A hundred million years ago when I wrote this story the Internet was still fairly young and most Bonanza fanfic was posted on privately owned sites, by owners who knew how to code, and in one shot, so it was originally posted in its entirety. There were good things and bad things about this system. In this particular section, it was hard to break into chapters, and I actually like the flow when it is all together, but it was much too long to post, so the breaks might be a little awkward.

BOSTON

(Part 2)

He had loved watching the rowing as it turned out - loved watching it as much as Adam had loved doing it. It was a breathtaking sight, the slender boats cutting through the water while the teams rowed rhythmically in time - like a single person. Like a bird's flight, almost. They shot across the silver breast of the water, under the budding trees, in the shadows of the buildings - the sound of the coxswain's calls as mesmerizing as their strokes. Be even more beautiful in fall, he had caught himself thinking - under the colors of the trees. Served him right for assuming things…thinking ahead, making plans…fate always got even with you for that.

He liked watching Adam with his teammates - happy and playful - romping with each other like an oversized litter of puppies. Probably what he was like at home with his brothers. Made him feel young again just to see them push and tease each other. They won their fair share of matches, but that wasn't the point, really. Though there was some talk of forming an elite team and rowing against Yale the following year. Now THAT would be something to see. Abel found himself anticipating it in spite of himself. Show those Connecticut folk a thing or two.

Adam would always meet him after he had toweled off and changed back into his street clothes, his hair curling damply from the sweat of exertion. He always seemed more relaxed and content after the exercise. "Enjoy yourself?" he would ask easily.

"Going to drown yourself," Abel would always declare stubbornly.

Adam would grin in response. "Knew you'd like it," and throw a comfortable arm over his shoulders to guide him home to Mrs. Longworth and a waiting lunch. It was all so pleasant. So - satisfying. It had lulled him, that's what it had done - until he had forgotten to be afraid.

Abel returned to his seat on the bed and flipped ahead to the last letters in the bundle.

Dear Grandfather, How are you? I am fine. I have a new brother. His name is Joe. It seems kind of funny because he's about as small as Hoss was big and he cries a lot but I like him okay…

Sounded a little easier now. More normal. The next letter of the bunch was filled with rapturous descriptions of Adam's new foal that he was going to get to train himself - evidently the foal's arrival put that of a baby brother to shame. To hear Adam tell it, that horse was so smart you'd expect him to be able to read, at least. There was even a passing reference to Marie knowing something about horses…from Adam, high praise indeed. Marie though, not Ma. But it was a start. Oh, and since Grandfather had sailed to the other side of the world, then he must know if the people there were hanging upside down? If the world was round, how could they not be? But then, how did they keep from falling on their heads? If Grandfather knew, could he please write and tell him? He'd like to know. Your loving…

The footsteps overhead had stopped now, the voices dropped to the faintest of sounds. He tried to listen once again, ridiculously, really - he couldn't make out words when they were shouting - what did he expect to hear when they were muttering? But things seemed a little steadier. More stable. And there were no feet making their way to the stairs…so maybe that was a good sign. He would take it as a good sign. He leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes.

He had never missed a match. By that last one he considered himself a veteran - could spot some of the tricks the coxswain was calling, could almost remember to call that damned skinny boat a scull. He smiled slightly. Not that he would. Give Adam far too much satisfaction. He had a regular spot he liked to stand in to watch and woe betide the soul who tried to stand there instead. He still had his sea captain's glare at his disposal, and it was still unmatched. Oh, Adam had a halfway decent glare of his own, but it was still unformed, really - amateur. Mrs. Longworth had made him a scarf of his own in Harvard's colors to help keep out the spring chill. It tickled him some to be wearing it among that teeming mix of students.

That last race was a tense one, and the blood sang in his veins as he watched the two crafts slicing across the rippled surface; now this one nudging ahead, now the next. He had been watching closely, cheering Adam's team on, but he had still missed what had happened, exactly - who had taken a turn off course and why. He probably only imagined that he heard the faint thunk of hull bumping hull under the roar of the crowd, but he knew he didn't imagine seeing both the slender crafts roll…slowly, so slowly, it seemed, it was almost surreal…turning upside down and dumping their oarsmen head over ears into the swollen spring waters of the Charles. He was sure that his heart actually stopped dead in his breast.

A few heads popped up right away, laughing, damn silly boys that they were, grabbing the oars or onto the sides of the capsized crafts…but not the particular head that he was looking for. He started to shoulder his way forward through the crowd muttering half-hearted apologies, his eyes fixed on the water below. Just another stupid notion, really - he had no idea what it was he thought he could do when he got there - swim his way out to them? At his age? He only knew that he had to do something - to get closer - to find the missing head that had gone under and not come up. And then suddenly it erupted from the water, shaking wet hair away from its face, choking up great mouthfuls of the river. He slowed his pace, stopped. His heart started to beat again.

He watched as one of the oarsmen pounded the sodden figure between the shoulder blades. He must have made a witticism of some sort, because he saw Adam drape himself over the overturned bow and laugh. He shook his head. Stupid boys, didn't even know when they were in danger. Had he ever been that young and stupid? Someone had a rowboat out there now, was righting the vessels and bringing the boys in to shore. A couple were swimming alongside the boat, keeping pace. His, of course. Stupid boy.

He made it to the water's edge just about the time Adam emerged, still coughing up water and laughing. One of his teammates slapped him on the back and someone else handed him a towel. He rubbed it over his face before noticing Abel standing there. He smiled cheerfully in greeting. "Damn, that water's cold!"

"Watch your language," said Abel automatically. Not that he didn't swear himself.

"Sorry." Adam applied the towel to the back of his neck, still grinning.

Abel felt almost dizzy with relief, and it made him waspish, so he continued bitingly, "So, how deep exactly is the Charles at THAT point?"

Adam gave a burst of surprised laughter, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "A little lower than it used to be, I can tell you that - think I swallowed about half of it!" He looked over to where the sculls were draining, upside down on the water's edge. "Guess that one's a draw."

"Hmph. Is that what that was. Took years off my life - and I don't have them to spare."

Adam straightened, suddenly sober. "You all right? Need to sit down?"

Abel bristled. "Sit down indeed! I'm not an old woman!" Adam's mouth quirked quizzically, and Abel served up his best sea captain's glare. "Don't be impertinent!"

Adam chuckled. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it. Clear as day." Adam confined the laughter to his eyes this time, blotting at the water running from his hair. Abel studied him closely. "And what about you? Are you all right?"

Adam slung the towel around his neck and looked down at himself. "I," he decided solemnly, "am very wet."

"Scuttle along and change, then. Or Mrs. Longworth will loose her hoity-toity ways on the both of us for being late." He scowled thoughtfully. "Well, on me, that is. YOU always seem to escape that treatment."

"That's because I'm polite to her."

"It's because you're bloody teacher's pet!"

Adam laughed out loud this time, scrubbing at his hair with the towel and making his way to the changing area. "I'll be quick."

Abel watched him walk away, couldn't resist one last parting shot. "Adam!" he called.

Adam turned questioningly.

Abel smirked. "Told you you'd upset."

Adam's eyes danced. "Told you I'd swim," he retorted.

Abel hadn't been quite able to stop the smile then, and he couldn't quite stop it now at the memory. He opened his eyes again and tugged the next letter from the pack.

Dear Grandfather, How are you? I am fine. Well, maybe not exactly fine - I broke my collarbone taking a header from Beauty and bumped my head a little and now I'm not allowed to ride for a while. Beauty and me were doing really good, too, and I think I'm really okay to ride him, but Pa won't even let me do chores except some little things for Hop Sing, so I guess he really means it. Most times Pa always says chores come first. He told me if I ever pulled a stunt like that again he'd tan me so hard I wouldn't be able to sit down for a month and seeing his face I guess he meant it, but I don't get why he's so mad. I was just trying to train Beauty to do some stuff and that's what I'm supposed to be doing, right? I think Beauty will make a really good cutting horse.

Marie says that Pa wouldn't really tan me while I'm hurt and that he's not really mad, I just scared him, but he sure looked mad to me. Besides, I'm not that hurt. I don't see what the big fuss is, but Marie is right about Pa lots of times so maybe she's right about this, too. I hope so. I hate it when he's mad at me.

Ben was a better man than he was, he decided - more courageous. Watching Adam take a spill into the Charles had shaken him so badly - how did Benjamin deal with the endless chain of inevitable tumbles and spills? Not just for one son, but for three?

Marie calls me "mon petit" (she told me that's how to spell it, but it sounds more like "mawn pettee" or something like that) and I finally asked her what it means. She says it means "my little one", which is silly, because I'm not little, but she calls Hoss that, too, and he's not so little either, so I guess it's okay. Joe, too, but Joe is little, so that makes sense. Sometimes instead she'll say "mon petit shoe" and finally I asked her why she would call me and Hoss and Joe shoes and she laughed and said that's not what it means in French. I asked her what it did mean and she said "my little cabbage" and I said I thought I'd rather be a shoe. She said that French didn't translate very well to English sometimes, but that it was a good thing - a thing you called people you liked very much. So I guess that's okay, too, though it doesn't make much sense to me. Still, she probably means it. Marie doesn't tease a lot like Pa.

Anyway, I hope things are all good in Boston too. I hope I can ride again soon, because I sure am bored. I think I even miss my chores. Your loving grandson, Adam.

P.S. Marie told me that Illinois is pronounced Illinoy even though it's spelled Illinoise because French people named it. Even though they named it after Indians, they spelled it French. I don't really get this French, but it is interesting. Marie knows some interesting things.

Marie's name had crept more and more into the letters - missive by missive, epistle by epistle. She always stayed "Marie", never "Ma", but maybe that was only natural. Maybe "Ma" had been reserved for Inger, "Mother" for Elizabeth. Maybe keeping her first name gave her a place of her own in Adam's life.

He returned the letter to the bunch of its brothers and tried to listen to the room above again. Nothing. Not a sound. A good sign? Who could tell? He wasn't sure he believed in changes in luck any more.

Almost a week after the rowing match that ended in a dunking Abel had been unfolding his napkin at the breakfast table. Adam wasn't at his place yet and that was unusual, because Adam always rose early and studied before starting the stove fire for Mrs. Longworth. But it was exam time, and maybe he had lost track of time and was still studying. Or maybe he had been studying too late last night and had actually overslept. Abel had smiled at the thought. If that were the case, Adam would be mortified.

Mrs. Longworth was setting out breakfast and he was about to go to the foot of the stairs and call Adam when he finally appeared, a little disheveled, and slid into his customary chair.

Abel smiled behind his napkin when he noticed that he had evidently cut himself shaving. "Oversleep?" he queried politely.

Adam nodded dumbly, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead then reaching for his napkin.

Abel's smile slipped a little when he caught a glimpse of his face. "How late were you up studying?"

Adam shrugged. "Not too late." He took the platter of hotcakes from Abel, eyed it a little dubiously, then forked a couple and poured himself coffee.

Abel returned to finishing his own meal. He was shaking out his napkin and sliding it back into its ring when his eyes fell on Adam's plate. The hotcakes were now cut up and spread around, but had not noticeably diminished. Adam seemed more interested in his coffee, rubbing absently at a spot between his eyes while he sipped. Abel had been about to excuse himself, but that made him pause. "Not hungry?" When was Adam ever not hungry?

Adam started to shake his head then seemed to think better of it. "Not really. Bit of a headache."

"Mrs. Longworth has some headache powders. Better ask her for some."

Adam nodded.

"Studying too hard?"

Adam shrugged.

"Might be a good night to get to bed early." And when Adam didn't answer, "Adam."

Adam glanced up. "Yeah," he said unconvincingly. "Yeah - I'll try."

"All right, then. Have a good day." Abel made his way to the door, picked up his hat and overcoat. He glanced back at Adam, still sitting motionless at the table, feeling curiously reluctant to leave him. Then he saw Adam push himself heavily to his feet and move toward the kitchen and Mrs. Longworth, and he finally positioned his hat on his head and made his way slowly out the door.

He cocked his head again, straining to listen. Some faint shuffling noises, but that was all. What the devil was taking so long? Seemed as if the doctor should have been able to treat a whole bloody hospital by now and still have time left over for lunch. He yanked savagely at another letter.

Dear Grandfather, How are you? I am fine. I can do some chores now though I can't cut wood cause one arm still isn't too good. I wanted to start back with Beauty but Pa said not without supervision. I've hardly had supervision my whole life, I don't know why he's making such a big fuss now. Marie said that she would help me cause she likes horses too and Pa started to say "no", but Marie gave him a look that's sort of like the one Pa gives me when he means I'd better do what he says and no arguments - not just like that, but it reminded me of it. And Pa frowned real hard like he does sometimes just before he yells real deep, but she just kept looking at him until he said he guessed it would be okay as long as I was careful and didn't overdo things. Then he gave her a look like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or be mad, kind of like he gives me or Hoss when we've done something bad but not really bad. I mean, it doesn't help, he always tans us anyway, but sometimes he looks like he wants to laugh too. And then she looked at him again and he looked back, this sort of - I don't know what to call it, but it makes me feel funny inside when they look like that, so I looked away. But anyway, it turned out good because I got to work with Beauty and Marie helped. She knows some good stuff about horses.

Later Pa asked her how it went and they did that looking back and forth thing again with nodding and stuff - I don't know why they do that like we don't notice, I guess they think Hoss and me are blind or something - and Marie told Pa I was a regular centaur. I thought I remembered what that was from that book you sent me on Greek Mythology but I looked it up to be sure. It's those creatures that are half horse and Pa looked kind of…I don't know what to call it. It was good though. I think Marie's help with Beauty is good. I mean, I'm still training him myself and everything, but she knows some good stuff when it comes to horses. Your loving grandson, Adam.

He smoothed the letter closed again, letting his hand rest on it. Sounded as if Adam had been lulled as well - his ever-vigilant guard around his heart had begun to slip. He edged the letter back into the packet, still listening for signs from above, still thinking. How did one learn to live with such slips? More importantly, how on earth did one live without them?

Abel had watched Adam through his lashes at dinner that night, noted that he seemed no more interested in that meal than he had been in breakfast. Something about his eyes looked wrong, too - they seemed heavy and listless, like his movements, none of the veiled merriment or sly humor or keen interest he had become so used to seeing there evident. Finally, when he couldn't stand it anymore, he had blurted, "Something wrong with Mrs. Longworth's stew?" And, when there was no response, more firmly, "ADAM!"

Adam's head jerked up in surprise, and Abel saw a flicker of pain shiver across his face. "I'm sorry…did you…?" He kneaded unconsciously at his brows in a gesture that was becoming almost chronic today.

"I asked you if something was wrong with the stew." He waited while Adam looked down at his plate as if he was surprised to see there was stew on it. "Head still hurting?"

Adam nodded non-committaly. "Some."

"Did you ask Mrs. Longworth for the headache powders?"

"Mm hm."

Abel drew in an exasperated breath. It was like trying to talk to a bloody wall. "And did they help?"

"Some."

"Are you coming down with something?"

Adam shrugged.

"If you don't want to eat then maybe you'd better be getting to bed. It will probably be better in the morning."

Adam sat back in his chair and sighed. "I really need to study."

"I don't think you'll get a lot of studying done anyway from the look of you. Go to bed and start fresh in the morning."

Adam pushed at his forehead again as if he was trying to keep it from exploding outward. "Maybe you're right."

Abel smiled grimly. "It's been known to happen. Take yourself off to bed, and if you're not better in the morning then we'll call the doctor."

Adam pushed away from the table and navigated carefully to his feet. "I don't need a doctor - I'm sure it's nothing."

"Hmph." Abel watched him make his uncertain way to the stairs, his own face creased with worry. "And maybe you'd better think about letting go of rowing for a while."

Adam didn't look back at him. "Yeah, maybe," he answered listlessly.

Abel's heart froze within his chest. Maybe he should send for the doctor right now.

TBC