Riding back to the house was a little easier. Joe kept distracting me by teasing me about the size of the fish I had managed to catch. He had caught the biggest one, a fact he was proud of. The lunch Hop-Sing had sent with us had contained roast beef sandwiches and apple pie. I had unashamedly eaten nearly twice as much as Joe, which was another point he teased me on.

"There you are," Ben said as he came out on the porch. His eyes were sad, though he kept his tone amused. "I wondered where you two had gotten yourselves."

"This city girl had never been fishing, so I decided to remedy that," Joe said as he swung to the ground. He came around his horse, Cochise, to help me down. "She started to get the knack of it towards the end. At least she stopped screaming when a fish nibbled on her line."

Ben chuckled. "I'm glad you two had a good day." He shifted his gaze to Joe and said, in an abruptly serious tone, "Hoss is back."

Joe's eyes flicked to me and he cleared his throat. "I better hand over this fish to Hop-Sing and get Cochise and Belle taken care of," he said in a too bright way.

A feeling of dread washed over me. "Is something wrong?" I asked uneasily.

"Why don't you come inside and talk to Hoss," Ben said, holding his hand out. He settled his arm around my shoulders as he fell into step beside me.

My mind was a whirl of anxiety. What had happened? Where had Hoss gone that would concern me? In an instant, as I crossed the threshold, I knew. My father. He'd gone to bury my father.

Hoss straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the fireplace. "Miss Rosemary," he said. He swallowed hard and then cleared his throat. "Have a seat."

Sending a quick glance over at Ben, I walked to the settee and had a seat. I folded my hands in my lap as I looked up at Hoss. "Is something wrong?" I asked, anxious to get the conversation over with. The large man sent an almost agonized look at his father, who had taken up position behind me. "You're scaring me."

"I don't mean to, Miss Rosemary," Hoss said quickly. "Early this morning, I rode out to find your daddy's wagon. I made sure he had a proper burial."

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. I felt proud at how calm I was staying. "Thank you. That can't have been easy."

Hoss' expression became confused as he again looked at Ben. "I'm sorry there was nothing worth saving," he said. He moved to the large table they kept i front of their sitting area and picked up a small cup. My breath caught as I recognized the dainty flower pattern. He carried it to me. "Just this. The rest was smashed up."

My mama's china set. My hands were shaking as I took it from him. "Th-thank you," I managed to say before my voice choked. Tears welled up in my eyes as I ran my fingers over the unharmed cup.

"I'm sorry I couldn't bring you anything else. Those rotten..." Words failed him for a moment before he pressed on. "They took their frustrations out on your belongings."

A smile quivered on my lips. "I imagine my escape into the wilderness didn't please them."

For a third time, Hoss focused his attention on his father. None of them had ever asked me how I had got away from the men who killed my father. In fact, aside from a few details on my life in San Francisco, they didn't press me with questions about my ordeal.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Ben said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

But, for some reason I did want to tell them. "I think...they knew I was there, in the wagon," I said, fixing my gaze on the china cup in my hands. "When I heard them coming toward the back of the wagon, I held onto the first pieces of clothing I found and climbed out the front. As much as I was stumbling and tripping over every rock, I think the only reason they didn't catch me is they were drunk and having as much trouble as I was."

"So you just ran into the forest?" Hoss asked.

"Straight into the river," I said, remembering my panicked flight and how I had lost them, "and it was too cold for them to follow me. They stood on the bank, screaming at me as I let myself drift away. I was so cold when I finally dragged myself out of the water. And then I just ran."

As long as I had been on my own, I realized I hadn't kept to a straight course, otherwise I would have run onto the Ponderosa sooner.

"Not many young women would have had the presence of mind to do that," Ben commented softly. His hand gently squeezed my shoulder. "Your father would have been proud of you."

While I had managed to keep tears from falling, the quiet statement shattered my equilibrium. Hoss' large hands came over mine as I cried, and Ben's hand never left my shoulder. I would never be able repay these people for all they had done for me.

Giggling wildly, Joe rushed into the house with a newspaper in his hand. "Rosemary, you need to read this," he declared.

Surprised, I put aside the black shirt I had found in a mending pile. At least, I assumed it was a stack of clothing that needed simple repairs. It was astonishing the damage I was found: sleeves torn and seams ripped. It was clear whoever did the mending hadn't gotten to it in some time, or maybe they hadn't been able to send it out. It was one way I could be useful.

"Where did you get that?" I asked as I tried to focus on the words being waved in my face. "Isn't it dangerous for you to go into town?"

"Oh, Sid brought it back from town for us."

Pulling the paper from Joe, I was finally able to make sense of what he wanted me to see. It was an article by 'Josh', Mr. Clemens' pen name. It detailed Judge Billington's habit of using the the pronoun 'I' in his speeches, and conveyed the moniker of Professor Personal Pronoun on the judge. I caught myself snickering several times as I read.

"Great, isn't it?" Joe asked, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"It's something," I said, folding the paper. "So that's how he intends on fighting the judge? Getting him laughed out of office?"

"If he keeps this up, I can see him succeeding."

"The pen will win out," I couldn't resist saying.

Joe gave a grimace at that. "Maybe. But I can't see him not needing a gun before this is all over."

I picked up the mending and leaned back. "I have no doubt you'll be right there to fill in that need." It would be the right thing to do. I had only known these Cartwrights a short time, but I knew without a doubt that they would do whatever was the right, moral thing. "Thank you for showing me."

"What are you doing?" Joe asked, frowning at the needle and thread in my hand. "Hop-Sing usually takes care of that."

"Hop-Sing has many responsibilities," I said primly. Glancing, I caught the eye of the cook, who had entered from the kitchen. "I'm sure he won't mind my taking this small task off his hands while I'm here. I've been complimented on my stitching before."

"Why you bother Missy?" Hop-Sing demanded, startling Little Joe. "Why leave work to brothers and father? Go back to job!"

"Aw, Hop-Sing, I'm not bothering her," Joe said, his tone placating.

"You are, actually," I said, focusing on my stitches.

With that, Hop-Sing shooed Joe out of the house, ignoring the young man's protests. Tilting my head back, I laughed as the cook slammed the door shut.

That wasn't the last time one of the Cartwrights brought a copy of the Territorial Enterprise in for me to read. Joe must have told them I was amused by Mr. Clemens witty articles about Judge Billington. Anything that made me laugh, whether it was putting Joe in his place when he became too outrageous or a comical story, was quick to be brought to my attention.

Then, word came that Lash had taken action against Mr. Clemens and had the newspaper man beaten. Alarmed by this, the Cartwrights decided to ride into town. Ben seemed to see the worry on my face as I watched them mount. "Hop-Sing will make sure you're safe," he assured me. "If anything should happen, he'll get you back to San Francisco."

Did I want to go back? I wondered as I watched them ride away. I thought returning to my old home was what I wanted, but had come to realize there was nothing left for me there. I had barely thought about any of the friends I had left behind. They wouldn't understand how everything I had gone through had changed me. In any event, none of them would be in a position to take me in.

Long after the Cartwrights had vanished from sight, I stood on the porch, leaning against the railing. My gaze stayed on the horizon, taking in the beauty of the world around me. The Nevada territory had grabbed hold of me and had no intention of letting me go.

Hop-Sing convinced me to come in to eat. Worry made it hard to eat much, and thankfully the cook seemed to understand. "They be back soon," he said cheerfully. "Maybe one do something foolish and get hurt, but family all come home."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Happen often."

He meant it to be reassuring, I am sure, but knowing that this family that had so kindly taken me in had a penchant for trouble only worried me more. I gave up on food, and elected to take some mending out to the porch. There I sat, dividing my attention between keeping even stitches and watching the horizon.

Finally, as the sun began to set, I spotted four figures on horses, and another on a much smaller mule, coming towards the Ponderosa. Relieved, I set aside my unfinished work and got to my feet. "Hop-Sing! They're coming," I called out, certain that the cook was nearby.

Little Joe was the first one to reach me. "We've won!" he shouted, bringing Cochise to a sudden stop. He swung to the ground. "You should have seen it, Rosemary. We got there just in time for all of the action."

"Trust a youth to see the bright side of things," Mr. Clemens remarked with a laugh.

"Joseph, being involved in a gun battle is nothing to be proud of," Ben said sternly as he dismounted.

I glanced between them and saw no hint of injury. "Is it over then?"

"Lash's men were caught attempting murder," Adam responded, sounding immensely pleased with events. "It won't take long before they tell all to the sheriff. Judge Billington was caught accepting bribes from Lash, so I doubt he'll be reelected. The townspeople don't look kindly on an unfair judge."

Hoss chuckled as he tied his horse, Chubbs, reins to the hitching post. "I'd say Sam Clemens take on things had something to do with that," he reminded. His expression twisted with confusion. "Or should we be calling you Mark Twain now?"

"Miss Rosemary, the answer to your question is we hope so," Mr. Clemens said to me. "The Cartwrights graciously invited me to spend some time here, well away from the politics of Virginia City."

"I'll tell Hop-Sing that we have a guest," I said. How easily I had slipped into the role of daughter of the house! I had often played hostess for my father when his fellow teachers came to dinner and I was more than happy to do it for these four men who had become like family.