FIVE

Nels Oleson was a busy man. Always busy. Between the mercantile business, his nagging wife, and his two...darling...children, it seemed that someone was always demanding something from him. Now, here it was, the beginning of a new day and he'd already had to lace Harriet's corset, tie ribbons in Nellie's hair before she headed to school, shoo Willie out of the candy and upstairs to get his books, and open the door early to two strangers who were banging on it and making a racket. In the end it turned out that they didn't want him after all, but were looking for the post office to see if letter or wire had arrived from their employer. Of course, Grace wasn't in yet, and so now they were wandering around the store looking at things they had no intention of buying, and since he didn't know them from Adam, he had to watch them wander around to make certain neither one stole anything. And on top of that one was young – maybe twenty – and it seemed he had caught Nellie's eye because, instead of heading out to school, she was lingering on the porch with her nose pressed up against the glass.

Nels sighed.

And it wasn't even eight o'clock yet.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you fellows?" he asked for the third time.

The older of the two – a man with golden hair about thirty years old – turned to look at him. He favored him with a smile. "No, sir. We're just waitin' on that office to open."

"What brings you to our little town? We're a bit off the beaten track," he said as he polished the glass on the front of the counter, wiping away Willie's fingerprints.

There was a pause. Nels caught the two men looking at each other out of the corner of his eye. Then the older one answered, "A business associate of our employer failed to show up for an important meeting. He wired the train station where the man disembarked. He bought a horse at the livery and then disappeared. Our employer is worried about him."

"Oh?" Nels said standing up. "Why would he be in Walnut Grove?"

"Mister Poavey is a lumber man. He's got us checking all the mill towns between here and Medary," the younger man said as he lifted the lid to a candy jar and helped himself to a peppermint.

"That'll be five cents," Nels said.

The young man smiled. "I'll catch you before we leave. I'm mighty fond of peppermint."

The thin storekeeper moved behind the counter. "So what does this man look like? The one you're hunting?"

"Oh, he'd be about my age. Around thirty. Curly brown hair and a big smile. Green eyes." He held his hand at his forehead. "Kind of small. You know, three or four inches short of six foot? He's mighty sassy and sure of himself like them little men are. Big mouth too."

It was apparent this man did not like whoever they were looking for. "Nothing more specific?" he asked, thinking that description for the most part fit Charles Ingalls.

"Oh, I'll know him when I see him," the older of the two grinned. "Used to be buddies."

"But not anymore?"

A light entered the man's eyes. It was enough to tell him that – if he had seen this man – there would be no way he would have told these two about it. "No. Just business associates. We got a contract, Clayton here and me, with that man."

"Oh!" a familiar female voice exclaimed. "And who are these two fine gentlemen?"

Nels stifled a sigh as Harriet bustled in and practically pushed him out of the way in her eagerness to impress.

"This is my wife, Harriet." He looked the men over. The one with golden hair was thin-faced. His speech was drawling, with just the hint of a southern accent. The other one was baby-faced, with black hair cropped close on the sides and long on the top, and a pair of piercing and slightly unnerving ice blue eyes. Both were dressed well. They looked more like ranchers or cattlemen.

Or outlaws.

"I'm afraid I neglected to get your names..."

The younger one spoke with the peppermint stick hanging out of his mouth. "Clayton. Clayton Crew," he said.

Nels nodded. "And you would be?"

The blond stared at him. His eyes too were light, but they were like a summer's morn that hid a storm to come.

"Donavan," he said as he extended a hand. "Dave Donavan. Pleased to meet you."

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Laura looked up at her Pa and grinned. Then she looked at Mary who was holding Pa's other hand. He'd surprised them that morning by telling them that he was going to walk them into town. He explained that he had another day or two before the new project at Mister Hanson's mill would begin. He needed to go into town, but had no need to hurry to get there or back home, so he thought he'd just take a walk with the two most beautiful women in town, their Ma excepted, of course. Since Pa was gonna work around the house today, partly to help Ma with watching Joe, he had on his fine blue and green check shirt and a pair of his linsey-woolsey trousers and looked just about as handsome as handsome could be!

Laura sighed so deep looking at him she felt it right down to her toes.

"Somethin' wrong, Half-pint?" her pa asked, looking down at her.

"No, sir." She squeezed his hand and glanced at Mary, who nodded. "I'd say just about everything that could be was right with the world."

He smiled that little smile that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows danced. "Just 'cause I'm walkin' you two to school?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Well, you know, Pa, you're mighty busy most of the time. I... We like to spend time with you and since we ain't...well, boys, we don't get to do right often."

"So, let's see... You'd like to spend more time diggin' wells and muckin' out stalls and workin' in the hot sun cuttin' down crops." The dimples deepened. "Is that what you're tryin' to tell me? 'Cause if it is I can talk to your Ma – "

Both girls giggled. "I wouldn't mind goin' huntin'," she said wistfully.

Her pa nodded. "Maybe next year."

Laura drew a breath. He'd said 'yes!'.

"If your ma says it's okay."

Her balloon popped, Laura sobered. Ma would never let her go hunting.

They'd arrived at the school, so Pa stopped walking. "Well, here you are!" he declared.

"Where you going next, Pa?" Mary asked as he planted a kiss on her sister's head.

"To the mill and then to Doctor Baker's. Hiram's got some more medicine for Joe."

Mary was quiet a moment. Laura saw her eyes flick to her and then away. "Is he all right now, Pa? Joe, I mean? He's going to make it, isn't he?"

Her father placed a hand on her shoulder as he answered. "God willing. He'd through the worst of it. The fever's down. Still, he's got a lot of healin' to do." Pa hesitated and then looked down at her. "You all right, Half-pint?"

She didn't look at him. "Yes, sir."

"Mary, why don't you go on inside and see if Miss Beadle needs any help since you got some time before the bell rings?"

"I'd like that!" Mary replied. Her sister looked at her then, concern in those big blue eyes. "See you soon, Laura."

Pa took her hand and led her over to a bench outside the school and sat her down. He stared at her a minute and then said, "You still blamin' yourself for what happened to Joe?"

She felt all choked up, so she just nodded.

He took her hand and covered it with his. "We all make mistakes, Half-pint. Some are small and some are mighty big. You know what your mistake was?"

"Yes, sir. Tryin' to save that bear cub."

"No," he replied. "That ain't it."

She frowned. "Then what was it, Pa?"

He glanced at the church. "You remember your Bible stories? The one about Adam and Eve?"

Laura nodded. "I sure do."

"What did your teacher say about what their sin was? Was it eatin' the apple?"

She thought a moment. Finally she shook her head, "No, sir. The teacher said it was wantin' to be in charge like God." She looked at him. "But I don't want to be in charge like God, sir. I couldn't!"

He smiled. "God told Adam and Eve that in the garden there was only one thing they couldn't have. He told them if they touched it or ate from the tree, that bad things would happen. That they'd have to leave that garden. Didn't he?"

She nodded.

"But they didn't listen 'cause they thought they knew better." Pa let go of her hand. "Well, you see, Half-pint, that's what you did when you went after that bear cub. You thought you knew better than me. And just like Adam and Eve, somethin' bad happened. Joe got hurt."

Tears formed in her eyes. "Oh, Pa..."

"But Joe's better. God was gracious this time." He caught her around the shoulder with his arm and squeezed. "So I'm askin', did you learn anything?"

She nodded. "I sure did, Pa. I ain't never gonna listen to those old voices in my own head when they tell me to do somethin' I know is wrong anymore."

The smile was back. He squeezed her again. Then he kissed the top of her head.

"I'll be remindin' you of that promise now and again," Pa laughed. Then he pulled her to her feet. "Now you get along to school. There's Willie to ring the bell."

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Nellie Oleson looked up as the school bell rang. She should be on her way, but the two men who had come into her father's store were just too fascinating. Especially that one with the black hair. She'd make up some excuse when she got to school and tell Miss Beadle that her ma had kept her behind to help with the store in order to explain being tardy.

Miss Beadle was what her mother called 'gullible'. She'd believe her.

The two men were in the post office talking to Mrs. Edwards. They were leaning on the counter and the older one – with the blond hair – was flirting with her. She could tell because Mrs. Edwards cheeks were burning. It was absolutely scandalous an old lady like her flirting with a handsome young stranger. Why, she was old enough to be his ma!

Well, practically.

Standing next to the post office window, Nellie tossed her perfect blonde ringlets back over her shoulders and arranged her skirts. She wanted to look her best when she talked to that handsome young man. Her mother had told her the best way to get a man's attention was to use her 'feminine wiles'. Well, she had those in spades, as her father often said. A little smirk quirked the ends of Nellie's lips. She could wrap any man around her little finger that she wanted to, just like she wrapped her ringlets around the curling iron in the morning when she was getting ready for school.

Nellie cast a look at Laura Ingalls where she was standing with her father. If Laura could have a mysterious man in her life, well, then, so could she!

She glanced in the window again at the man with the black hair.

He wore his gun tied down too.

Nellie watched as the two men tipped their hats and turned to leave the post office. She counted off the paces and then pushed off the wall and right into their path. As the door opened, she pretended that it had hit her and fell down on the porch, moaning about her leg.

"Sorry, miss!" the younger man said as he reached for her. "Are you okay?"

She turned her crocodile-tear-streaked face up toward him and batted her long black eyelashes. "I don't...know." She raised a hand and fanned. "I feel a little faint..."

"There's a chair over here," the older man remarked, sounding a bit harsh.

The younger one was looking into her eyes. Goodness, he was dreamy! His eyes were like those clear mountain streams the poets were always writing about.

"You go ahead, Dave. I'll make sure she's okay." He smiled as the other man moved toward the livery. "What's your name?"

She lowered her head and blushed pink on purpose. "Nellie. Nellie Oleson."

"Nellie. My name's Clayton. I'm sorry we had to meet this way."

Clayton. All of the wonderful things of the world were written in that name. She closed her eyes and dreamed of him kissing her and then taking her away from this awful place with its hayseeds and rubes and appallingly unpleasant children like Laura Ingalls.

Sitting down, she fanned herself again. "Well, I'm glad we got to meet. What are you and your friend doing in town? It's obvious you're not from around here. You're far too cultured."

He snorted at that. "Our boss sent us out to find a man that's missing. He's a...business associate."

She was instantly on the alert for something she could potentially use to impress him. "You think he's here?"

Clayton shrugged. "Could be. He left the train at Medary. Bought a horse there and headed this way far as we can tell."

Her eyes returned to the schoolhouse. She considered what she was about to say – for maybe two heartbeats. It was something she had overheard and she was sure her father would not be happy if she told a stranger.

Still, he was such a handsome stranger.

"Was his name Joe?" she asked demurely.

Clayton stiffened. He nodded. "Do you know where he is?"

At that moment, two things happened. Laura's Pa walked past headed toward the south end of town and she heard her mother bellow.

"Nellie Oleson! Why aren't you in school? Heavens, what am I going to do with you, child?" Her mother hustled up, brushing past Mister Ingalls. He paused, tipped his hat, smiled that infuriating smile he had, and then walked on. When her mother came up to the porch, she noted the dust on her dress and the dirt on her stockings. "Oh, Nellie!" she fussed, taking hold of her face and looking into her eyes. "My darling! Are you all right?"

Nellie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It didn't go well with feminine wiles. "Mother," she said sternly, "I am quite all right."

"Glad to hear that," Clayton said. "I'd best be going."

Drat!

"Now, come on, Nellie. No school for you today."

She scowled. "Just a second, mother. I need to thank Clayton for helping me." Breaking free she followed the young man who paused and turned back to look at her.

"You know that man you're looking for?" she asked. When he nodded, she indicated Laura's pa who was just disappearing around the bend. "He's at Charles Ingalls' house."

"Nellie!"

Letting out a sigh, she flung off the words as she headed for her mother, indicating the farmer.

"That's him!"

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Caroline Ingalls paused and listened to the silence. It was early morning. Carrie was still sleeping as was their guest. Charles had walked the girls to school and was coming back to do some long-needed chores around the house, but for the moment there was no one around and nothing to be heard but the sweet song of waking birds and the sound of a rising wind rushing through the trees.

Such moments were rare in the busy Ingalls' household. There was always someone moving, talking, running, or laughing through their modest house. There was always work to be done. Constant setting out. Constant cleaning up. There was always a need to be 'doing' when it came to preserving enough food, to keeping the larder full, to providing for their family. She didn't resent or regret any of it.

But it was nice to stop now and then.

Removing the kerchief from her head, the blonde woman placed it in her apron pocket and then walked to the door and opened it. There was a storm brewing. She could feel it in the wind and scent it on the air. It was a good thing Charles intended to work inside today since it appeared by the time he got back, the rain would be falling. Hopefully one of the other residents of the town that lived their way would give the girls a ride home. It wasn't that they couldn't walk, but with the bite in the air she didn't want them getting wet and chilled. Thinking of that – of the possibility of fever – turned her mind to the injured man sleeping in their room. She hadn't checked on him for a while. It would probably be wise if she did. The first few days of recovery from so severe an injury were very important since an infection could recur without warning.

Closing the door, Caroline turned and walked through the kitchen and along the passage to their room. What she saw when she got there took her voice for a moment. The bed was empty and the man who had saved Laura was standing by the window!

"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked in the same tone she would have used with her children. "What in the world were you thinking!"

The man turned and gave her a wan smile. "I guess I wasn't."

Joe looked terrible. His color was off and there were great dark circles under his eyes. He had pulled the coverlet off of the bed and had it wrapped around his thin frame. He was shaking.

She moved to his side. "Come back to bed. You're in no shape to be on your feet." As she guided him over and made him sit, she added with a shake of her head. "Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

An odd look came over his face. "No, ma'am," he said, like he was one of her children. "I don't remember my ma."

Caroline gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry. She died then?"

He nodded. "When I was five. I was raised by my pa and my older brothers." Joe paused and an ornery light entered his eyes. "And you know men ain't the smartest things."

The blonde woman laughed. She shook her head. "You are so like Charles."

He seemed to be thinking. "That the man with the curly brown hair?"

"Yes. He's my husband."

Joe winced. She wasn't sure it was with physical pain. Then he said softly, "He's a mighty lucky man."

Caroline beamed. "Thank you. Though I am not sure Charles would always agree." Taking the coverlet from his shoulders, she helped him to lie back and then covered him with it. Then she sat down beside the bed. Looking at him, she said, "You strike me as a man of action, Joe. Am I going to have to tie you down to keep you in that bed?"

He pursed his lips. After a moment he said, "I feel useless."

There was a lot packed into that statement.

"You've been so kind to me, you and your family," he went on. "Given a lot while I just sit here taking."

"You were hurt, and hurt helping our child."

He shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm breathin'. There's gotta be something I can do to repay you."

A man of honor, she thought. She wondered briefly what that pa and those brothers who had reared him were like. "Well, Joe, Doctor Baker wants you to stay off that leg for about a week."

"Don't tell me," he sighed. "He's a scowling old man in a black suit with a sour expression. Did he tell you I was 'young and strong' and that it was up to me and God whether I made it?"

Caroline chuckled. "Well, you got the part right about the suit. And he did mention God. But, actually, Hiram isn't all that much older than Charles and he has blond hair."

"Oh," he said, with that ornery turn of phrase. "I thought they all came out of a mold."

She shook her head. "Not to be too personal, Joe, but I did notice quite a few scars on your shoulders and back while I was cleaning you up."

He actually blushed.

"Oh, don't worry!" she laughed. "Charles was there too. Or the doctor." With a twist of her lips she said, "My daughter Mary thinks you're a gunslinger."

That made those green eyes widen. "What?"

"When Charles brought you in, you had your gun tied down to your left leg. I take it you're left-handed?"

He nodded.

"So is Charles. My goodness, the more I learn about you, the more it seems you two must be long lost brothers."

Out of nowhere he said, "My brothers are dead."

"Oh, Joe! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

He shook his head. "It's all right. Sometimes, well... It's like they never lived if I don't talk about them. Pa..." He swallowed. "It's hard for Pa. 'Specially with Hoss."

"That was your brother?"

"The middle one," he nodded. "Older brother Adam went to sea. He stopped writing home years ago. Hoss...died a few years back."

She hesitated and then asked, "Is your name Cartwright?"

Those eyes looked at her and then toward the window. "Yes, ma'am."

"Caroline, please."

"Caroline."

She drew in a breath. "Charles said you don't want anyone to know you are here."

He nodded. "That's right."

"May I ask why?"

Joe pressed his lips tight together before answering. "You can ask. Don't mean I'm saying."

She felt so for him. He was in such pain, and it had nothing to do with the bear attack. Caroline thought a moment and then asked softly, "Was it your wife who died in the fire?"

Every muscle in his body tensed.

"You did a lot of talking when the fever was at its highest."

He let out a breath and it was as if his spirit went with it. "Alice," he said. "She was pregnant."

Caroline's heart wrenched in her. "Oh, dear Lord. Charles was right..."

Anger flashed in his eyes. "My pa always taught us that God was in control. That nothing happened without His consent. If God could let Alice die...my child die like that..." His voice fell away to nothing as tear streaked his cheeks. "That's not a God I want anything to do with."

She reached out to him. "Joe..."

He'd turned his face into the pillow. "I'm tired. I'd like to sleep."

Caroline hesitated only a second and then rose. "All right. I'll be in the kitchen." She moved to the end of the passage and looked back. The poor man – wounded in so many ways – looked so small and so in need, lying there in their bed. "Joe?"

He didn't look. "What?"

"I'll be making beans for supper. I could use some help snapping them if you think your arm is up to it."

He turned slightly toward her and nodded. "I can do that."

"You sleep for a while. I'll have one of the girls bring them in when they get done with their after school chores."

She stood a while, listening to his breathing, and when she was sure Joe was sleeping she returned to the kitchen, sat at the table, and cried.

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"That him?" Dave Donavan asked, watching the brown-haired man that was stepping out of the doctor's office.

Clayton nodded. "That's the one the girl pointed out. She was talking about someone named 'Joe' and she said, "That's him."

The blond man's eyes narrowed. "It's been more than ten years. I need to get closer."

"What if he recognizes you?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "I ain't gonna go up to him. You do somethin'. Make him turn this way." He nodded toward a thicket of trees. "I'll hide in there where I can watch."

The younger man nodded. "You want me to talk to him?"

"Nah. I don't want to make him aware of us. Just bump into him or somethin', ask for directions or somethin' and get back over here."

Clayton nodded. "Okay."

As Dave Donavan watched the younger man cross the street, his mind returned to that time, all those years ago, when Joe Cartwright had ruined him. He and Joe had been friends. Joe'd put him in charge of his logging operation, working on that big fat contract with the Sun Mountain Mining Co. Joe'd ended up being a self-righteous holier-than-thou type like his high-and-mighty father. Worse, even. When he and his boys took a break now and then, just to whet their whistle and blow off steam, Joe'd fired them all and sent them packing. Well, he'd been mighty angry about that and when a rival contractor named Will Poavey had asked him if he wanted a chance to pay Joe Cartwright back, why, he'd jumped at it. He'd taken dynamite and blown up that fancy log flume Joe was building and then, well, when that didn't stop the work, he'd tried to kill the uppity Boot-licker. Would have too if his family hadn't interfered.

Well, Cartwright's family was dead now, except for his old man, and Ben Cartwright was near two thousand miles away.

Dave glanced at Clayton. He was standing outside the doctor's office waiting for the brown-haired man to exit. He spit and then spread the spittle in the dirt with the toe of his boot. Will Poavey had come through for him after the Cartwrights turned him over to Roy Coffee and had him sent to prison. He'd got him paroled after about five years and he'd followed Poavey to Minnesota where he'd become the foreman of his operations there. Things had been going good until word came that Ben Cartwright might be expanding his interests, courting the railroads and the lumber companies in the East, and that he'd sent his son Joseph to do the negotiating. Will Poavey was right angry. He wanted Cartwright stopped and said the best way to do it was to work Ben's last boy over and send him home as a warning. He agreed. He was gonna send Joe Cartwright back to his pappy.

In a pine box.

Being part of the association of men who trade in lumber, supplying the mines and railroads, Will had gotten notice of all the men attending the conference. When Cartwright didn't show, he'd sent them out to backtrack the route he was taking. No one knew why Joe got off that train, but it was to their advantage. If this was him in this backwater town, well then, it would be a lot easier to take him than in the middle of a meeting, in the heart of a big city.

He could already feel his hands around his throat.

A ruckus caused Dave to look up. Clayton was on the ground and the brown-haired man was helping him up. He heard them exchange a few words and then his partner asked a question. It was the right one. The man with the curly brown hair turned directly toward him, pointing something out. When Clayton nodded, he flashed a smile and then turned and walked off in the other direction.

He knew that face, that wild hair and that smile. There was no doubt about it.

He'd found Joe Cartwright.