FOUR

Jim Kirk stepped out of the Cartwright bunkhouse and stretched his arms toward the sky. It was late and he was tired. Still, sleep eluded him.

When Ben Cartwright had agreed to let him work for them, the older man had meant just that. He'd been sent out immediately with one of the older hands to meet up with Cartwright's middle son, Hoss, to complete the work of mending fences on the western range. He had to be honest, it had felt good to do something with his hands. He loved what he did, sailing the stars and seeking out new life and new civilizations, but at the same time there was something to be said for putting down roots and working a piece of land, for taming it and turning it into something to be prized and passed on to the next generation. His life was, well, complicated. There was a simplicity about ranching that called to him.

Kirk smiled. It probably went back to his roots as an Iowa farm boy.

Stepping away from the bunkhouse, the blond man turned his face upward. The stars were dazzling, clear as diamonds and just as brilliant. They winked at him, challenging his wish for a bit of earth of his own to settle down on. It was tempting – the scent of pine and moss, the rush of a raging river in the distance, the ground beneath his feet. Still, he knew it was only a dream. He was a sailor as sure as Benjamin Cartwright had been once upon a time. It amazed him that the older man had been able to put it all behind him – that spirit of adventure, of sailing the seas and never knowing what was around the next bend. But then, he had never married and had not had sons. If he had, it might have been different.

Would he ever, he wondered?

Kirk had just turned back toward the bunkhouse when something stirred. Instantly on the alert, he pivoted on his heel in time to see a shift in the shadows near the house. He'd left the gun Adam gave him in the bunkhouse. That had been another thing – the feel of a finely made and handmade instrument in his hand. It had brought a smile to the face of the boy he had been who had loved the old adventure stories of the Wild West. Uncertain what to do, Kirk decided a challenge would have to suffice.

"Who's there?" he called as he took a step forward. "Answer me!"

The shadow of a man appeared. It quickly turned into Ben Cartwright.

Kirk stood down. "Sorry, sir. I didn't know it was you."

"Are you keeping watch?" the older man asked.

He shook his head. "I couldn't sleep. I just stepped out for a breath of air. You?"

Ben Cartwright approached him. When he stopped at his side, he looked up at the panoply of stars above their heads. "Breathtaking, isn't it?"

Kirk smiled. "It certainly is."

"The sky reminds me of the sea," Ben said softly. "Ebon swells glinting with starlight."

Kirk nodded. "It's none of my business, sir, but –"

"Ben. Please," the older man said with a smile. "We don't stand on formality here."

"Ben."

"Well?" the rancher asked. When he frowned, he added, "Your question?"

"Oh. How did you give it up?"

It was Ben's turn to be confused. "It?"

Kirk indicated the black expanse above them, punctuated by the light of those diamond stars. "Sailing the seas."

The older man remained silent a moment. When he spoke at last there was a longing in his voice, like the cry of a sea mew sounding over still water. "When I was young, I thought only of myself and what I desired. I had a deep yearning within me to see the world." Ben paused. When he spoke again, his tone was tinged with regret. "It's a legacy I have given to my oldest boy."

"Adam?"

"Yes. I've tried to make him understand." Ben pursed his lips. "The world calls to a man like a beautiful courtesan. It's splendor is seductive. It promises everything he desires and whispers in his ear that it will bring him pleasures unimagined and, in the end, happiness." The older man smiled sadly. "There's a reason for the legends of the sirens, Jim. They're real, but they're not sitting on a rock somewhere singing songs and combing their long hair. They are here," he pointed to his head and then his heart, "and here. They call to a man to abandon everything but his need to feed the hunger inside." He laughed then, a short bark. "In the end those desires consume the man."

"But you weren't consumed."

"No, no. I wasn't."

"What saved you?"

There was a pause. "The love of a good woman." The older man turned toward him. "You didn't say. Do you have a wife or children, Jim?"

Kirk shook his head. "There's been no time."

Ben Cartwright's hand came down on his shoulder. "Make time, son. It's home and family that complete a man."

He knew from the records that the elder Cartwright had been married three times, each wife dying tragically at a young age and leaving him a son. He'd suffered so much loss, but it was obvious the older man would not think for one second of doubting the choices he had made.

"I got to know Hoss a little today," Kirk said. "He's a good man and so is Adam. I look forward to spending some time with your youngest as well." He hesitated a moment. "Both of your older sons told me I remind them of their younger brother." He grinned. "I'm not entirely sure it was in a good way."

Ben Cartwright's near-black eyes turned away from the sky to settle on him. Kirk experienced something in that moment that was not unheard of, but was rare. He sensed a nearly primordial force in the man – a power of command that matched, or maybe, exceeded his own. The land baron was rock solid as the ancient mountain ranges that populated his lands; his strength and belief in himself and his sons as deeply rooted as the pines that covered the mountain's rocky face. Here was a man who never wavered, never doubted a decision once it was made. And yet, at this moment, in those unassailable black eyes, Kirk saw something he would never have expected.

Fear.

"Ben," he asked. "Is something wrong?"

The older man started, as if his thoughts had been far away. "No. No. At least, I don't think so." His smile was chagrined. "Adam and Hoss tell me I'm like an old mother grizzly."

Kirk made a leap. The last he knew the youngest Cartwright had not returned and he had heard no wagon come into the yard.

"You're worried about Joe."

Ben crossed his arms and rested a thumb against his lips. "He should have been back long ago."

"Would he have stayed in town?" The ship's archives were rife with the exploits of Ben's third son. While he didn't exactly raise Hell, Joseph Francis Cartwright raised enough Cain to land him in the history books.

The older man shook his head. "Not without permission, and not after what happened last night."

Kirk nodded, accepting that. "Would you like me to go look for him?"

Ben dark eyes reflected his gratitude. "Not now. It would be pointless. We'll look at first light." The older man stirred. "Most likely something delayed them and Joe and Vance made camp for the night. I'm sure they'll ride in in the morning, right as rain." The older man placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for offering. Now, you should get some rest, young man."

"If you don't mind my saying so, sir, you should too."

The older man laughed as he lifted his hand. Then he did a strange thing. He saluted. "Yes, sir!"

It appeared Ben Cartwright sensed they were kindred spirits as well.

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Still later that night, after the Cartwright household had settled and all of the men in the bunkhouse were asleep, Jim Kirk left his bed again. A low almost inaudible chirping had alerted him to the fact that someone from the Enterprise was attempting to reach him. Unsure of whether it was McCoy, who was quartered in the ranch house, or Scotty calling from the ship, he had risen and gone outside. Once he was certain there was no one posted who would notice his movements, Kirk moved away from the house and opened his communicator. Tuning it to the signal he had received, he waited for a voice on the other end.

"Jim, is that you?" he heard McCoy whisper.

"Yes. Where are you?"

"In the house. Do you think it's safe for us to meet? I had a few things I wanted to go over with you."

Kirk didn't like the sound of that. It reminded him of the time on the Enterprise after they had left Sigma Iotia II when Bones reluctantly informed him that he might have left his phaser behind on the planet, possibly contaminating an entire culture.1 "Bones...what did you do?"

There was a moment of silence. "Probably nothing."

"'Probably' nothing," he echoed. "But possibly something?" When the doctor said nothing more, Kirk agreed. "All right, Bones. Where do you want to meet?"

"You're the farm boy. Where do you suggest?"

Not the stable, he thought, or the barn. The animals might react to the presence of strangers. "Somewhere away from the house." Kirk glanced up. "How are you at navigating by the stars?"

"As good as any land lubber," came the doctor's gruff reply.

Kirk sighed. "How about I set a homing signal on my communicator and you follow it?"

McCoy's tone brightened. "Now, that I can do! See you shortly."

The blond man initiated the signal and then closed his communicator and moved into the woods, glancing behind as he did to make certain there was no movement at front of the house. When he was satisfied, James T. Kirk turned face forward and set out to select a meeting place.

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Hoss Cartwright never understood why he got so powerful hungry in the middle of the night. He'd get himself a big scrumptious snack before headin' up to bed – near big as Little Joe hisself – and then he'd lay himself down to sleep and, dang it! if his stomach didn't decide to up and start talkin' to him every time about four or five hours later.

The big man heard the tall clock strike three as he descended the stair. He'd peeked in Little Joe's room on his way down and found his brother was still missin'. He sure hoped Joe and that odd fellow Theron Vance had bedded down for the night somewhere and not run into trouble on the way back from Virginia City. Pa had come up at about two in the mornin' and must have fallen asleep. The older man would be up bright and early lookin' for baby brother and if he didn't find him, that'd be the end of sleepin' for all of them. If it came to that he might think of things differently. He might hope Joe had run into a mess of trouble cause if he hadn't, then it was gonna find him when he had to face down their pa.

Hoss' stomach rumbled like to wake the dead.

"Hold on there, fella," he said, a smile curlin' the edge of his lip. "Grub's a comin'."

The big man knew there was some of that apple pie Hop Sing had fixed for supper the night before left, and he'd spied a cold side of beef with his name on it when he'd eaten his before-bed snack. Both were callin' to him now. He made his way to the kitchen and placed his hand on the larder door, glancin' out the window that opened onto the porch as he did, and froze.

That there stranger – the one who said he was a doctor – was movin' past the front of the house and headin' into the woods.

Now what was that feller from Georgia up to?

Hoss glanced down. He was in his night shirt, but he'd left his trousers on expectin' that early mornin' call from Pa to go lookin' for Little Joe. He always kept a spare pair of boots in the mud room. The big man glanced up the stairs, but decided he'd lose the trail if he took time to get a fresh shirt. So, instead he tucked the ends of his night shirt into his trousers and then headed for his boots. In two shakes of a lamb's tail he was headed out the door. Well, maybe three. He'd grabbed some of that there roasted beef before leavin' the house.

After all, if his stomach decided to strike up a conversation, it might just give him away.

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Jim Kirk was pacing, wearing a path into the sparse grass, when Leonard McCoy found him. His friend did not look happy. The physician supposed it was because Kirk had been mulling over all the things that could have gone wrong since he hadn't told him what it was that had. Not that it was anything bad. He'd only made a couple of compromises.

Just a couple.

Stopping just without Kirk's circle, McCoy cleared his throat.

"What took you so long?" Jim snapped as he halted and turned toward him.

McCoy shrugged. "I had to work my way through the woods. I'm a doctor not a frontiersman."

Jim stared at him in that way that he had, the one where his whole body was a challenge. "So?"

He swallowed. "So?"

"So, what did you do?"

McCoy pulled at the black necktie holding up his collar. "You make it sound like I committed a crime."

Kirk was taken aback. "Did you?"

"No, I just...well...I brought a few things with me that were not on the requisition list."

"Not on the..." His captain paled. "Tell me you didn't bring a phaser."

McCoy pursed his lips and rocked on his heels.

Jim's hands flew in the air. "You did! What were you – Wait, did you use it?"

The physician shook his head. Then he shrugged. "Not really."

"How can you use a phaser 'not really'? Bones, what did you do? Tell me!"

"I used it to open a lock."

Kirk blinked. "A lock."

"Yep.

"Couldn't you just pick it?"

McCoy straightened his back. "I'm a doctor not a –"

The blond man finished it for him. "...a lock-pick, I know." Kirk ran a hand over his chin. "And where did you pick this lock?"

"In the Cartwright's barn."

"The Cartwright's barn." He drew a steadying breath. "Did anyone see you?"

"No. Well," his frown deepened, "at least I don't think so."

"You...don't...think so."

"I'd finished and put it away before I stepped out of the barn and found Adam Cartwright waiting for me." His grizzled eyebrows leapt with hope. "He didn't say anything."

Kirk was drawing long, slow breaths. "Things. You said, 'things'. Plural. What else did you bring with you?"

"Well," he grinned, "you know Spock. Odds are when we find him he'll need patching up. I brought some medical supplies, a hypo-spray, and a few other items."

"And since we haven't found Spock yet, have they all stayed in your pouch since your arrival?" Jim asked, his look indicating he knew they had not.

"All but one."

"Which one?"

"The Cartwright boy surprised me, the one called Little Joe. I had just materialized and there he was, staring at me and asking questions I couldn't answer, so I..."

"You...?"

"Put him to sleep."

Kirk's anger had been building. It exploded in a barely controlled, "What?"

"I was going to revive him, but then his brother showed up – and his father – and they took him into the house." He took a step toward him. "Jim, you know how it is. The longer someone is under the more likely they are to suffer consequences."

"And Joe Cartwright was under how long?"

He gulped. "A couple of hours."

"Good God, Bones! That young man isn't a father yet. Do you realize what you've done? You may have altered the time stream. We have no idea what contributions his descendants play. One of them could have invented the warp drive!"

He frowned. "We know who invented the warp-drive, Jim."

"Yes, but do we know who his great-great-great-great grandfather was?"

Point taken.

His infuriated friend took in several deep breaths to calm himself. "Can you tell if there will be any lasting effects from this hypo-spray that you brought with you and used even though you were ordered specifically not to?"

"I can if I can examine Joe again," McCoy stated plainly. "I tried to before, but the family is so close I couldn't manage any time alone with him. I thought since he was still out here somewhere, maybe you and I could find him and we could – "

"You stop what you're sayin' right there, Mister, and both of you put your hands up!"

He and Jim pivoted toward whomever had spoken. They exchanged glances when they realized the big man with the big rifle emerging from the trees was none other than Hoss Cartwright – the very irate brother of the man they had just been discussing.

Kirk moved forward a step, waggling a raised finger. "I can explain..."

"You can do your explainin' to my pa," Hoss growled. "Adam was right about you, after all," he said, aiming his comment at him. "You ain't no doctor."

"Oh, yes, I am."

"Doctor's don't hurt no one. I heard you talkin' about hurtin' Little Joe."

McCoy exchanged a look with Jim. His captain sighed and nodded his head ever so slightly.

"If I may," he said in his best southern drawl, "I'll just reach into this pouch and show you what I used on your brother. It's harmless as a shot of whiskey."

"Then why was you talkin' about 'consequences'?"

"There are consequences when a man drinks too much, aren't there?" he said as two fingers located the hypo-spray. "Some can be long term as well." He waited. "If I may?"

The big man glared at him over the rifle. "You're sayin' whatever you got in that little pouch at your waist is what knocked Joe out?"

"May I show it to you?"

The rifle was lowered – ever so slightly. "Go ahead."

McCoy withdrew the instrument. He held it out, allowing the starlight to catch on its silver case and make it glint enticingly "Now does that look so dangerous?" Noting the man's puzzled expression, the physician offered it to him. "Here. Take a look."

Hoss moved forward like he was facing off a mountain lion. Slowly, step by step, he grew closer. At the last he reached out and snatched the instrument away.

"What is it?" the big man asked, eying the medical tool as if it was a snake ready to bite him.

McCoy smiled. "It emits a dust that can put a man to sleep. Something like laudanum. Its empty now, of course, but you dispense it by pressing that button at the back."

Ben Cartwright's middle son shifted his finger to the right. "This one here...?"

It took both of them to catch him when he fell.

Once they had deposited Hoss Cartwright on the ground, he turned to Jim and said, "See? I told you it would come in handy."

Kirk's look could have fried duranium. "Now what?" he demanded.

"We find Joe Cartwright and check him out?"

Jim nodded toward Hoss' recumbent form. "And what do we do with sleeping beauty here?"

"I'll administer the antidote before we go and he'll wake up in about fifteen minutes. He'll have a headache and his memory will be foggy, but that's about it."

"We should put him back in his bed."

McCoy blinked. "Why?"

"That way when he wakes up he'll think it was a dream and our cover won't be blown."

The physician scratched his head. "And, considering his size, just how do you propose we do that?"

Kirk pursed his lips and then turned his hazel eyes on him.

"You don't happen to have a repulsor-lift folded up and tucked in that bag of yours, do you, Bones?"

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In the end they had to leave sleeping beauty lie on his bed of grass. Kirk regretted it as it meant both he and McCoy would now be suspect in Ben Cartwright's eyes, but there was nothing to be done about it. Even if they could have lifted the big man and carried him back to the Ponderosa, getting Hoss into the house and up the stairs without rousing those who were sleeping would have been impossible. They'd decided the risk was not worth it and, after returning to the ranch to pilfer two horses, headed out to locate the other Cartwright son who had traveled to Virginia City and still not returned. Kirk hoped they would find Joe as his father expected, camped somewhere along the trail to town, whole, and sleeping peacefully.

Still, knowing how his luck had been going so far, the blond man seriously doubted that was going to be the case.

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Ben Cartwright woke again about four in the morning. He went first to Joe's room to check and see if his youngest had returned. Finding it empty, he moved to the head of the stairs and descended. The scent of coffee brewing filled the air. Hop Sing was already up and at work, preparing a fine breakfast to sustain them all for the day to come. As he entered the great room Ben considered what that day might hold. He wondered if Joe was just being Joe – carefree and perhaps a bit careless – or if something had occurred that had delayed his son.

Something that entailed some sort of threat or risk to him and maybe to the Ponderosa as well.

Passing into the kitchen he greeted his surprised friend and cook. While he intended to leave with a pot of coffee and a cup, Hop Sing shoved a fresh breakfast roll and some fruit into his hands as well. Sitting down at the empty table to eat, the older man was struck by a sudden premonition – a fear, really, that for some unspeakable reason it might soon be this way – just him, alone at the table, without his sons. As he sipped his coffee, he tried to throw off the feeling of dread, but failed miserably. Coming to a decision at last, Ben rose, intending to go upstairs and rouse both of his older boys and go out to look for Joe, but before he could the front door opened and Hoss stumbled in still wearing his night shirt and looking like something the cat would have refused to drag in.

"Hoss! Son!" Ben crossed swiftly to his side and took his arm. "What were you doing outside?"

His middle boy looked at him, his face almost comically screwed up with confusion. "I don't rightly know, Pa. One minute I was openin' the larder and the next thing I remember I woke up in the woods."

Ben led him to the settee and settled him there. Going to the table he poured a cup of coffee and returned with it. While Hoss sipped the strong brew, Ben waited. When it seemed his son had calmed, he asked him again.

"What were you doing outside?"

Hoss puzzled it over a minute. "I think it had somethin' to do with Joe, Pa. And maybe with that new man name of Kirk." He took another sip and shook his head. "Then again, maybe I was just dreamin'."

"You think you were sleepwalking?" Joe had done it before, but not Hoss. Maybe worry for his brother?

Hoss shook his head. "I don't rightly know, Pa. But I cain't shake the feelin' that somethin's wrong."

"What's wrong?" a strong voice asked from the stair.

Ben looked up to find Adam already dressed in his usual black and descending. "It seems your middle brother was sleepwalking," he replied.

Adam's brow did a little dance. "In his nightshirt and boots?"

The older man looked. Hoss did have his boots on, and trousers. Would a sleepwalker take time to stop and dress?

"I checked Joe's room. I assume he's still not back," his eldest said as he came to rest beside them.

Ben shook his head. "No, and frankly, I'm worried."

Adam frowned. "For once I agree, Pa. There's been too many things happening around here for this to be coincidence."

"You mean the strangers?"

He nodded. "I checked McCoy's room. He's gone too. And I bet if we check the bunkhouse, Kirk's with him. There was something..." His son met his troubled gaze. "I think they know each other."

Ben's scowl deepened. He seldom so misjudged a man's character. "You're sure?"

"No. But I'd lay a bet on it." Adam walked over to the sideboard. Once there, he picked up his father's holster and gun and held them out. "What's say we ride and find out what is going on?"

"Hoss," the older man asked, "are you able to sit a horse?"

His son finished his coffee and stood up. "Just let me get a proper shirt, Pa. Then I'll be ready."

Ben looked from one son to the other, feeling pride – pride and a kind of fear. He'd reared them to be bold and courageous, to look danger in the face and not fold or fall back. Did that mean he had also reared them to take chances, to court risk and perhaps, invite death?

"Pa?" Adam asked, clearly concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"No, son," he said, accepting his gun belt and fastening it around his hips.

"Get your gear ready. We'll eat first and then ride to find your brother."

1 A Piece of the Action