Epilogue, by Kaatje

The sky was a perfect shade of September blue that could even make Virginia City look good. Hot and dry as it already was, he was enjoying a mid morning stroll. The beds at the International House left something to be desired, and this was one way to work out the kinks. Besides, it provided him an excuse to skip some conversation. He answered the occasional greeting or nod in kind. If the townsfolk found it strange to see him wearing a suit, or with a shine on his boots, they didn't show it.

"Elijah!"

If the woman's shout hadn't gotten Adam's attention, the pink blur would have. The sound of a clattering buggy approaching made him hurry. Ranch-trained reflexes served him well. Scooping up the slippery creature before it escaped into the street was but the work of a moment. His back didn't even twinge, much. It would take a little longer to slow a quickly beating heart. Dampness seeped through two layers of clothing as the giggling bundle settled more comfortably in his arms. Adam looked down into laughing brown eyes that shone with appreciation for his joining in the game. One boy to another, having fun. Only after the chase did he notice the wet splotches from small bare feet on the boards of the sidewalk.

"Not so funny, young man." He could see his words had little effect, and fought the urge to smile, despite the scare. The two year old was never easy to scold.

"You naughty boy!" The woman was breathless as she reached them, towel in hand. Her arms opened and soon the fair haired angel was decently wrapped and nestled against his mother. Motherly chiding was negated by kisses and rocking. She finally pressed her face against her son's strawberry blonde curls in silent thankfulness. The toddler smirked at Adam. It had been a grand race, after all.

Adam shook his head at the boy. "He's as big a handful as Thomas."

The petite blonde sighed. "I'm afraid they both take after me."

He chuckled. "Really? Most women would blame the father."

"Tom?" Folly relaxed and smiled at him. "If that were so, they'd be little angels, instead of—well, instead of the rascals they are. Thank you, Adam."

"Oh, it was no harder than catching a greased pig." He winked at the giggling child. He really was a lot like his older sibling, though his eyes were the same warm brown as Tom's. No spectacles for either child yet, though. "Where is big brother today?"

Her attention was on her little one again. "Thomas is inside with his Pa, counting thimbles and other notions. Ever since Tom taught him, counting is his favorite game. Now we're trying to convince him tidying up afterward is part of the fun."

"Good luck. Tidying isn't fun to most four year olds. Well, I'll be on my way." He was stopped by fingers on his arm.

"Is it true? Billy Murdoch's getting out?"

He hesitated, but it seemed word was out anyway. "Yes, he's out. Due in on the ten o'clock stage, in fact. Marshal Taylor, too." At her dubious expression, he added. "They won't be staying long. Folly—you know your testimony helped him. If not for you, Roy and Taylor, Billy would have been sentenced to hang."

"It didn't seem right." She shifted the child in her arms, letting his weight rest more on her hip. "Dirk was gone, and Billy was just a boy. After Ray's heart gave out on him, that was two—"

Adam refrained from speaking and let her go on. Ray Farrow had died of his own venom, according to Paul. The man knew he had a weak heart and needed to contain his fury, but he couldn't. The eldest Farrow hadn't lived long enough to go before the judge. As for Byron, he'd turned himself in when he learned his father was behind bars. The expensive attorney he'd retained hadn't helped much. He was probably going to serve his full term. Assuming he lived through that, he could go back to enjoying what little Farrow wealth survived. Folly's testimony had been surprising and he'd had some doubts as to the truth of it. She'd claimed Dirk had boasted he was going to kill Billy Murdoch, and that had been a mitigating circumstance, in the eyes of the jury. A life sentence had been given, instead of death. Miraculously, Amos Taylor's pull had eventually secured the young man's release. A United States marshal had influence, and Taylor seemed to have more connections than most. Roy Coffee's good word hadn't hurt either. Still, nearly five years at hard labor was no easy thing. He wasn't sure this would be the fresh start Roy and Pa seemed to believe in. Even under the current terms, living under the marshal's protective custody for the next year, there was no assurance Murdoch would make it.

"What?"

Folly asked again. "I said I was surprised you'd wear a suit for him. You didn't really approve of it all, did you?"

He grimaced briefly, and straightened a damp right lapel. "I'm not wearing this for him. He's coming into town and I'm leaving. I have a little business to take care of. As for Billy—he'll have his second chance, with Taylor. That's more than Dirk got."

Her eyes moistened. "Yes, I know."

Before he could leave, he felt a light touch on his arm again.

"I do thank you for catching Elijah. You've been a good friend to us, and the boys. If not for you and your family, some folks wouldn't have accepted a—well, not everyone was ready to see us as a family. As a matter of fact, Tom and I almost named this one Adam."

Her earnestness made him laugh. "Well, you could say he was dressed as the first Adam, today."

Long lashed green eyes looked him up and down with disarming directness, before Folly turned away, her cheeks a deeper pink than before.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" He hadn't meant to what? Embarrass a former saloon madam? Not that Folly wasn't devoted to Tom, but her reaction was a little surprising.

"It's my own fault." She closed her eyes. "Adam, you don't need to apologize. You have—" Her lips pressed together, and she started again, even as she unexpectedly blushed more. "You have nothing at all to be ashamed about."

"Adam, good morning! Are my wife and son keeping you?" Tom's cheery voice rang out from the doorway of the Mercantile. Always busy, the man had a broom in hand, and four year old Thomas stood at his father's side, waving.

He waved back. It was fortunate for Tom's peace of mind that he wasn't a jealous man. Folly's blush might have stirred suspicions in a less contented husband. "No, not at all, but I should be going."

____________

"I'm glad you made it back, son." Ben's voice was warm. "Not that I'd mind you missing this particular stage."

"Now, Pa." He cleared his throat, seeing his brothers' grins, and their own suits and polished boots. Even Roy had gone all out today. "It's just a vacation."

"Reckon we'd be glad to go along." Hoss beamed, but his blue eyes sparkled. "I ain't never seen those pyramids, neither."

Joe's smile was a little wobbly. "Yeah, me neither."

"If you meant that, you'd have packed. Think of all the chores you'd miss." He was surprised by a rush of sentiment, even though he'd been preparing for weeks. Maybe it would have been safer to slip off first, and send them a letter of explanation.

"Here it comes." Roy shaded his eyes and then checked his pocket watch. "Danged if it ain't right on time, too."

Adam watched the approach as if he'd never seen a stagecoach before. He gave himself an internal shake. After all, he'd be back.

Stagecoach passengers didn't waste a lot of time disembarking. Harness jingled as the men hastened with the team change. Amos Taylor hadn't changed much. He was the same solid older man who'd performed a rescue, years before. Billy Murdoch was another story. It wasn't that he looked so much older than his twenty-four years, but there was something broken about him. The way he held himself—the way he couldn't meet any eyes, and his nervous swallowing. Gaunt would be an apt description, too, but that had been expected.

Hearty handshakes were exchanged with Taylor, and more hesitant ones with young Murdoch. The marshal's touch on the younger man's arm seemed to calm him. He even looked up at Roy, tentatively.

"Good to see you, Billy." Roy was as casual as could be about it.

A smile touched Murdoch's face. "Just Bill, now."

"Good to see you, just Bill." Hoss welcomed. "You can go ahead an' put your bag and yourself in the wagon. The sooner we get you out to the Ponderosa, the sooner we can start gettin' you some good food."

The young man smiled a little more as Joe and Ben agreed. He hurried to the boot of the coach and gathered two carpet bags, showing he was ready to get on with it. Amos Taylor followed, clearly pleased to see his charge showing some signs of life.

"Shame the man's sons died." Roy said quietly.

Ben clapped him on the shoulder. "I think he has one left."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. All kinds of ways for a man to have family." Roy suddenly turned and thrust out a hand. "Son, I wish you all the best. I'll hope to be hearin' about all them sights."

Adam returned the clasp warmly. "Thanks, Roy. I'm sure Pa will share the news, and I'll write, too. I know you don't have much time for reading, though."

"Ain't that the truth." Roy grinned, released his hand and walked away.

Adam smiled as he felt Ben's hand on his shoulder. "He kept it nice and simple. I'll be writing to you all, of course."

"No doubt of that, older brother." Joe almost winked. "You be careful."

"I'll be as careful as you will, younger brother." They hadn't used those terms for some time, but it seemed fitting to tease.

Hoss stepped in close. "You do better than that."

"I will." It was time to leave now. Grown men couldn't embrace in public, it wasn't dignified. He soon discovered his family had other ideas. A thoroughly hugged, back-slapped and rumpled Cartwright boarded the stage.

The End