Desperately, I took advantage of where I was and kicked out with my foot. My boot connected solidly with his left ankle. He howled with pain and jumped back, grabbing at his ankle. I pulled myself up and lunged for the desk. This time, my fingers curled around the handle and it stayed in my hand as I spun around.

"Not another move," I ordered, holding my hand steady as I aimed at his chest. My ability to hit a target hadn't gained much improvement the day Joe and I had practiced, but I had the feeling I wouldn't be able to miss at this distance.

For a second, I thought the man would comply but then he laughed. "A bitty thing like you wouldn't actually pull the trigger," he said. "Do you really want blood on your hands?"

"You killed my father," I answered evenly. "You tell me."

His brow furrowed with confusion and he took a step forward. My finger squeezed the trigger as gently as Joe had taught me, and the gunshot sounded even louder in the confines of the schoolroom. He staggered back, spinning slightly to catch himself on one of the small desks. Partly from the kick and partly from shock, I reeled back a step, hitting the front edge of the desk.

The man's mouth was agape as he raised a hand to his right shoulder and he went down on his knees. "You shot me!"

"Rosemary!"

Two panicked shouts reached me. Breathing out, I managed to keep my gun pointed at my attacker, even though I doubted he was going anywhere. Joe and Adam Cartwright came skidding through the door, their own guns in his hand. They looked from me to the man on the floor. "Are you alright?" Joe demanded.

"No," I said honestly. "Mr. Mack Jonson here is in need of a doctor and a jail cell."

Spinning his pistol into his holster, Joe marched to my attacker and pushed the man's hand away from the wound. "I've seen worse," he decreed, straightening up. He stepped closer to me and held his hand out. "Why don't you hand me the gun and go get the marshal? He'll see that Jonson get's any medical treatment."

I didn't want to let go of the gun, but Joe maneuvered his fingers around mine, forcing me to release it. My hand began to shake the second the pistol left my grip. "I'm not sure I have it in me," I confessed.

"Joe, you go," Adam ordered. He cut off his youngest brother's protest. "Go."

Heaving a loud sigh, Joe turned and hurried out of the schoolhouse. Suddenly drained, I sagged against the desk. "He's bleeding on the floor," I observed distantly.

"I'm afraid he is," Adam agreed. "Is that a problem?"

"I just finished washing it."

Seriously, Adam nodded. "I can see how that would bother you. I'm sure you can convince Joe to help you clean it up once he gets back."

Well, as long as someone helped, I'd be satisfied. I wrapped my arms around my waist to try to hide the trembling. "That girl shot me," my attacker moaned.

Quicker than I could follow, Adam shoved the man over. Clearly, since he wasn't going to be cleaning up the blood, he didn't care whether the man bled even more or not. "I'd say she had good reason," Adam said sharply. "Ah, Rosemary, Hop-Sing insisted we bring you out for Sunday supper tomorrow. I don't suppose you'd object to us taking you home tonight."

"No, I won't mind." I had managed a single night on my own. Little steps, I reminded myself before self-recrimination could build.

"Good." When Jonson tried to sit up, Adam kept him down with one foot. "Be sure you ask Joe about Slim Henry."

"Slim Henry? Who's that?"

Jonson groaned on the floor. "I need a doctor. I think I'm dying."

"Be quiet," Adam told him sharply. "Yes, Slim Henry. He works for us, and he's been saving up for a farm of us own. He was asking about you. Joe seemed a little put out by the questions."

Taken aback, all I could think of to say was, "Oh" which made Adam chuckle. A moment later, the marshal came running in with Joe and an unfamiliar man right behind him.

"Marshal, she shot me," Jonson said immediately as he was pulled to his feet.

"And you did nothing to deserve it," the marshal responded. He glanced at me. "Is this the man?" At my nod, his expression hardened. "Alright, mister, you're under arrest for attacking Miss Lawson here, and for the murder of her father John Lawson."

Joe came around to stand by me as Jonson spluttered. "I don't even know who that is."

"Perhaps I can refresh your memory," I said, surprising myself at how cold my tone came out. "An old man camped out by the Truckee River?"

His eyes widened and made a lunge towards me. "You!" he snarled, as the marshal, a deputy, and Adam grabbed a hold of him. For a man who had been losing blood, he seemed determined to get to me. "You should have died out there!"

"That's confession enough for me," the marshal said. "Doc, you'll be able to see to him in a jail cell, right?"

"Yes," the doctor said grimly. He followed the lawmen out of the schoolhouse with the prisoner.

Joe put his arm around me. "Come on, Rosemary," he said. "What you need is some of Hop-Sing's tea."

I shook my head. "I can't."

He turned to stare at me as Adam began to chuckle. "Why not? What's wrong?"

"I can't leave the blood on the floor. It will stain and the children will see it." In a manipulative move, I widened my eyes. "Joe, please."

"Don't you worry, Rosemary, we'll have this cleaned up in no time," Joe immediately declared. He gestured at his brother. "Come on, Adam."

The dark haired man was already shaking his head. "A small spot like that needs only one pair of hands, little brother," he said. "No, you go ahead and clean it up for Rosemary, while I help her get her things ready for an overnight stay on the Ponderosa."

Leaving Joe with his jaw dropped, Adam took my arm and escorted me to the back part of the building. Almost hysterical laughter bubbled up as I walked.

Maybe, finally, my nightmare would be over.

Judge Henry Walker's first, official case in Virginia City was mine. Mack Jonson and his partner, who was arrested once Jonson decided he wasn't going down alone, stood trial for the murder of my father. Their lawyer didn't even bother with a defense once I gave my testimony. Jonson was sentenced to hang, and his partner would go to prison for ten years for being an accessory to the crime of murder.

As the Cartwrights escorted me out of the courtroom, one on every side of me to keep the gawkers and miners, Joe ran into a short, grizzled man. "You Cartwrights need to watch where you're going!" the old man snapped out. "Always going about like you own the world!"

For some reason, Joe's eyes started to sparkle with mischief and he began to grin. "Hey, Old Timer," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the chatter of the crowd. "What ever happened to that wild-man you saw?"

Startled, I gave the man a second look and I recognized him: the little man with the mule. "Now, you know that evil creature fell into Lake Tahoe and drowned," he said with a grumble. He pushed his way past, carrying with him the scent of alcohol. The Cartwrights and I burst into laughter, drawing confused looks from the onlookers who had gathered for the trial.

"Well, Rosemary, you've been described as a wild-man and wildcat," Adam commented once we had all settled down. Hoss and Joe hung back, still chortling about the joke, while Ben and Adam escorted me to the waiting buggy. "What do you think is next for you?"

Ben boosted me up into the buggy and I sat down. My eyes wandered over the busy streets and the people who were going about their business. I wasn't alone anymore. Slim Henry, a charming young man, had asked to the next dance and I had friends in the Cartwrights. Justice had been done, and my father could rest in peace.

"I don't know," I finally said. "I guess I'm just going to have to wait and find out."

Sitting at the teacher's desk in the schoolroom, I carefully dipped my pen in the ink. I had put this task aside for too long. Determined, I leaned over the paper and began to write:

Dear Mrs. Dawson,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to write to you. So much has happened, both good and bad. Before I go any further, I must ask: did you by any chance read a newspaper tale some time back about a wildman? Well...

A/N: Well, we've reached the end of Rosemary's tale. I hope you've all enjoyed it. I have left it open so that IF inspiration hits, I can explore more of Rosemary's adventures with the Cartwrights. Until the next story!