighs the failures," Brandon countered coolly.

"But there have been failures. I believe one or two of the veterans committed suicide."

"There were other factors," the city doctor replied. "Some cases are more complicated than others."

"Is this what you are treating my son for?" Ben demanded.

Both doctors turned toward him.

"Ben," Paul cautioned, "Joe is a grown man, responsible for his own choices. Doctor Brandon is, regrettably, not at liberty to tell either you or me the answer to that question without your son's permission."

Regrettably.

His son might be in danger but, regrettably, there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

"I assure you, Mister Cartwright, the treatment Joe is under is harmless." Brandon's gaze was steady. He seemed a man who meant what he said. "It is one that I have used with dozens of men and all have prospered by it. In fact, President Lincoln before his untimely death was under the same care."

Ben felt Bella stiffen. Her gaze went to the city doctor and then flew to the stairs with concern. He watched her rise.

"I'm going to go sit with Joe, if that's all right," she said.

Paul Martin considered it. "He won't be awake. I gave him a sleeping draft." His old friend looked at him. "The boy was too restless for his own good."

Doctor Brandon was nodding as if he agreed. "Rest is the best remedy."

"I won't wake him," she replied. "I'll check in on Jamie too, if that's all right."

Ben felt suddenly weary. He'd had to cope with two sons injured at once before. But before, he had had a third son to help and he had been much younger.

"How is Jamie?" he asked.

"His fever is slight and the cuts seem to be healing well thanks to Hop Sing's remedies," Paul said. "He should be sleeping as well. I sedated Jamie too so he wouldn't move around. It's wise to let those wounds heal properly before he begins to stir. Give it another day or two and he should be able to be up for a few hours at a time."

Ben turned to the young woman who waited near the bottom of the stairs. In some ways Bella put him in mind of Marie. Bella was tiny and petite and simply a stunning creature. But it was more than that. In spite of the setbacks life had handed her, he sensed Bella Carnaby Ashton was a woman with a purpose, and that purpose was to see that his older son got well.

The older man rose and crossed to her. Kissing her on the cheek, he sent her on her way. As he watched Bella mount the stairs, Ben wondered what was behind her sudden impulse to see Joseph. Still, he didn't wonder very long.

Whatever it was, it was for his beloved son's good.

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"Well, if that don't beat all!" Candy shoved his hat back on his head and let out a low whistle. "There's dumb, and then there's plain dumb."

He and Benjamin had parted ways for the moment. The boy had gone off with one of the older drovers to see what sights there were to be seen when you were looking at a river of beef. He'd taken off to look for strays and had found one sitting in the middle of the road.

On top of a city slicker.

Candy moved his horse forward a few steps. "You need a hand, mister?"

"Get this...leviathan off of me!" came the sharp reply.

The foreman grinned. "Well now, he looks mighty content. I figure that old beeve was looking for a good cushion to take a rest on after his flight for freedom and you're it."

The man was reaching out with his hand, clawing at the dirt. "If...I could reach my...firearm...I'd shoot it!"

"Mister, I think you need to think about that. Right now he's just sitting on you 'cause he's tired. You shoot him and one of two things are gonna happen – you're gonna make him mad and he's gonna rise up and stomp on you, or you're gonna kill him and a half ton of dead cow is gonna crash down on you."

"Then...then...what am I supposed to do!" the man spluttered.

Candy shrugged. "Ask him politely to move?"

The city slicker's skin was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. His eyes went wide as he stared at the unbothered steer.

"My good man!" he exclaimed. "I have money. I'll give you anything you want..."

The Ponderosa's foreman shook his head. "No deal. Mister Cartwright pays me well. There just ain't nothin' I need."

"Cartwright? Benjamin Cartwright?"

Candy wrinkled his nose. It hadn't occurred to him that this fashion plate might be a friend of the Cartwrights. With a sigh he threw his leg over his saddle and dismounted.

"You know the Cartwrights?" he asked as he approached.

"I am practically a relative!" the man snapped. "I've come to see Bella Ashton!"

Damn.

Candy exchanged a look with the steer.

There was a lot of sympathy in those black eyes.

Taking the animal by the horns, the brown-haired man began to tug. With a grunt, he said, "They don't call them bull-headed for nothin'."

"I demand you free me!"

"I'm doin' my best." Candy stepped back and sized up the beeve. It seemed pretty content. Truth to tell, he'd of been happy to leave the dandy trapped under him until the steer decided it was time to move on – if he hadn't been afraid Mister Cartwright would disagree.

"I got an idea," Candy said and started to walk away.

"Don't you dare leave me!"

"I ain't leavin'. Keep those fancy britches of yours on," he shot back.

The Ponderosa foreman stopped at the edge of the road. He cleared his throat and then began to sing.

"What kind of an idiot are you? This is not a music hall!"

"Shut up!" Candy yelled back. Then he started again. He wasn't the best singer, but 'get along little dogey' worked its magic. The steer bellowed, shifted back – forcing a grunt from its fancy cushion – and then rose to its feet and started down the road.

The city slicker climbed shakily to his feet and began to dust himself off. "What anyone sees in this untamed wilderness is beyond me!" he snarled. Firing him an angry look, he demanded, "What are you going to do about that animal?"

Candy glanced at the steer. He was munchin' grass and mindin' his own business. "Ain't much I see needs doing," he replied.

"Why, that horror almost killed me! I demand you call the sheriff!"

His eyebrows popped. "Why? You planning on having him arrested?"

"You idiot! I plan on having it shot!"

The steer snorted.

He agreed. Seemed to him it was someone other than that beeve needed shootin'.

As Candy opened his mouth to reply, the sound of hooves driving hard into the ground caught his attention. He looked and saw Benjamin Carnaby riding hard toward him. The boy drew his mount in and was off its back before it stopped moving.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Someone shot off a gun near the herd," Ben said, breathless. "Half of them spooked. George sent me to get you."

"Good lord!" the slicker gasped. "There are more of the ghastly beasts? Will they come through here? Am I in danger?"

Before Candy could think of a suitable reply, he saw Benjamin's eyes go wide with surprise. "Rafe!"the boy exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Rafe?

He tried not to snigger.

"I am here because your sister has no sense. She needs looking after," the dandy said as he straightened his fine wool coat that was not so fine anymore.

"Bella's got me," Benjamin protested.

"You are a child."

The kid's smile was triumphant. "And you are covered with shit!"

Candy wrinkled his nose.

It was true.

The foreman inclined his head toward Rafe and looked at Benjamin. "Friend of yours?"

The kid scowled. "Hardly. He's my brother-in-law."

Oh.

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Bella stood in the hall outside of the room where Jamie slept – the one that was Joe's – her heart pounding hard in her chest. It couldn't be.

Could it?

Not again.

Tiptoeing to the door she opened it and went in. She stood just inside of it for a moment, listening to the boy's breathing. It was even and she thought Jamie was asleep. The draught the doctor had given him should keep him under, but she knew from experience that might not be the case. As she stood there, considering what she should do, her mind returned to the horrific period just after she and her husband had returned from Europe. A very experienced and well-respected doctor had given Michael a medication to help him rest and buoy his spirits. At first it had seemed to work. Her husband had been happier. But then, on the voyage back, he grew short-tempered and slipped into a dark melancholia. Michael struggled to contain his temper even with her. One day, after they had returned home, it had boiled over into a rage that left several irreplaceable family heirlooms shattered on the parlor floor. In the midst of the fit, he had almost struck her.

Her husband was old enough and wise enough to realize that something was wrong. The only thing he could pin it down to was the medication the highly acclaimed and lauded doctor had given him. He went to another physician who assured him the pills had nothing to do with his unexpected outbursts. That man said those were the result of his having to face a fatal condition. They had almost given up hope when a friend of the family suggested seeing an old-fashioned general practitioner who had been with Michael's family since he'd been a child. Doctor Morley took one look at the ingredients listed on the label on the amber bottle and paled. Licorice, rose honey, hollyhock.

One-third mercury.

Michael's brain was slowly being poisoned.

It seemed the medicine had once been the toast of both continents and considered a wonder drug. Then, reports of effects on the side began to surface – tremendous mood swings, insomnia and headache, tremors, weakness, and abnormal sensations that made the patient think he was going mad. Rumor had it that President Lincoln had been prescribed the same thing, but had stopped taking it after he lifted one of his cabinet members from the floor by the neck and nearly choked the man to death. Lincoln, it seemed, had the strength of will to choose to discontinue its use. There were others though who clung to the drug in spite of the warnings, as though it was a miracle cure they could not live without. And still others whom it seemed could not live withoutit. There had been suicides. One man's heart had stopped abruptly.

It was called Blue Mass.

"Joe..." she whispered.

Determined, Bella moved into Joe's room. She cast a quick look at the sleeping boy in the bed and then began to search, looking everywhere a man might hide something he didn't want others to find. She pulled out drawers and felt under them. She rummaged through Joe's shirts and pants. While she was sure Joe thought there was nothing wrong with taking the medication, she knew him well enough to know that he would hide it. Her anger flared as she considered the smug doctor from Carson City, so sure he knew better than Paul Martin how to take care of the man she loved. If Joe was taking the pills then that could explain the signs Ben and the others had seen – his impulsive anger and violent rages, the cruel words he had spoken to those he loved and, most of all, his hatred of himself.

Five minutes later, Bella stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips. She'd found nothing, but that didn't mean she was going to give up. The pills were there, she knew it! Just as she thought to begin again, her eyes fell on the nightstand by the bed. She hadn't searched it. That was where someone who had nothing to hide would put a bottle of pills.

Bella froze. Then she laughed.

Joe wasn't a boy anymore like the one occupying his bed. He was a man. His father wouldn't go through the things in his room. There would be no need to hide the pills.

Walking to the nightstand, she quietly opened the drawer. It was there. The amber snake.

A bottle of Blue Mass with a dozen or more pills inside.

Bella hesitated and then palmed the medication. She closed the drawer and went to the bedroom door. With a last look at Jamie to make sure he was still sleeping, she stepped into the hall. Her eyes went to the room Joe occupied and then to the stairs which led down to the great room where both the doctors and Mister Ben were.

Which should she choose?

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Joe stirred and opened his eyes. For a moment he had no idea where he was, then he remembered awakening earlier and realizing he was in Adam's room. He looked at it now with renewed pain. It had been over a decade since his older brother had left to see the world and Pa kept his room like a shrine. Sure, he missed his brother – he always would – but you had to move on.

The second the thought crossed his mind, Joe was shamed.

Wasn't that what Pa had told him about Alice and Tanner?

Carefully, mindful of the fact that just about everything he had hurt like hell, Joe pulled himself up and rested his injured back against the pillows. Being in Adam's room was like a punch in the gut. He could almost see his older brother standing by the bed with his arms folded, one shoulder braced on the wall and one eyebrow cocked high as he softly scolded him.

If you want to be treated like a man, little brother, you'd better start acting like one.

He's been acting like a child.

And he didn't know why.

Joe had been surprised to awaken alone. From what little he remembered, there'd been someone at his side day and night – Pa, old Doc Martin, Candy even. And someone else. A woman. In his fevered state he'd thought it was Alice. For the life of him, he couldn't remember who she was, though he was sure she had told him her name. Joe looked at the door, which was mostly closed. He knew from the comings and goings outside it that Jamie had to be in his bedroom across the hall. The Doc must have kept them together when they first got to the house, since it would have been easier to tend both of them that way, and then Pa had moved him here.

He had to see Jamie. He had to see that his little brother was all right. He had to –

Apologize.

God, how was he going to apologize to someone he almost killed?

Determined, Joe pushed himself away from the pillows. Gritting his teeth, he moved his lower body to the side and worked his way to the edge of the bed. Once there he stopped, breathing hard. The motion sickened his stomach and put stars before his eyes, but he didn't care. He was going to get up. He was going to make it across that hall and go into that room and throw himself on the kid's mercy. He had to make Jamie understand that he loved him, that he would die before he would hurt him on purpose.

Joe sucked in a sob.

Death was all around him and none of them were his.

It wasn't that he wanted to die. Not really. If he was honest with himself, he damn well didn't want to. But he wanted to stop hurting the people he loved and since he couldn't seem to do that, being out of their life was about the only way he could see to make it happen. He'd made up his mind. He'd go see Jamie and then he'd leave. He'd do it late at night when no one was watching him – when they thought Doc Martin's medicine had knocked him flat.

Medicine.

Joe scowled. What day was it? And when was he supposed to have gone to Carson City? He'd skipped on visit with Doctor Brandon already.

If it had been two...

As he stood there, the sound of men's voices raised in disagreement floated up the stairs. Joe could barely hear them, but he knew one was his pa. Another might have been Paul Martin's. He thought so but wasn't sure. The third he didn't know.

At least, he hoped he didn't know it.

Joe drew a deep breath and, with his badly cut arms, pushed himself up and off the bed. Pain shot through his injured shoulder as he did, taking his breath away. Fortunately, his legs had made it through the battle with the barbed wire in fairly good shape and they carried him to the door where he leaned his head against the jamb and listened.

"...quackery!" one man exclaimed.

"...telling me, Paul...son in danger?"

"...listen to...country bumpkin!"

Yeah, that third one was Doctor Brandon.

"Oops," Joe whispered and winced.

Taking hold of the latch, he pulled the door inward. The problem was, he was leaning his weight on it, so when the door opened he swung in with it. A second later he lost his footing and ended up in a painful pile on the floor.

"Ouch," he conceded. "Damn."

"Your pa will wash your mouth out with soap if he hears you cussing," a soft voice remarked.

At last. He was gonna find out who the mystery woman was!

Joe heard the swish of skirts as the woman sank to the floor behind him. It reminded him of his ma. He couldn't remember much about his mother other than she smelled like lilac and her dress had made that same sound whenever she came into his room and reached over to tuck him into bed. A pair of arms circled his chest and a head rested on his back. Tears wet the cuts the wire had left.

He tried to turn to look at her, but she held him fast.

"What are you doing out of bed, you silly boy?" the woman asked softly.

Her voice was familiar, but not recognizable. It was like he had heard it before, but from a distance. Maybe a long distance.

"Who...?"

There was a small laugh. "We can't keep meeting like this, you know?"

"Like what?" he asked. "On the floor?"

Fingers explored his hair. He thought about shifting away from them, but there was something familiar – something...calming about the touch.

"In a creek. In the snow. In the presence of a madman. And now, on the floor." The woman paused. Tears made her voice shake. "Joe Cartwright, don't you think I've rescued you often enough?"

Her grip on him lessened – slightly. Enough for him to turn and look. The face that greeted him was one he knew but, like his own, it had changed. That youthful beauty he had admired as a twenty-two year old boy had ripened into a woman's full splendor.

Joe lifted his hand to capture her chin in his fingers.

"Bella," he breathed.

She smiled through her tears. "You said to check back in four or five years."

For the first time in a long time, he smiled. "I sure did."

"Well, here I am," she said with a shrug.

Joe frowned. "Bella, I..."

Her finger went to his lips. She shook her head. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. A second later, pulling back, Bella favored him with an impish grin.

"I think your Pa is coming up. Shall we give him a surprise?"

"You're crazy," he said.

Bella rose. She held a hand out and then, with effort helped him to stand. Moving on his own, but leaning heavily on her, Joe walked back to the bed and literally fell into it. Bella pushed the door to and then came to the bed and climbed in on the other side. She scooted over until she was next to him and once again circled his waist with her arms.

"Do you think you can sleep?" she asked, concern coloring her tone.

"Mm-hmm," he said, already halfway there.

Joe felt her hand on his forehead, caressing it. "Go to sleep, little brother. I'm here now. I'll take care you. Everything is going to be all right."

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Ben had shown Doctor Beverly Brandon to the door. Once Paul had pulled from the other man the treatment he had prescribed for Joe, the battle had been joined. Modern medicine warred with good old-fashioned common sense. It had been up to him to choose.

In the end, his trust in Paul Martin won out.

Slowly, the older man climbed the stairs. He went to Joe's room to check Jamie first and then headed across the hall to the room that had been his eldest son's. Ben listened for a moment and then pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him brought tears to his eyes. Just like they had so many years before, Joe and Bella lay on the bed together breaking the house rules.

And what a joy it was that they were!