THREE

Adam tried his best to nap but there were two children, young boys, on the coach as well and so Adam pulled his hat down over his eyes and tried to ignore the two wrestling boys. Over the past two days, their mother repeatedly told them, begged them to be good but they ignored her. Even when the mother threatened to tell their father about their behavior once they arrived home, the boys looked at her for a brief moment and then continued shoving each other for more space on the seat.

At first, Hoss tried to make friends with them; then maybe they wouldn't fight if they were kept involved in a conversation. When the mother smiled and asked where he was from, Hoss said that he and his brother, indicating Adam, were from a ranch called the Ponderosa in Nevada Territory.

"You mean you're a cowboy?" the oldest boy asked skeptically.

"Yup, that's right. I herd cows and round 'em up and brand 'em and all that stuff." Hoss grinned widely.

"You can't be," the boy said.

Hoss looked puzzled and Adam tipped up his hat to watch.

"Why not?" Hoss asked.

""Cause you're too fat. I bet you'd founder your horse. You'd break its back."

Adam quietly laughed and Hoss' brows drew together. "Well, you know how I got so fat?" Hoss asked, leaning in to the boys.

"How."

"By swallowing smart-alecky kids alive. You want me to make a snack of you?" The younger boy crawled onto his mother's lap, watching Hoss, and the older boy shrunk back into the seat. The mother glared at Hoss who just shrugged. But that only lasted about an hour and then the two boys started kicking each other and pushing each other on the seat again and complaining to their mother and asking how much longer they had until they arrived home. The mother tempted them with gumdrops to settle down and the boys would-until the gumdrop was eaten and then they would start again.

Finally, the coach pulled into a small town called Riverside and Adam and Hoss crawled out to stretch their legs.

"Hoss, I don't think I can take that stage anymore today. How about we spend the night here and take the next stage out tomorrow. Looks like there are going to be two more passengers, those two old women so looks like either you or I are going to end up riding topside."

"How 'bout we tie those kids on topside."

"It'd be fine with me but their mother might object."

"I don't know, Adam. She might think it's the best dang idea yet." Adam laughed.

So Adam and Hoss spent the night in a small hotel in Riverside, two to one bed. In the morning, Adam told Hoss that he should never marry; he'd roll over on top of his bride for sure and suffocate her-which might be preferable to having him lie on top of her for other reasons.

After a large breakfast, Hoss and Adam went to the station to change their tickets and climbed into the stage. It was a three-seat coach; the middle seat had a back of only thick straps of leather and the knees of the middle passengers had to be dovetailed with the knees of the passengers' facing them. It tended to promote an embarrassing intimacy. But the worst was that the wide leather straps offered little back support. So Adam and Hoss both took the seats riding backwards since in the furthest seat was a man whom they could smell as soon as he climbed in. But beside him a toothless, old man in a worn-out jacket and long greasy, gray hair that hung like snakes down his back sat down beside him. Anyone else who entered would have to take the middle seat if they wanted a halfway pleasant ride.

So they sat in the station, the horses stomping their feet and throwing their heads, eager to go. Adam could feel the slight shifts in the coach as the horses moved in their traces and Adam empathized with the animals; he himself had the urge to travel on.

"Hey, Whip, how long before we leave," Adam called out to the driver who was chatting with the station master. There were eight more days before Adam and Hoss would arrive at Virginia City and Adam had sent a wire to his father, Ben Cartwright, just that morning telling him on what stage to expect them.

"Got two more comin'. I think they're comin' now," the stage driver said. He said goodbye to the station master and climbed up on the seat.

Adam sat back and closed his eyes, tipping down his hat. Since the two new passengers would be sitting so close to him, he chose not to make eye contact until necessary; he didn't feel like being engaged in a conversation. The door to the stage opened and he heard a man's voice say that he was fine; he may be blind but he could certainly manage to get into a stage. And then Adam felt Hoss tap his arm. Adam pushed back his hat.

"Adam, there's a blind man and a woman with 'im and they's gettin' on. We better take the middle seats."

"You take the middle seat; I'm not moving." Adam pushed himself further back into the seat and then he heard the man say in an annoyed tone that he could get into a stage by himself and didn't need "her" help. Adam sighed and moved to the middle seat, Hoss having already shifted. He couldn't allow a woman to sit in the uncomfortable middle seats but his back did ache.

"No lady should have to smell them two polecats behind us anyway," Hoss whispered to Adam.

"What makes you think you smell that much better?" Adam felt the three sets of leather straps across his weary back and felt a dark mood come over him. What the hell was he doing here? Why wasn't he off doing what he wanted instead of being stuck in this crowded, rank stage heading home to the boring life that was basically no more than that of a ranch hand. Adam decided that it was time for a change and he was going to make one. But then, as he looked at the man holding on both sides of the stage door as he climbed in, Adam was taken aback. He had seen blind men before and all of them wore dark glasses but this man wore none. Instead the burn scars on his eyes and his cheeks were obvious; the skin was drawn and pulled and his irises had a milky look. One eye was half closed with scar tissue. This blind man would have scared small children.

"Your left side," Adam said. "The seat on your left." The man had no bearings so Adam stepped in.

The man nodded, putting out his hand and felt the seat. He slid into it, thanking Adam. Then he reached back toward the door and a cane was handed to him. Adam glanced at the woman and suddenly, he felt as if he had been punched in the stomach and all the air in his body was expelled—he couldn't breathe. It was the same feeling he had known when he was in a playground fight in school and one of the older boys had slammed his fist into Adam's solar plexus and all his breath was forced out of his lungs. It was a desperate feeling, a panic that grabbed the brain and wouldn't let it go beyond the desperate attempts to pull in oxygen.

And that was how Adam felt upon seeing the woman's face. It was Piper. It was his wife. And he hadn't seen her or heard from her in over twelve years. She stared back at him, her skin blanching, her eyes huge, her mouth opening in surprise. Then she sat down heavily as if her legs had given out. And she didn't know where to look as her knees were next to Adam's. They sat basically across from each other and the space separating them was practically nothing. So the woman pulled herself in as small as she could make herself and turned her attentions to the blind man, avoiding meeting Adam's eyes. Adam pulled his hat down low over his brow and glanced out the coach window, his breathing shaky and the sweat breaking out on his forehead. Finally he managed to control himself physically but his mind raced; seeing her, seeing Piper had brought back all his feelings of love, grief and betrayal that he had experienced so long ago.

Hoss and the blind man finally managed to get their knees in such a position that they were both comfortable and then the stagecoach started with a sudden jerk and everyone went forward-or backwards-slightly and then fell back into their places.

"Well," the blind man said, "since we'll be riding so closely, let me introduce myself. Nash Jeffers." He put out his hand and Hoss shook it.

Adam picked up the man's rich southern accent. Adam put it as Virginian. But that made sense, he thought, since Piper was from Virginia and had been schooled there and the two were now together.

"Hoss Cartwright," Hoss said.

"Well, you are a big one," Nash said, putting his other hand over Hoss' and patting it. "Good to meet you."

"Good to meet you too. This here's my brother, Adam."

Adam pushed back his hat and sat up. "Nice to meet you," Adam said and put out his hand. The blind man, his head raised at an angle to catch Adam's position by his voice, moved his arm toward Adam. Adam leaned forward, took the man's arm with his left hand and then shook his hand.

"This is my wife," the man said, "Mrs. Jeffers." Even though Mr. Jeffers couldn't see her, he motioned toward her with his hand.

Hoss and Adam both tipped their hats and she glanced at them and then turned to look back out the small window of the stage. They were clear of Riverside and out into the wilderness as it stretched before them.

Adam kept surreptitiously glancing at Piper. It was obvious that she didn't want Adam to acknowledge their past so Adam decided that he would wait-there had to be a time when he could speak to her alone. So he would wait but none too patiently. He longed to talk to her, to hear his name spoken by her again-the soft way she used to say it and how she whispered it when he would hold her and kiss her. Adam took in a deep breath and exhaled with a shuddering sound. She glanced quickly his way and pulled her legs further away from him.

Piper Naismith had been her name when Adam first met her, when he fell in love with her and when they married. Only then it had changed to Cartwright and now it was Jeffers. And Adam wondered if more about her had changed as well.

He could see that her face had changed slightly. At 16 when they had first met, Piper's face still had the rounded cheeks of youth and her mouth was always relaxed, her lips, pink and full. And now her face was more angled. Piper had lost the plumpness of her cheeks and her cheekbones had developed a hollow beneath them. She had lost weight. Adam remembered how lush she had been, how her breasts had been full and round and now, she was so slender that it surprised him. And sad; she looked sad and that upset Adam the most.