SIX

When Joe opened his eyes again, it was way past time to snap beans. The sun was down and outside of the window it was black as pitch. He could smell rain on the breeze, so that storm that was brewing earlier must have come and gone. Even though the late afternoon sunlight was coursing through the open window, casting a golden glow over everything in the room, someone had lit a lamp on the bedside table. There was a cup and pitcher there, as well as a plate of cookies. Wondering what was in the cup, he reached for it and grunted as he inadvertently moved his injured leg.

It hurt like the Devil!

"Here. Let me get that for you," a child's voice said.

It wasn't until that moment that Joe realized he wasn't alone. A small girl was sitting in a chair at the end of the bed, hidden in the shadows. She left the chair and walked to the table, picked the pitcher up and poured a golden liquid in to the cup. Then she held it out to him.

"Pa made apple cider. I thought you might like some," she said.

As he took the cup, he studied his small visitor. She looked like she was about nine years olds and had fairly light brown hair tending toward red. Her eyes were brown too and they were set in a freckled face. Her hair, which was parted in the middle, had been fashioned into two long braids. She wore a light green homespun dress with a white pinafore over it.

And looked vaguely familiar.

"Thank you," Joe said, taking it. One sip let him know how good it was. "Thank you," he said again. "That's great."

"Do you have apple cider where you come from?" she asked.

He nodded as he took another sip. "We don't make it, though. Usually we trade something for it or buy it in town from someone who has an orchard."

"What do you do? Are you a farmer like my pa?"

Joe shook his head. "I'm a rancher. I spend my days roping and tying steers, not cornstalks and wheat."

She laughed at that. "You're funny."

He had been, once upon a time.

When he said nothing more, the little girl shifted uneasily. Her eyes went to his leg lying under the covers. "How are you feelin'?"

He pursed his lips and smiled "Oh, I'll be right as rain soon enough. It hurts, but I've had worse injuries before."

Her eyes went to his shoulder. "Ma says you've been shot."

Joe nodded. "More than once."

"How come?"

He thought a moment. Then he laughed. "Sheer stupidity most of the time."

Her brown brows met in the middle. "So you've done...stupid things too?"

She wasn't looking at him now, but had her head down. The fingers of one hand were moving against the other like she was nervous. Joe concentrated. Then, he had it.

This was the little girl he had saved from the bear.

He put the cup down and then, with his good hand, reached up and pulled the nightshirt back from his left shoulder. "You see that scar right there?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. "How'd you get that?"

He hadn't thought of that day for years. Maybe for more than a decade. The memory of it was bittersweet both for the men who peopled it and the love of family its outcome had shown.

"I was about twenty. There was this wolf roaming our land and killin' our cattle." He shook his head. "I sure wanted that wolf. I was hunting it with my older brother. He wanted to go home, but I just wouldn't quit. I told him to stay at the camp while I went out one last time."

"Did you find it?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"I sure did. I tied my horse off, went to ground, and tracked it around a big outcropping of rocks. Only problem was, big brother Adam had decided to track it too after all and he was coming from the other side on his horse. I didn't look. He didn't look."

"What happened?" she breathed.

"Adam shot me. The wolf got me. I almost died."

"Gosh," she said, frowning. "You were both kinda stupid."

Joe snorted. "I guess we were at that."

The little girl sobered. "So your brother almost killed you? And you forgave him?"

He shrugged. "We all make mistakes. Besides, Adam was family. I knew he didn't mean to do it." Joe paused. "Just like I know you didn't mean for me to get hurt either."

She was looking down again. "No, sir."

He reached out with his good hand to touch her arm. "Joe."

Her brown eyes flicked to his face. Her lips curled in a small smile. "Joe."

"And what's your name?" he asked.

"Laura."

"Laura," he said it slowly, the sound of it bringing with it all the memories that name conjured up. Then he let them go and concentrated on the living child in front of him. "I had a girl named Laura once. She had brown hair too. You're just as pretty as she was."

She seemed surprised. "Me? Pretty?"

He nodded. "I bet your ma and pa tell you that every day."

Her freckled nose scrunched up. "They sure do. But Mary's the pretty one. I'm just...well...ordinary."

Joe formed a serious face. "No girl who stands up to a five hundred pound mama grizzly bear that's coming straight at her is ordinary in my book."

"I didn't –"

"You forget, I saw you. You were standing there staring her down when I came out of the trees."

Laura frowned. "I was scared."

"So was I."

Her brown eyes widened. "You were?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said.

"You didn't look scared. You stood right up to that old bear and didn't back down."

Joe laughed. "That doesn't mean I wasn't scared," he admitted. "Anyhow, we're both here and we're both alive and safe, so what's say we forget all about it?" He held his hand out for her to take. "Shake, and be friends?"

She was staring at his hand, thinking hard. "Well, I guess if your brother was okay with you forgiving him, then I can be okay with it too."

Laura took it.

"Its settled then," he grinned.

"Laura, are you wearing our guest out?"

Joe looked up to find the pretty blonde woman standing at the edge of the room. "No, ma'am," he said. "Laura here was keepin' me company. It's gets kind of lonely in here."

"I feel funny with you calling me 'ma'am'. Caroline will do." As he nodded, she added, "Doctor Baker will be out in the morning. We'll ask him if it's all right for you to get up and move around the house." She grinned at him. "I get the feeling you are a hard man to keep down."

"I don't much cotton to sitting – or laying in bed, that's for sure."

"Well, we'll see what we can do. Right now, young lady, it is time for you to finish your chores and get to bed. You have school tomorrow."

Laura gave him a longing look and then said, "Yes, Ma'am. See you later, Joe?"

He nodded. "Looking forward to it."

After Laura disappeared, her mother turned to him and said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For what you just said to Laura. She's been very upset."

He shrugged. "Like I told her, we all make mistakes." Joe paused, remembering. "As many times as I've been forgiven in my life, I figure I should pass it on."

"Well, thank you anyway." Caroline started to turn away and then looked back. "Can I get you anything?"

Joe shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks."

"You get some sleep. Like I said, the doctor will be here first thing in the morning."

He watched her go and then listened as the Ingalls' household shut down. He heard their girls climb to their loft bedroom and heard the door open and shut behind Caroline's husband. He felt bad about being in their bed. The sooner he was up and on his feet, the sooner their lives could return to normal. Joe thought a moment and then turned his face to the wall.

Of course, he had no idea where he was going to go.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Charles turned around and closed the door behind him. It was well past midnight and he knew everyone inside the house would be asleep. He, on the other hand, was not. He'd lain on his makeshift bed in the barn, tossing and turning for nigh on an hour until he finally gave in and rose. Possessed of a restless spirit he'd walked the farm, checking in on the animals and making sure all of the gates were locked. Ending up in the yard he listened to the sounds of the night, trying to determine what it was had wakened him.

In the end he decided it was God and since everything was all right outside, he'd better go in.

With a yawn, the brown-haired man ran his hand along the back of his neck as he turned into the common room and then he stopped. Someone was sitting in front of what remained of the fire. It wasn't Caroline.

It was Joe.

"Sorry if I startled you," Joe said. "I just had to get out of that bed."

"You do that by yourself?" he asked.

He couldn't see the smile, but he could hear it in Joe's voice. "I waited until everyone was asleep. Figured your wife would try to stop me."

"Caroline's mothering doesn't stop with the girls," he snorted. Charles pulled a chair away from the table and took it over to the area of the hearth and sat down. "How are you feelin'?"

"All right, I guess."

"That's reassuring," he said. "That leg wound you've got is nothin' to take too lightly. Doc said the fever could return if it opens again."

The fire cracked and a log fell to embers. The light it cast caught the young man's face so he could see clearly that he was smiling.

"I've proved them wrong before," Joe said.

Charles was silent for a minute. Then he asked, "Joe, what are you doing here?"

He turned his face toward the fire. His head shook. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

The look he got was sharp. This was a man who was not used to being challenged. "Well then, you tell me what I know!" Joe snapped.

"All right. I will." Charles leaned back. "You're a man on the run."

"You're wrong. There's no one chasing me."

"I didn't say anyone was chasing you. If there's any chasin' being done, you're the one doing it. You're runnin' from yourself."

"Oh." The man's green eyes reflected the fire, though they had fire enough in them of their own. "What makes you so sure?"

"Well, from what I understand you were headin' to La Crosse to the big meetin' they're havin' there. Lars told me your father owns about half the state of Nevada and he's lookin' for new ways to increase business."

"Lars?" Joe was frowning. "Lars Hanson?"

Charles nodded. "Your father's old friend. I work for him."

Joe's jaw tightened. "Small world."

"Ain't it?" He shifted in his chair and leaned forward, linking his hands between his knees. "Seems you never made it to that meetin'. Got off the train at Medary and disappeared." Charles shook his head. "What I'm wonderin' is where you were headed when you showed up in the woods to save Laura from that bear. Walnut Grove ain't exactly on the road to anywhere."

"I got lost."

Charles's brown brows peaked toward the tousle of curls on his forehead. That was the most honest thing the wounded man had said so far!

"So I guess the question is, Joe Cartwright, do you want to be found?"

Joe remained silent for nearly a minute. The fire cracked. The embers sizzled.

Without lookin at him, the injured man started talking.

"I've been through a lot in my life. I've got a temper and it's got me in trouble more times than sense would say I should have survived. My pa says I don't know the meaning of 'don't', let alone 'can't'. I've always been sure of myself, of what I could do... Of what I wanted. And, believe it or not, a lot of that knowin' came from what my pa taught me. Pa's one of the strongest men I know. He's got this rock solid base that can't be shaken." His voice fell to almost nothing. "I thought I had that too until..."

"Until your wife died."

Joe's green eyes flicked to his face. "Talkin' in my sleep, right?"

Charles nodded. He was silent a moment. It was almost too horrific to consider. "A baby too?"

Joe nodded this time.

He drew a breath and let it out in words that stabbed his heart. "I had a son that died. Last year. He was just a baby."

The other man turned to look at him. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Charles sat up. "I'm not tellin' you to get your sympathy. Just to let you know that, in some way, I know how you feel."

Joe's gaze went to the room where Caroline slept.

"Do you?"

"I almost lost her too. Cut her leg on a wire in my wagon that I knew needed fixing. It got infected. She almost died."

"Did you blame yourself?" Joe asked.

Did he? Had he? "For a while, but I let it go. Nothing happens without a reason. I believe that."

Joe's reaction was startling. His back stiffened, his nostrils flared. Anger entered his eyes. "That's bull. That's what my pa always says and look where it's got him. Three wives dead! One son deserting and then other dying before his time – "

"And the last one disappearing without a word," Charles said softly.

The other man was breathing hard. "Yeah, that too."

"So, you're not plannin' on goin' back?"

Joe looked away but said nothing.

"Well," Charles said, rising. "You're a grown man and you'll do what you feel you have to do. I've just got one more thing to say and then I think we better both get to bed."

"What's that?" the injured man demanded.

"All that suffering – your pa's, yours...mine and Caroline's. If God ain't in control and it all happens for nothin' – ain't that worse?" He looked at the other man who refused to look at him. "But then, maybe you know that. Maybe that's why you're runnin'." Charles stepped over and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Nothin' stays lost forever, Joe. In time, you'll come home."

He lifted his hand before the other man could react and headed for the door.

"See you in the mornin'," Charles said as he lifted the latch and stepped outside.

The last thing he saw was Joe's tear-streaked face cut against the pink-orange glow of the fire.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Clayton Crew stretched his arms above his head and walked in place, working the kinks out that came from crouching in a thicket of plum bushes. As soon as Dave had left for Sleepy Eye and the telegraph office where he intended to wire Mister Poavey and tell him they had found Joe Cartwright, he had traveled east along Middle Ridge-fire road until he came to the Ingalls' place. Once there he'd taken up a position to the west of the house where he could keep watch. A few minutes before the man Nellie had fingered as Joe Cartwright had left the barn and headed into the house. Since they didn't want to arouse suspicions they hadn't asked anyone why he would be here. Maybe the Ingalls were friends of Ben Cartwrights, or maybe Joe had business with them. Whatever the reason he was welcome in the house, but sleeping in the barn. He'd watched him do a few light chores, so maybe he was working for food and board. The puzzlement was that he wasn't moving on to La Crosse, though there were rumors that Joe Cartwright never intended to make that meeting.

That since that woman of his had died, he just wasn't right.

It made him no nevermind. All Mister Poavey wanted to do was make sure that Joe Cartwright's father, Ben, didn't interfere with his business in Minnesota. Poavey had pretty much cornered the market for supplying lumber to all of the eastern concerns and he wanted to keep it that way. Though the rumor was Ben Cartwright only wanted to increase his business out west by working with the western subsidiaries of some of the men attending the meeting, Will didn't believe it. The world was getting smaller every day with the trains and the telegraph and all the other new-fangled contraptions that were being invented. He believed Cartwright intended to move in on his business and take over.

Poavey said that old man Cartwright wouldn't be satisfied until he held the timber rights for the whole country.

His partner, Dave Donavan, didn't like the Cartwrights at all and that bothered him. Instead of this just being a job, the blond man had a personal grudge he'd been nursing ever since Joe Cartwright sent him to prison. When he'd questioned Dave about what they were going to do now that they'd found Joe, Dave smiled and said, 'Stop him.' Two words. Two words that in his mind added up to murder.

And he didn't want any part in murder.

Still, he was too afraid to walk away. He knew Dave had killed before and he had no desire to become his next victim. So if it came down to it and Dave meant to kill Cartwright, he'd just walk away.

See no evil. Hear no evil.

Be no evil.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Pa?"

Ben Cartwright halted and put his satchel down. It was near five in the morning and he thought he'd managed to come down the staircase unnoticed. His shoulders slumped as he recognized Jamie's voice. Ben quickly placed the note he had meant to leave for the boy on the credenza inside his coat and then turned toward the stair.

He was determined to keep the boy out of this.

"What're you doin', Pa?" Jamie asked as he descended the steps. For a second Ben's heart raced. With the dim morning light and that thick head of hair and his nightshirt on, he could almost have imagined it was Joe twelve or thirteen years before. "You goin' somewhere?"

"I couldn't sleep, son. I was going to ride into town and check the telegraph office to see if there was any word."

"About Joe."

"Yes."

The boy stopped at his side. His blue eyes fixed on his face. "You're not a very good liar, Pa."

"What...what do you mean?" he huffed.

"You're goin' after Joe, aren't you?"

Ben meant to bluff it. He'd intended to. Instead, he nodded. "Yes."

"Let me come with you."

"Jamie, no. I have no idea what I'll be riding into. I can't chance – "

"Joe's your son, Pa, but he's my brother." The boy paused. "He's my family too."

Ben's eyes teared. He placed a hand on Jamie's shoulders. "I need you here, to look after things."

"You know that ain't true. Pete's a good foreman. He can run the ranch." The boy paused. "Pa, you need me with you. What if..." He drew a steadying breath. "What if the news ain't good?"

He'd tried not to consider any possible outcome other than finding Joe alive and well. Still, his son's mental health had been precarious at the time he left. It was why he had sent him to Minnesota to begin with. He'd hoped the change of scenery would help Joe to let go of the past that was so much a part of the Ponderosa and the land he was born to inherit.

What if it had, instead, driven him over the edge?

"Pa? Please don't leave me behind."

He looked at the boy – so eager, so earnest. Fear for Jamie was a part of his hesitation. These were powerful men they were dealing with in Minnesota. It was a possibility that Joe had run afoul of one of the men out for the same lucrative contracts they were interested in, and he would be taking the boy into danger. And yet, what right did he have to deny him? Jamie'd lost Hoss as well and had, in a way, already lost Joe long before his third boy left on this journey.

At this moment all they had was each other.

"All right, son," he said. "The train leaves at nine-fifteen. Can you be ready in half an hour?"

He expected a smile. Instead, he got a sober look and a nod. "We'll find Joe, Pa."

Ben was without words. He squeezed the boy's shoulder. No, not boy.

Young man.

As he watched Jamie mount the stairs two at a time and head down the corridor toward his room, Ben sighed. He'd wanted one thing and apparently God had wanted another.

It was no surprise who had won.

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Dave Donavan paced the telegraph office in Sleepy Eye. It was near closing and he didn't want to wait until the morning to see if there was a reply to his message to Will Poavey. Of course, he had his orders, but before he carried them out he wanted to know just how far Will was willing to go to stop the Cartwrights from expanding their timber business in the east. Every day the world was getting smaller with the trains and the telegram. There was even a newfangled thing on the horizon called the 'speaking telegraph' that a man named Manzetti had invented. It was hard to imagine that one day you'd be able to speak and someone somewhere across the country would be able to answer.

"Mister Donavan?" the telegraph operator called, looking around like he'd already forgotten what he looked like.

"That's me."

"You got a reply, sir."

He'd already paid his money so Dave took the message and stepped outside. Once on the porch he read it. It was only eight words, but they were the words he wanted.

WANT CARTWRIGHT STOPPED. STOP. DO ANYTHING NECESSARY. STOP.

Dave's lips curled in a sneer.

Anything necessary.

This was going to be fun.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe Cartwright returned to the Ingalls' bedroom but not to the bed. Though his leg was aching fiercely, he refused to give in and went instead to the window to look out. Surrounding Charles Ingalls' house were acres of ripening corn, which he knew the man had planted by hand. Charles life was simple – rise in the morning, care for his animals and tend his crops, spend time with his children, and then go to bed with his beautiful wife. Charles' life was a like a still, calm lake of family and faith while his was a crashing, roaring, raging sea of loss and conflicting emotions. There were times when he didn't understand himself. It was as if there was something within him that simply could not be content. Adam had told him more than once that he was just like his mother; that Marie had had a quixotic nature and a quick temper and from one minute to the next you never knew what you were going to get. You hung, waiting for her smile, because it was the most wonderful thing in the world, but at the same time you wanted to hide in case that smile disappeared and what she dished out instead was disapproval and scorn. He'd tried not to be like that. He'd tried to be a good man – a steady honorable faithful man like his father and like Charles Ingalls – but whatever it was that was in him fought like a mountain lion against it. For most of his life there had been a balance, like that between day and night. The smiles and laughter had been equal to the dark thing that reared up inside him, showing itself in anger and disobedience.

Since Alice and the baby had died, since Tanner had tormented him...the darkness was winning.

He really wanted a drink.

Moving to the edge of the bed, Joe sat down. He'd ask the doctor tomorrow. Brandy or whiskey were cure-alls and since he was in pain, a bottle should be a request that wouldn't be turned down. He'd take it easy. Just a sip or two to dull things, to make the memories go away. It was hard here, in the middle of a family, seeing the children, seeing Charles with his pretty blonde wife when his was dead...

Mighty hard.

As soon as he could sit a horse he'd move on and leave these good people be. He still didn't know where he would go. Maybe he'd go to La Crosse as he had intended to do in the beginning, spend some time there, and then return to the Ponderosa. Maybe he'd wire his pa and tell him he needed a little more time and travel on to Boston and see if he could find some word of Adam.

Or maybe he'd book passage on one of the ships that came into the harbor and take off for parts unknown.

Joe eased his way up onto the bed and put his weary head back on the pillows. Whichever he chose, it would be a few days before he needed to worry about it. He could get around, but it was important to let himself heal. For the time being he would have to accept the Ingalls' hospitality. He wanted to talk to Laura again anyway, to make certain she didn't hold onto any blame. She was a little too much like him, that little brown-haired girl. Joe Cartwright in female form.

He wondered if his child had been a girl.

Devastated, Joe dissolved into tears and lay weeping until the light broke in the sky.