Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing so faithfully! I'm glad you enjoyed this story, and hope you like the Epilogue. :)

~Epilogue~

Ben couldn't believe how good it felt to have his own feather bed under him once again, the comfort of a soft pillow behind his head instead of a rock floor, the feel of an actual blanket over him instead of his coat, and the knowledge that all of his sons were safe and sound just across the hall. All those nights of wishing he could hear Hoss's snores, even if just one more time, were coming true. Even now through the thick walls he could hear his son's hearty racket, and it warmed him down to his very bones. He smiled, remembering how he'd felt when he saw his beloved home again, its wooden walls holding so much love and memories. The racket Hop Sing had made when he first saw his employer was one Ben would never forget. The little man had prattled on about how he'd been gone for so long and scolding him for not taking better care of himself. "You say you die, to save boys. Velly bad, Mr. Cartlight. Go back China! Hop Sing have no time for foolishment!" But before the little man had bustled back into his kitchen, Ben had caught the tears welling up in his eyes.

Turning over, he buried his head in the pillow trying to grasp the sleep that, for some reason, was eluding him. Finally, he drew back the covers and swung his legs around, sliding his feet into his slippers, knowing that he needed to do something before he could have any chance of sleeping. Retrieving his robe from the foot of the bed, he drew it on, silently opened his door and crept to the first of three doors at the top of the stairs. He knew it was a groundless worry and only a father's love would insist on him doing it. Drawing the door open, he peered inside and saw his youngest sprawled out across the bed, blankets in great disarray as if they didn't know which end of the bed they were supposed to be on. It baffled Ben how he could get any sleep in the unusual and almost painful-looking positions in which Joe would sometimes sleep.

Closing the door soundlessly, he tiptoed to the next room. He was in no fear of waking this occupant; if the noise hadn't done that already, he was in no danger of it. Hoss's nightly racket was well-known, and it was only from longtime experience that his family had learned to tune out his snoring in order to get any sleep themselves. A smile spread across Ben's face as he opened the door and saw his middle son lying flat on his back, his hands clasping the covers beneath his chin, his mouth wide open.

He shut the door quickly to keep the sound contained in that room before he strode to the third and final door at the end of the hall. No sound came from within, but that wasn't entirely unexpected. Only on very rare occasions would his eldest ever snore, and even in those instances Adam still held to the assertion that he never did. Slipping the door open and gazing inside the darkened room, Ben felt instant panic as he saw the moonlight filtering through the window shining on an empty bed. It was still made up with no signs of it ever having been slept in. He was about to enter the room and check it out further when sounds of metal clinking against metal drifted to him from downstairs. Not bothering to shut the door again, he crept to the end of the hall and peered around the banister into the downstairs.

His eldest was standing in front of the hearth, poking the logs and causing sparks to fly upward from the rejuvenated fire. Ben noticed his shirt was untucked and the first couple buttons undone as if he had intended to go to bed but decided against it. His stockinged foot was propped up on the stone hearth and his right hand was resting on his hip, apparently not seeing fit to help the left one with its half-hearted pokes at the already blazing fire. Ben noticed the hazel eyes, almost appearing black from the lateness of the hour, were fixed on the flames, unblinking and unseeing. All the signs that his eldest son was deep in thought were there, and after considering the idea of leaving him to them, Ben's curiosity and concern got the better of him and he started down the stairs.

The creak that sounded from the first step made Adam look up slowly. "Pa?" he asked quickly, putting his foot down and turning to face him. "Anything wrong?"

"Seems like I should be the one asking that question," Ben replied, tucking his hands into the pockets of his ruby red robe as he finished his descent. "You uh... must admit the middle of the night isn't the most suitable time to make sure the fire's still going."

Adam looked at the poker still in his left hand and smirked at it. "Couldn't sleep. Just figured I'd come down here."

"Oh? Any particular reason?" Ben asked, giving his son the opportunity to speak his mind if he wanted to. Adam dropped his head again and shook it no. Ben looked down at the Indian rug beneath his feet, wishing his eldest had as easy a time letting out what was bothering him as his brothers did. It was obvious he hadn't come down because 'he'd just figured to'. Turning back toward the stairs, Ben noticed the decanter tray on the round, green-topped table next to them.

"Well... as long as we're both up, how about some brandy?" he said, glancing over his shoulder before walking to the table and removing the glass stopper from the ornate bottle. After filling the two small glasses, he replaced the stopper before turning back to his son. Adam's eyes were on him, staring intently, at exactly what Ben couldn't tell. Going over, he raised one of the glasses towards him. "Adam? You alright?"

Adam blinked a few times as if to rouse himself from his thoughts before focusing on the glass in Ben's outstretched hand. "Yeah... thanks, Pa." He ran a hand through the thick black hair on the side of his head before accepting the glass. As he raised it to his lips, he stopped, his eyes wandering back to his father who was tipping his head back and taking a small sip of the amber liquid. His mouth opened slightly as the sight brought to mind a time not too long ago when it had just been he and his memories alone in that same room, memories of dreaming the very thing he was seeing now. He quickly pulled the glass away and turned back to the fire. "Pa?"

"Yes, Adam?"

"I..." he wanted to say so much, but the words just weren't there. How ironic... Adam Cartwright, the man who'd studied the written word practically all his life, now had none to say. After all, what could you say to a person who'd enriched your life so much that to live it any more without him would seem a waste? He turned to Ben who was now quite close to him, understanding and love written in every line of his face.

With the still full glass in his hand, Adam raised it upward. "Here's to you, Pa... I'm glad you're back." He stated it simply, but Ben could hear how hard it was for him to utter even that. Putting his glass down, Ben wrapped an arm around his son's shoulder and applied a very slight pressure. Adam turned slowly and Ben pulled him into a gentle hug, knowing how his eldest, again, wasn't like his other two sons in terms of physical contact. To his surprise, Adam wrapped his arms around him and squeezed with a suddenness that startled him. Ben heard him take a deep gulp trying to keep his emotions in check, and he felt tears almost seep through his own tightly shut eyes as he clung to his eldest, never wanting to let go. After several long moments, Adam stepped back suddenly, clearing his throat in an effort to regain some composure. "I guess... you'd better get to bed. It's still the middle of the night, you know, and you've been through a lot."

Ben smiled. "So have you. You coming?" he motioned to the stairs, from which, at that moment, another rather loud squeak was heard. "Hoss?" Ben exclaimed, turning in surprise. "What are you doing up?"

"I... couldn't rightly sleep, Pa. Figured I'd come down'n see who's makin' all the noise." He said it reproachfully as if perturbed at being awakened, but Ben and Adam knew better as the figure in the checkered nightgown descended to the first floor.

"Brandy, Hoss?" Adam asked, going over to the table.

"Yeah, thanks, Adam." Even at this late hour, Hoss's brow was furrowed in consternation which told Ben his son had something on his mind, and sooner rather than later he would hear about it.

"Anything wrong, Hoss?"

Hoss looked up at him with an innocent, confused look. "Aw, Pa. I just don't understand it. How a man can bottle up so much poison in 'im fer so long... I just don't understand it. He had tuh know you wasn't tuh blame."

"I know, Hoss," Ben said, resting a hand on his son's broad back. "Some people just can't be figured. A man that's bent on revenge, his revenge is like a... a wound that hasn't healed... the infection begins to fester and grow just like his revenge; it spreads and eats away at him. He'd had it for many years, and it'd come to the point of consuming him, a very powerful emotion, Hoss. One nobody should ever keep."

"Yessir."

Adam turned to hand Hoss his drink when a third creak was heard on the steps.

"And just what are you doing down here, young man?" Ben queried, looking up, hands on his hips in feigned frustration as his third and final son descended the steps in his bare feet and scratching his head as if trying to brush aside his slumber.

"Oh, Pa, you know I don't sleep if I can't hear Hoss's racket in the next room." Ben smiled at the tired grin his son gave him.

"I guess this calls for another glass," Adam commented dryly, clearing his throat slightly as he filled another of the crystal ware.

Joe stepped over to the hearth and blew on his hands before rubbing them together in front of the flames. "Hey, Pa. I forgot to ask. How'd Doc say that Travis fella was doing?"

"Well, he's had a rough turn. Lost quite a bit of blood, poor lad, but Paul said he thought he could bring him through it alright."

"What'll happen to 'im, Pa?" Hoss asked.

"I don't think anything, Hoss. Without his help we might never have made it out of there alive. He'll probably be suspect for quite a while, but he may earn his way back to having the slate wiped completely clean when the town realizes he's a good young man."

"I heard a while back one of Roy's deputies is thinking about leaving in a few months," Adam spoke up as he came back over to the group. "Perhaps Travis might even fit into a job like that. I think he's certainly proven himself."

"Hey, wouldn't that be somethin'?" Hoss beamed.

"Sure would," Ben replied. "Quite ironic, as a matter of fact."

"Looks like everything'll work out for him then, huh," Adam resumed his leaning against the hearth's stonework.

"Yes... everything worked out. But it wouldn't have if it hadn't been for you boys."

"Aw, Pa, you otta known you couldn't get rid of us three roughnecks that easy," Hoss joked, but his blue eyes held a touch of seriousness.

"Oh, I would never try, son, except for maybe now. If you three haven't noticed, it is the middle of the night; why don't you 'roughnecks' get to bed."

"Aw, now, Pa, I haven't even finished my drink," Joe whined, flopping down onto the settee next to Hoss. As if on cue, Adam also took his place in the blue chair, and the three seemed to settle in, perfectly content to just sip away on their drinks as if they didn't want to part company despite the inconvenience of the hour. Finding himself outnumbered, Ben slid into his own red leather chair as conversation slowly developed among the four of them, laughs and good times exchanged and everything the way it should be.

After a while, Ben let the conversation go on without him, rapt in the music his son's voices made and realizing that sort of thing probably hadn't taken place among them in quite some time. Their financial status had been severely damaged, and it would probably take them a good two years to build back their livestock, but Ben knew they would make it. He still couldn't believe the amount of support he'd already received from a good many of their friends. However close that devil McWhorter might've come to destroying his family, he hadn't succeeded. He remembered a time during his imprisonment when he had wondered if he could keep on going, if it would be worth it. Surrounded now by his family, all of them safe and ensconced in their battered but still very much their own Ponderosa once again, he chided himself for a fool...

It was worth it... It had all been worth it...

~The End~

For some reason I am unable to PM Areader and cma, directly so I would like to thank you two on here for reading and especially reviewing this story. I'm glad you enjoyed it and thank you again for showing your support through your reviews. :)

~ClassivLovinGirl (aka: Cliff) ;)