One Little two Little Three Little Thunderbirds

by Marla Fair

A friend of Ben's comes for a visit, bringing with him his three daughters and a dark secret from his past. At first it appears the greatest danger the visit presents lies in the insanity of a trio of young females in the Cartwright household. All too soon it becomes apparent that Gil Jenkins' demons have not been laid to rest and threaten not only him, but the Cartwrights as well.

2. Part Two

FOUR

Adam was sure he'd been told one time that snickering was a sin, or at least the thought behind it was. Still, he couldn't help it.

He'd had never seen Joe look so miserable.

It partly had to do with the fact that while, as he had threatened, their father had not turned his little brother into a dressmaker's dummy, the older man had put him at the Jenkins' girls' disposal. Instead of breaking broncos and roping steers, Joe was holding straight pins between his teeth and stretching out a tape to measure fabric. He'd even been sent to town to buy lace and buttons, a sight which the black-haired man would have given his right arm to see. There were a few rewards, of course – afternoon tea with finger sandwiches was one of them. That's what was happening now. Joe was sitting on the hearth with a linen napkin on his lap, balancing a precarious plate of chicken sandwiches on his knee. One hand held a teacup, while the other was extended to act as a rack for the yarn Deirdre was winding. She was knitting Hoss a sweater.

Joe'd gone to town two more times to get enough yarn.

The black-haired man closed the door behind him and hung his hat on the rack by the door. He'd just come in off the range and was covered in dust. While they had guests, their pa was a stickler for proper attire at supper and so he headed for the stairs, intending to make a quick escape.

It wasn't meant to be.

"Adam, will you come here a minute?" Ainslee asked.

He turned toward her. "Well, actually, I need to get cleaned up before we eat."

"It will only take a minute," she said sweetly.

Adam scowled. Was this on the order of attracting more flies with honey?

Drawing a breath, he left the steps behind and crossed to the area before the fire that contained all three girls and a pitiable Joe. Taking a seat on the settee beside her, he turned to the oldest Jenkins' girl and asked, "Now, what can I do for you?"

Ainslee shook her head and blew out a little breath. "Talk some sense into my sisters' heads."

He looked from Fiona to Deirdre. Deid, as she was known, was busy with yarn flying. Fiona or Fee, who was seated to the side of Joe and facing his brother's back, leaned her chin on her hand and was staring – at Joe's back, at Joe's hair, at Joe's...rump.

Women.

"Sense about what?" he asked.

"This ridiculous notion that there are dragons living in the desert to the south of the Ponderosa."

Adam blinked. "Dragons?"

Ainslee frowned. Her eyes shot to Joe. "You haven't told him?"

Joe shoved a chicken sandwich in his mouth – conveniently. His answer came out as an unintelligible, 'Mmrrumph'.

"Dragons." Adam's lips pursed and one black eyebrow arched. "Yes, Joe. Why don't you tell me about the dragons? Once you swallow, of course."

Joe's expression seemed to indicate he was considering which would be the least painful – telling him or choking on his food.

"Hoss and Joe saw a dragon the night Hoss hurt his leg. Didn't you, Little Joe?" Deidre asked as she tugged the last length of yarn from his brother's arm, freeing him to grab another sandwich. "In fact, it was the dragon that knocked Hoss off his horse!"

The other brow rose to match the first one. "I see..."

Deirdre put the yarn down and moved to sit on the edge of the settee table as she warmed to her tale. "Hoss told me that he was riding through the rain, hunting for stray steers, when a wind came up and something flew past and brushed his horse, spooking it so it threw him off. That's why he fell. He said it smelled powerful bad like a whole pool of rotten eggs." Her blue eyes were wide. "When Hoss looked up from the bottom of the gully, whatever it was blacked out the sky!"

"Hoss told you this?" As she nodded, his eyes went to Joe. He'd like to have asked him if they had been drinking, but that wouldn't be polite in present company. "So, Joe, what did you see?"

Joe looked like a little boy who found a lump of coal in his stocking at Christmas.

His plate was empty.

"Joe?"

His little brother was a handsome man, but he could pull some funny faces. Sucking a piece of rhubarb might have described this one.

"Well, I didn't see any dragon."

"Yes, you did!" Deirdre insisted. "You said it flew over your head and flashed its eyes and you smelled something burning like – "

"I didn't see anything!" Joe nearly shouted. He realized pretty quickly that that was bad form. "Sorry, Deid, but I didn't. It was black as pitch. I couldn't see anything."

"But you said..."

"I said I saw something looming overhead. The stars went out. There was a rushing wind and then," he paused, "two flashes of light. Then I smelled something burning."

"Sounds like a dragon to me," Adam prompted.

It looked like Joe'd sucked three pieces this time. "You just shut up!"

Adam wagged a finger. "Temper, temper."

Joe's fists were up. "I'll temper you..."

The black-haired man shook his head. "Not in front of the ladies."

His little brother looked from side to side. All three girls were staring at him, though Fiona looked the hungriest of all. Joe dropped back to the hearth. "I tell you, I don't believe in dragons. It's Hoss making all the trouble."

"So Hoss believe in dragons?" Adam asked, slightly skeptical.

Joe shrugged. "Well, kind of. He believes in the Thunderbirds, and he thinks they may be dragons."

Adam thought a moment. "The giant birds the Indians believe in? The ones that guard the gates to Heaven?"

"Well, you saw that old Indian who helped us. Hoss thinks he's..." Joe hesitated. It was obvious he felt like an idiot. "Hoss thinks he's their keeper."

"The Thunderbirds."

Joe nodded. "Soon as he's able, he wants to go out there looking for them. I told him Pa would skin him if he finds out what he's up to."

"So..." Adam began. "If you don't think what you saw was a dragon or a Thunderbird, what do you think it was?"

Joe chewed his lip. "I haven't got a clue."

Adam leaned back in the settee. After thinking a moment, he began, "While I don't for one minute believe there is anything supernatural about what you saw, Joe, it is evident both you and Hoss did see something. Whatever it was, it was dangerous enough to knock Hoss off his horse. The fact that you smelled something burning is troublesome too. You never know when the land's going to go dry. So I think," he paused, "that you and I should go back to the lake and take a look around."

Joe glanced at the various articles of the womanly arts – and the women – surrounding him. "I ain't got paroled yet."

Adam fought the snicker again. "I think I might be able to persuade Pa to liberate you."

It was amazing. In unison all three of the Jenkins' girls put their hands on their hips while exclaiming, "Well, I never!"

"Ladies," Adam soothed, "you have to understand, while my youngest brother values your company and attending to your needs as dearly as his own life, he is a man and there's something inside of a man that can only take so much sitting – and knitting." He leaned forward and lowered his voice, speaking almost conspiratorially. "Now ladies, I ask you, which kind of man do you prefer – a city slicker sitting in an office, sipping tea and eating biscuits, or a man who can rope a steer with one hand while holding a pistol in the other and hitting a bulls eye as he rides past?"

Fiona was still looking at Joe. She sighed so hard her shoulders rose a full two inches. "I'd take the one with the muscles," she breathed.

Deirdre seconded that with an enthusiastic nod.

Adam turned to Gil's oldest daughter. The late afternoon sun was streaming in the window and it set her golden hair on fire. It was the first time he had realized how truly beautiful she was. "Well, what do you think, Ainslee?"

Her eyes flicked to Joe and then back to him as her rose petal lips curled in a smile.

"If I had to make a choice, I'd take the one with the mind."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben Cartwright nodded his thanks to Hop Sing as the Chinese man cleared the dishes from the table and returned to the kitchen with them. Their cook had outdone himself tonight by fixing a delicious basted chicken with vegetables. The silver-haired man wiped his lips with his napkin and laid it beside his plate, quite content. He glanced at his old friend, Gil, who sat at the other end of the table, and then let his eyes roam over its six other inhabitants. They were lined up like contenders in some kind of contest – the three Jenkins' girls on one side and his three boys on the other. He didn't know what had passed between them before they all sat down to supper, but the looks, avoided looks, and responses to looks were at the worst irritating, and at best, comical. Joe and Deirdre were shooting daggers at one another. Hoss – who had been freed from his confinement by Doc Martin earlier in the day – was leaning on his fist eying Gil's middle girl like she was a prime steak. Fiona was seated directly across from Joe and had somehow managed to eat her entire meal without taking her eyes off of him, while her older sister seemed mildly attracted to Adam, who was doing his best to remain aloof and out of the whole thing.

Doing his best, but failing.

The older man sucked in a breath and let it out with words. "Well, I think that was one of Hop Sing's finest. What do you say, Gil?"

His old friend nodded as he reached for his glass. "I heartily agree, Ben."

"And what did you think, Ainslee?" Ben waited. When Gil's eldest girl failed to respond, he asked again. "Ainslee?"

She blinked and her head turned toward him. "Did you want something, Ben?"

"I asked if you enjoyed your meal."

"Everything was delicious," she replied.

"How about you, Deirdre?"

Gil's middle girl was obviously enjoying the attention she was getting from his middle boy. "I declare, Mister Cartwright," she said, "that chicken was just about the most wonderful thing that's ever passed by these lips!" Deirdre pointed toward her lips and pursed them even as she batted her long ink-black lashes.

Hoss's jaw nearly hit his empty plate.

"Yes, well." He turned toward Gil's youngest. "Fiona, how about you?"

Fiona had both elbows on the table and leaned her chin on her hands. She drew a deep breath and let it out in one long-suffering sigh. "Everything is wonderful here," she murmured, her eyes still fixed on Joe.

Joe squirmed appropriately.

"I see..." The older man shifted back in his chair. "So, tell me, what have the six of you been up to today?"

Six faces turned toward him at once. Each one wore a guilty expression.

"Why, why we ain't been up to anything, Pa," Hoss stammered. "Whatever made you think we was?"

"That's right, Pa," Joe said, a little too quickly. "I spent the day helping the young ladies here, like you said. There wasn't time for anything else."

Ben nodded. "How about you, Adam? Did you spend the day doing nothing as well?"

"Actually, I was busy. I rode out to check on the ranch hands in the south pasture. You know," Adam dropped his napkin on the table and leaned back in his chair. Ben saw his eyes flick to his youngest brother. "I was thinking maybe Joe and I should go back to the area of the lake and see if we can round up the missing steers."

"I thought the hands did that already."

"They didn't find all of them."

"It looks like there's another storm headed our way, Pa," Joe chimed in. "Adam and I thought maybe we should head out tonight and make camp. That way we could look for them at first light." His youngest's gaze passed over Fiona – halting briefly as it did to take in the girl's loveliness, no doubt – before landing on him. "How's that sound?"

Ben pulled on his chin. "Well, I don't know. The girls need help with – "

"Hoss will be here, Pa. I'm sure he'd be happy to chaperone the lovely ladies while we're gone," Adam interjected. "Isn't that right, Hoss?"

The older man watched unspoken words pass between them. "Sure thing, Pa," the big man nodded. "The Doc said it's okay for me to be out of bed and doing things, just so's I'm careful. I'd be happy to help the little ladies all I can."

"Yeah, Pa. Hoss can stretch yarn and hand out pins with the best of them!" his youngest enthused.

He'd been here before. Many times. Over thirty years of raising boys had honed his senses to a fine point. He knew when they were scheming. He just had to decide whether or not to let them know he knew.

"So let me get this straight, you and Joe want to take off for Lake Tahoe while you brother stays behind to entertain Gil's girls. And all you are doing is looking for strays."

"What else would we be doing?" Adam asked, putting on his most angelic countenance.

Joe did the same – only there was always a touch of the Old Nick in his youngest's look. "Those strays need corralling before they hurt themselves."

The steers weren't the ones he was worried about getting hurt.

Ben looked at Gil's daughters. "How do you young ladies feel about it?"

"I'd like to go along and watch," Fiona sighed.

Joe looked like he was going to jump out of his skin. "It's too dangerous for a girl," he said.

The older of Gil's girls rolled her eyes. She looked directly at Hoss. "Seems to me that one's sex has nothing to do with getting hurt."

"I know!" Deirdre had one of those feminine looks – the kind that got the ancient city of Troy burned to the ground. "We'll ride out and bring you lunch!"

Adam raised a hand. "There's no need. Why, we probably won't even have time to eat. Will we, Joe?"

Ben nodded. "I think that's a splendid idea! You boys can go, but on the condition that the girls join you for lunch."

"Pa, I don't know if that's such a good idea," Hoss said, his tone odd.

"Oh? Why?"

There it was again. The conspiratorial silence he had noticed earlier.

"Well, it's kind of...dangerous out there alone on the range," his middle son said at last. "Specially with them bein' city girls and not used to the wilderness."

"But we won't be alone," Fiona declared. "We'll be with real men who can hit a bull's eye while roping a steer." She batted her eyelashes at his youngest. "You'll keep us safe, won't you Little Joe?"

Joe nodded as he pulled at his collar. "Sure thing, Fee."

"Well, then, it's settled – unless you have some objection, Gil."

"I think an outing is just the thing these fine young people need, Ben," his old friend said as he pushed his chair back and rose. "And it will allow you to take me up to that range you wanted to show me."

Ben nodded. "Adam. Joe. Get your gear together. There's only a few hours of daylight left, so you'd best be on your way."

"Sure thing, Pa!" Joe replied. Seconds later his youngest was bounding up the stairs, headed for his room.

Ben glanced at Fiona and smiled. Free at last.

The older man turned back then to find his eldest son heading for the door. He caught up to him just before he opened it. "Adam, is there anything you would like to tell me?" Ben asked quietly.

Adam frowned. "Like what, Pa?"

"Like what you are really going to the lake for."

"Just what we said, Pa. We're looking for steers."

"Just for steers?"

His son shrugged. "What else is there?"

Ben released Adam's arm. As his eldest disappeared out the door, he turned back to find the three girls huddled around Hoss. They were already deep in conversation.

What else indeed?

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"This is where I found you," Adam told Joe as they stopped beside a tumble of rocks. He tugged on the collar of his tan coat and pulled it closer about his throat. Whatever system of weather had settled over their portion of the Nevada territory, it was bound and determined to bring winter in before its time. There was a chill mist in the air and a rising wind. Joe had been right. There was another storm approaching. They'd have to seek shelter before it hit. His brother had suggested they locate the cave he and Hoss had been holed up in. He'd agreed as it was the surest one to find, and a visit there might actually aid them in solving the mystery of the old Indian and, well, Hoss' Thunderbird dragon.

Good Lord! The things he let himself get talked into.

"Do you have any memory of how you got here from there?" he asked, meaning the cave they were seeking.

Joe had his hands on his hips and was turning in a slow circle. "I was awful tired, and I was dragging Hoss..."

"I imagine that's why you were 'awful tired'," Adam suggested wryly.

His little brother snorted. "I imagine so." He turned around one more time and then remained fixed on the south. "I think it was this way."

"Think? Or know?"

Joe glanced up at the sky. It was nearly dark. Soon, looking for anything in this region with its gullies and rises and tall rock piles and walls would be impossible. His brother's face had a funny expression. Well, not funny really. Though Joe would never admit it, whatever he had run into out here had him scared.

"Sure as I can be, Adam," he said at last. "I wasn't exactly paying attention to the landscape. I was just putting one foot in front of the other, heading home." Joe looked over his shoulder. "Home's north, which means you and I need to go south."

Adam removed his hat to wipe a sheen of water from his face and then replaced it, lowering the brim for protection. "Rain's coming. We need to get moving."

Joe hesitated a moment, looking down at his boots, almost as if he was waiting for him to take the lead. Then, in true little brother fashion, he took a deep breath, steeled himself against whatever demon he was fighting, and plowed ahead.

With a smile Adam followed in his wake.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was ridiculous. There were no such things as dragons or Thunderbirds. So why did he keep looking up and over his shoulder?

Joe shook his head and winced as rainwater flew from it. They'd been walking for about a half an hour and, during that time, the clouds had broke open and water begun to pore down. In the distance there were rumbles of thunder, so a storm was on its way. He had to lead Adam to the cave before it hit. He didn't want a repeat of the night when he and Hoss had become separated and Hoss had fallen into a gully. He knew Adam felt responsible for him, but he was just as responsible for Adam – especially as he was the one who had been to the cave and should have known where it was.

The trouble was, he didn't. After all, someone had led him there and, when he left, he was hauling Hoss and not thinking about much – as he said – but putting one foot in front of the other. Still, the land they traveled looked kind of familiar and he thought they were headed in the right direction.

It was almost pitch-black, so they'd better get there soon.

Joe glanced back at his brother. They were both walking and leading their horses as the terrain was too uneven for them to ride and be sure of their footing. It was a good thing their pa thought older brother knew what he was doing. If the silver-haired man had known they were wandering around out here in the dark, nigh-on to lost, his hair'd be a shade closer to white! As Joe stood there staring, waiting for Adam to catch up, there was another rumble of thunder. The wind picked up even more, riffling through his brown hair like a lady's fingers and dragging a few of the curls into his eyes. As he reached up to brush them back, there was a crack of lightning. Cochise snorted and blew air out of his nose. Close by Sport gave an answering whinny.

"It's almost on us, Joe. Any luck?" Adam asked.

What moonlight remained revealed a tall wall of rock before them. He nodded toward it. "I think that's it."

"Let's hope you're right. I am more than ready for a fire and place to lay my head."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Five minutes later, as the storm rolled in over their heads, they found it. Joe went in first, eager it seemed to prove something to himself. Adam followed more slowly. Once inside he recognized the cave from Joe's earlier description. The remnants of the fire were there and the rack he had described that held their wet clothes. It was a good dry cave, and at the moment seemed about as close to Heaven as he had ever been.

It took a while for the two of them to shake off the busy-ness of the day and so they sat for about an hour, quietly talking about a number of things. Only one time did Joe bring up Hoss' dragon and when he did, it was as a joke. Still, Adam could see that there was something there – a real fear or apprehension. Whatever had happened out here several days before was still haunting his baby brother. And since Joe didn't scare easily, he had to accept the fact that whatever it was that had happened, it had to be real.

Finally Joe stopped talking. He rolled over, his breathing evened out, and he was asleep in seconds. Adam continued to sit and think and then, maybe fifteen minutes later, rose to his feet and headed for the cave mouth.

Rain or shine a man had to relieve himself.

At the entrance to the cave he paused. The rain had lessened, but he knew it was because they were at the heart of the storm. All around the cave the lightning cracked and the thunder rumbled. The respite was a good time to step into the trees and so he took advantage of it, emerging several minutes later just as a bolt of lightning struck with a crack and the land shook beneath his feet with its fury. Adam turned in its direction, checking to see if the bolt had set anything on fire. At that moment a gust of wind struck him and something – something big and black – passed between him and the stars, making the stars go dark.

A second later he smelled something like sulfur.

FIVE

"Joe! Joe! I saw it! Wake up, Joe!"

First one green eye opened, and then the other. Joe focused on the black blur standing beside him, shouting at him to wake up, and then fatigue won out and his eyes closed and he rolled over to sleep.

The black blur caught his arm and turned him back. "Joe! Come on! I saw what direction it went. We need to follow, now before it gets away!"

Joe shuddered and then rolled into a seated position. As he sat there, blinking, the blur coalesced into his brother Adam. Big brother's hazel eyes were wide and just a little bit wild. "What 'it'?" he asked drowsily.

"Hoss' dragon!" Adam declared as he made a beeline for the cave mouth.

Joe rose unsteadily. He'd been deep asleep. As he stumbled after Adam, he noted the lightning strike just without the cave and halted. "Adam, it's raining."

Adam turned back with a frown. "I know that." He held his arms out. The black cloth was dripping. "What part of me knowing that don't you get?"

"Ah, Adam..." he whined. "I don't want to get wet again."

"Look. Do you want to find out what this thing is or not?"

"Sure I do, but – "

"Well, come on then!"

With that final shout Adam ran out of the cave.

Joe hesitated a moment longer and then placed his hat on his head and followed.

The night was wicked. A cold wet wind spit into his face as he exited the cave. Joe pulled his collar up close about his throat and then cast his gaze about, finally locating his brother about fifty feet ahead of him. Visions of another Cartwright laying at the bottom of a gully with water piling on top of him finally got the man with the curly brown hair moving. It took about ten seconds to catch up with his brother. When Joe drew alongside him, Adam gripped his arm and pulled him down into a crouched position. Then he pointed up.

"Joe, look!"

He looked up, more than half expecting to see a fire breathing dragon perched on top of one of the tall piles of rocks. Instead he found a man. The lightning cracked even as the man rose to his feet, revealing a tall figure wrapped in a long dark coat. The coat's tails snapped in the wind, lifting and then swooping down like a giant bird's wings to wrap around his legs.

"Is that your native?" Adam asked, his lips close to his brother's ear.

Joe looked closer. "I can't say for sure, but I don't think so." The native had been old and frail, his back bent like a bow. Whoever this was stood up straight and tall and had more bulk. "Hey!" Joe called out. "Hey, you up there! "

"Joe, no. I don't think that's wise..."

He started to ask why not. He got his answer a second later when there was a flash of light, a small concussion, and a bullet struck the earth near his feet, kicking up mud.

Even as Adam dove to the left, he called out, "Joe, take shelter!"

Joe glanced to the right. The night was black as the inside of God's pockets. He had no idea if the ground was flat, if there was a drop-off or maybe even a fifty foot cliff bare inches from him. Taking courage in hand, he dropped and rolled, pulling his gun from its holster as he did and getting off a shot that went wild. A second later there was a burst of light to the other side of the rock pile as Adam did the same. Joe heard the bullet strike the rock and ricochet.

"Joe, run! He has us at an advantage! Get out of his line of fire!"

For once Joe did as he was told. He knew his older brother could take care of himself. Besides, if he could make his way around the back of the rocky tower, he might be able to climb to the top and take the man by surprise. There was no way of knowing what they had stumbled onto. There was that band of Indians their ranch hand had seen. This could be one of them. And there were those missing steers. Maybe this was a rustler out to steal their cattle. If so, whoever it was would be bound and determined to make sure they didn't survive to tell the law about it.

Joe glanced up as he edged around the column of stones. Whoever it was, was perched high on the rocks. He was turned in Adam's direction and paying no attention to him. Cautiously, the brown-haired man reached up and caught hold of one of the stones. It wasn't easy. The rocks were wet and in places slippery and his fingers were cold and stiff. Still, he worked his way up. As he got to the top the lightning struck again, illuminating the lower portion of the cloaked figure, revealing a pair of white man's pants and store bought boots.

The man stepped forward and knelt on the edge of the boulder. He watched for a moment and then lifted his rifle and took deliberate aim.

Joe began to shake. What if it was Adam he had in his sights?

"Adam! Look out!" He shouted even as he pulled himself up and over the edge and then barreled toward the shooter. "Adam! Run!"

Joe's hurtling form hit the man just below the knees, knocking the rifle from his hand and propelling him over the edge of the rock. At the last second, the man's hand closed on his ankle.

With a startled cry, Joe went with him.

It seemed like they fell for an hour, though he knew it could have been no more than a few seconds. Whoever the shooter was he landed first, crying out as he did. Joe hit him instead of the ground. The man's body cushioned his fall, but the impact knocked the wind out of him. Rolling off, he lay there, breathing hard. In the distance he could hear Adam calling his name.

Unsteadily, Joe rose to his feet. He stumbled back a few paces.

And fell again.

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It was like being in a pit in Hell. The light and the wind whipped around Adam as he worked his way over the uneven land calling his brother's name. He kicked himself for being so impulsive. It was just, well, he had seen something beyond explanation and he didn't like things that went beyond explanation, so he damn well wanted to catch it and explain it so he could shut down for the night and sleep. How in the world was he supposed to know that there was something else out here – something that posed a greater threat than Hoss' dragon?

A man.

He'd run west, praying to God that Joe ran east. He'd heard his brother cry out, telling him to run, and had taken off like a shot, just outpacing the bullet that struck the earth near his feet. He'd kept on running for a while and then had stopped when he heard a curious sound. Something struck the earth hard and a man cried out. The voice was deep, so he didn't think it was Joe's. Still, there was no way to be certain until he found his brother, which was going to be damn hard on a lightless night in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a storm.

The tall tower of rock was before him – at least he thought it was the same tower the shooter had used as a platform. Unfortunately one pile of rocks looked pretty much like every other pile of rocks in the dark. Still, this one had a decided lean to it like the one he remembered passing. As he moved through the dark and the rain Adam walked with one hand stretched out like a blind man, seeking to protect himself from anything unexpected. He'd been winding around the rock in ever widening circles for about two minutes when suddenly – unexpectedly – he stepped on something.

Something soft.

"Good God!" the black-haired man breathed as he dropped into a crouched position. "Joe?"

Adam could tell the moment he went to turn the man over that it wasn't his baby brother. Whoever this was had a build like he did – medium-sized and broad – and probably weighed a good fifty pounds more than Joe. He leaned down and placed his ear against the man's chest to check for a heartbeat. It was thready and his breathing was labored. If this was the shooter – which he supposed it was – then the man had fallen a good twenty to thirty feet to strike the ground. Most likely there were internal injuries. Adam rocked back on his heels and sat there, the rain soaking him, for a handful of heartbeats as he tried to make up his mind. If he wanted to find out what this was all about – why the man had shot at them and why he was here in the first place – then he was going to have to get him to a dry warm place. Otherwise the combination of the cold and the rain and shock might kill him. There was, however, one problem.

Little Joe was missing.

Adam rose to his feet and moved to the back of the rocky tower, thinking – if Joe had fallen – he might find him laying there. As he reached the opposite side, the moon broke free of a thick bank of clouds to send its silver fingers groping along the land. Something glinted in one of its beams. The black-haired man frowned as he crossed over to it and knelt. When he saw what it was and where it was laying, a pit the size of Nevada opened in his stomach.

It was Joe's pearl handled pistol and it was laying on the edge of a rock face.

Adam dropped to his knees and looked past the swirling mist and into the ravine itself. Its sides went straight down for five or ten feet and then rolled away into blackness. There was no way of knowing what lay hidden in that mist – wet grass, inches of mud, or several feet of water. The black-haired man glanced at the pistol he held in his hand. Had Joe climbed up and tried to take the shooter? Had the two of them struggled and both fallen? Was Joe up where he was, only feet away from him, laying unconscious somewhere in the darkness, unable to call out?

Or, God forbid! Had he gone over the edge?

Adam turned back to look at the injured man. If he left the shooter where he was, he might die of exposure. But then again if he took the time to drag the man to the cave, he might be dooming Joe. His brother could be injured or, worse than that, be laying at the bottom of the ravine in six inches of water right now drowning. Adam pursed his lips and grunted..

Life certainly could turn on a five cent piece!

Returning to the man, Adam checked his vitals again. He was breathing easier and his heartbeat had regained some strength. So maybe he would make it. Taking hold of his boots, he dragged him over to the rocky tower and positioned him so he was partially protected from the wild night. Tearing a few strips of cloth from the man's shirt tail, he used the strips to bind his hands and feet and then returned to the ravine and toed the edge. It was sheer foolishness – not to mention stupidity – to go over and ride the mud to the bottom. He had no proof Joe was down there.

He should wait for that and for first light.

Cupping his hands about his mouth, Adam called out. "Joe! Joe, can you hear me?" The black-haired man sucked in a painful breath as he waited. Was he really here again, so soon? Somehow it seemed, since the arrival of Gil Jenkins and his girls, that everything had gone wrong. "Little Joe! Answer me! Joe!"

Nothing.

Adam sat and swung his legs over the edge. For a moment he remained where he was, a whispered prayer on his lips.

Then he began the slow, cautious descent to the bottom.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Even as Adam began his search for his little brother, rounding the rocks and stumbling on the fallen man, Joe awoke at the bottom of the ravine. He groaned as he opened his eyes and wiggled his nose, breaking the new crust of mud that had formed there. Sitting up, he put a hand to the back of his head and ran his fingers through the mass of brown curls like a comb, probing for the lump that had to be there. He winced when he found it and then gingerly felt all around it. The lump was close to the size of a goose egg and throbbed like a crushed thumb, sending pain strong enough to rattle his teeth pounding through his head. Rising slowly to his feet, he looked around. The moon was darting in and out of the clouds, but there was enough light to see the high wall of rock, dirt, and grass beside him. He looked up and frowned. He'd been up there, hadn't he? A second later it all came back in a flash like lightning. Of course, he had. There'd been someone shooting at him. He climbed up and tackled them and both of them had fallen. Joe glanced around but didn't see anybody else, so the shooter must still be up top.

Way up top.

There was no way with the rain, wet rocks, and mud that he was going to be able to climb out of the ravine. There was a fairly well-worn path beaten along its edge, so he'd just have to follow that and see if he could find a place where the wall dropped lower or the land rose up to meet it. He started to walk but then hesitated. There was something else. Something. Someone...

Adam. He'd been with Adam.

Damn!

Joe frowned. He halted and listened. When he didn't hear anything riding the wild wind or rising above the sound of the pounding rain, he put a hand to his mouth and called out. "Adam? Adam, can you hear me? Adam? Are you there?"

Remaining still, he listened again. There was nothing. With the wind howling, it was pointless. He'd just have to hope that Adam figured out what he was doing and managed to pace him along the ravine's top edge.

Hopefully big brother wouldn't be stupid enough to follow him to the bottom.

Joe tucked his head down, letting the brim of his black hat bear the brunt of the wind as he began to move. Unfortunately, the ravine channeled it like a tunnel and it was near strong enough to blow him over. Leaning into it he pressed on, traveling along the bottom of the dirt wall, headed for God only knew where. As he walked he pondered the mystery of the man who had shot at them. There was no way anyone could have known they would be out here, not even the ranch hands who were working the range. It appeared he and Adam had stumbled onto something – most likely men rustling cattle or trespassing illegally on their land – and had come close to paying for their discovery with their lives.

Joe removed his hat and shook it. Then he ran his wet sleeve over his wetter face. He sure hoped Adam was all right. Big brother could be laying up there somewhere bleeding out with a bullet in him.

"Don't borrow trouble, Joe," he told himself, speaking out loud. "Just keep moving. One foot in front of the other."

Continuing on at the best pace he could, Joe hugged the edge of the ravine, noting as he went that it seemed to be getting higher instead of lower. When he looked up, the sky put him in mind of that first night when he and Hoss had been down in one of these natural ditches and he had seen – well, whatever it was he had seen. He wondered now if it had been the man he had tackled. The shooter's long dark coat flapping in the wind had kind of looked like a giant bird's wings, and the spark of his gun like a bright blinking eye. There was also the scent of gunpowder, which came close to smelling like the proverbial dragon or Thunderbird's fire and brimstone breath.

It was easy out here to get spooked. There was so much hiding in the shadows, waiting to jump out and take you on. One of the first things their pa had taught them was respect for nature. He showed them the soaring beauty of the great Ponderosa pine trees, the sparkling wonder of a river glinting in the sun, the bounty of a field ripe with grain, but he had also taken them deep into the woods where they encountered hungry wolves, protective momma bears, and all the things that creep and crawl that can take a man out with one touch of their claws or bite of their venomous fangs. There was a world within a world on the range and though a man might be at the top, he was still only one more creature in the food chain.

The more he thought about it, the less likely he thought he had actually seen anything other than a man. After all, there were no such things as Thunderbirds or fire breathing dragons. They belonged in a story heard around the campfire at dusk, wrapped in a warm blanket and leaning on your pa's side, just on the edge of sleep.

They were the stuff dreams were made of.

Joe traveled on for several more minutes and then stopped abruptly. Facing him was a solid wall. The ravine had ended in a horseshoe of rock and dirt and there was no way out. Squinting in the meager light, he assayed the rock face for hand and footholds, but saw very few. Anyhow the surface of the rock was glistening, which meant it was wet and most likely slippery. Backing up to the ravine's wall on the left hand side, he slipped under a narrow overhang and stood there out of the rain, thinking. He could turn back. Still, he'd been walking for nigh onto half an hour and that really didn't appeal to him. He could try to climb out. That was probably futile. Or –

Or he could enter the cave maw that yawned before him and hope that it came out on the other side like the ones he remembered from being a boy.

Of course, if it was dark out here, it would be darker than dirt inside the cave. He had no light to carry in with him. Sure, he had matches in his pockets, but they were as soaked through as he was. So that meant plunging into the unknown and facing it without a torch – or a weapon. A moment before his hand had gone to his gun belt in anticipation of trouble, but come away empty. Along with his wallet, he must have lost his gun in the fall.

Which was not good.

Joe stood there, torn. Lifting his face into the rain and wind, he tried calling his brother again. "Adam! Adam, can you hear me?"

Shivering as he waited, the youngest Cartwright counted ten heartbeats and then gave up. "Who are you kidding?" he asked himself. If Adam had been ten feet away, the likelihood that he would have heard him was small as a pup's chance in a pack of wolves. He considered backtracking again and dismissed it. Then he headed for the cave. At the very least he could take shelter in it and wait for Adam to find him. At the most, he might find a way out of the ravine.

Or, he snorted, he might just find Hoss' dragon.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

He'd forgotten how much he hated mud.

Adam picked his foot up and reached for his pants leg. Lifting the sodden fabric, he frowned. The mud was so thick at the bottom of the ravine that it had rushed up and over the edge of his boots filling them as he hit bottom, leaving his feet swimming in cold wet muck. He snorted rain out of his nose and then pinched it to clear the remaining moisture away. Why did this always happen? When he found Joe, he should knock him from here to next Wednesday for being so rash and impulsive. He wouldn't, of course. No, he wouldn't because he'd be so happy to see the kid alive that the most anger he could muster would be to shake him a bit before giving him a big bear hug.

At least this time it wasn't haying season.

Adam glanced again at his boots, considered removing them and emptying them out before moving on, and then decided it would be useless. Instead he raised his right foot, frowned at the sucking sound it made, and soldiered on with his head bent low against the wind and his collar pulled up tight to fend off the chill. As he walked he called out to his brother, though he knew that was useless too. The wind was howling through the rocks like the proverbial Irish banshee.

As he walked, the black-haired man considered the events of the last few days. They were as muddy as the land he traversed. Hoss and Joe had been here, on this same bit of it, when they saw a great black shape both thought was a bird of mythic proportions. They'd been rescued by an old Indian and left in a cave to dry out. He had come looking for his brothers and seen both the Indian and something like this bird, though the one he saw lacked the flashing eyes Joe had described. They'd returned home then to find that the paper contained a report of a group of men finding a similar creature's dead carcass in the desert and that a band of 'scientists' – he hesitated to employ that word, but that's what the papers called them – had recently arrived in California to dissect it.

What would be next? A sighting of the Leviathan in Lake Tahoe? Unicorns in Carson City?

Adam blew out a frustrated breath. He and Joe had plotted and planned and managed to wrangle permission from their father to return to the place where all of this had happened in order to see what they could find. What they found was a man – in a long dark coat flapping like a bird's wings in the wind – who tried to kill them.

How was all of it connected? Was it connected?

Somehow he thought that it was.

He and Joe had been separated by the man's gunfire. Joe being Joe, had climbed the pile of rocks to the top where the shooter was perched and taken the man on by himself – which resulted in both of them falling and Joe going over the edge and into a ravine.

And here they were.

Adam stopped and cupped his hands around his mouth and called again. "Joe? Joe! Are you there?"

Faith made real gold of pyrite at times. He got an answer.

The black-haired man cocked his head and listened. Moving forward, hopeful, he called out again. "Joe! If that's you, answer me!"

Yes. A definite reply this time. And it was Joe. He recognized his little brother's light tenor voice. It seemed strong, so that suggested the kid was okay.

"Joe! Where are you?" he called out even as he pressed on.

"Adam, where are you?" his brother echoed.

Adam saw a slight form emerging from a wall of blackness directly in his path. Joe had his light gray shirt on today as well as his darker gray pants, and looked like a ghost by contrast. His kid brother raised his hands over his head and waved them wildly as he jogged forward. At first he thought Joe was signaling him to join him. Then he noted how tense his brother's form was and realized it was a signal all right –

A signal to stay back.

At that instant mud exploded up from beside him as a result of the impact of a bullet fired from the ridge above.

Even as he varied his course and headed for the shelter of the shadows on the far side of the ravine, Adam shouted. "Joe! Get back! Get out of the line of fire!"

His brother was already on the move. Joe must have seen him making for cover.

Adam started as another shot came from overhead. It struck the rock wall beside him and ricocheted. He pivoted in time to see the silhouetted figure of a man raise his rifle, look along the sight, and take aim again. As the gunpowder flashed and the bullet roared out of the barrel, Adam turned back – just in time to see Joe jerk, spin, and fall into the pool of shadows at his feet.

"Good God!" the man in black breathed between clenched teeth.

Breathing hard Adam hugged the rock wall, careful to remain completely hidden. He considered his options – which were few – and then concluded that the only thing to do was to work his way along the rock face until he was close to the point where he had seen his brother fall, and then run like Hell across the open space remaining. It looked like there was a cave carved into the rock, though he couldn't be sure. That would explain how Joe had seemed to come out of nowhere.

Drawing a deep breath, Adam began to move.

As he worked his way forward he caught snatches of conversation floating down from above. 'Do you think you hit him?' one man asked. 'Can't let them escape,' said another. And still another asked, 'Where's the oldest one?'

Adam halted. 'The oldest one?'

Dear Lord! Could it be someone they knew?

The black-haired man halted and looked up again. In all there seemed to be four shadows moving along the ravine's edge some twenty feet up. Luckily, they didn't seem inclined to descend into the mud pit the ravine had become.

Misery had at least one advantage it seemed.

Concerned for Joe, Adam prepared to move. Unfortunately, the moon had broken out of its bed of clouds a few minutes before and that meant he would be visible and vulnerable as he sprinted across the open area before the cave. Jaw clenched, muscles tensed, the man in black prepared himself to make the dash, but stopped as a strange sound filled the air. It was something like the beating of a hundred bats' wings, and was followed by a loud snort and a low, long hiss. Adam saw the men on the ridge react. They pivoted and looked up even as a great black shadow blotted out the moon.

Adam stared a moment, mouth gaping, and then realized he needed to move. There wouldn't be a better opportunity than now. With one last glance at the sky he shot out of the darkness and dashed across the open space, entering the cave mouth just as four bullets struck the muddy ground outside it. Once inside he stood for a moment, catching his breath, and then returned to the entry and looked out. Joe wasn't there, so he had to be inside. Turning back Adam looked again, but saw nothing of his brother.

How could he have disappeared so quickly?

Moving into the cave Adam called, "Joe!", and listened as his brother's name echoed back from the depths of the cave.

Joe...Joe...Joe...

He frowned and took ten steps forward.

"Joe!"

Joe...Joe...Joe.

Again the echo. Then, another sound.

Footsteps.

"Joe, thank God!" the black-haired man breathed in relief. "I was afraid you had been..."

Adam's voice trailed off. It wasn't Joe.

It was the old Indian.

The native held a sputtering torch that eerily illuminated his ancient figure. His body was twisted and bent to one side like a tree that had known blight but fought and struggled to survive. His skin and hair shone like gold, but Adam knew that was an illusion. That first day – when the Indian had led him to Joe and Hoss – he had noted how fair the man was and that his hair was white as snow. He wore a buckskin shirt and leggings now as he had then, along with a pair of knee-high moccasin boots.

The native lifted his free hand and gestured for him to follow.

"Do you have my brother?" the man in black asked.

Again, the Indian made a motion for him to follow. Then he turned and vanished, becoming one with the shadows at the back of the cave.

Left with little choice, Adam did the same thing.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

If he'd made a mistake in trusting the Indian, it was a big one.

The native led him down and around, through the cave's dark corridors in such a way that it was doubtful he could find his way out on his own. When they had traveled about a quarter of an hour the man halted and pointed forward. In the distance Adam could see a new source of light. It flickered as if cast by a fire, throwing strange writhing shadows on the rocky floor. He followed the old man as he moved again, careful to stay close as they passed through an arch and plunged into pitch blackness. When they emerged, they were much closer to the light. A few more steps brought them to a small chamber. Adam realized as they entered the room that it must be the man's home. The open area was meagerly furnished with a plain chair and table as well as a rack that held tools and foodstuffs. Beside the rack there was a thick pallet of skins covered with blankets that served as a bed.

The pallet was occupied.

Adam darted across the chamber and knelt beside Joe, noting as he did that his brother's shirt was soaked through with blood on the upper left hand side. Gripping Joe's wrist with his fingers, he called him softly, "Joe."

There was no response.

"The bullet is still in him," the native said.

Adam pivoted sharply to look at him. "You speak English?"

"When I wish to," the Indian replied, his black eyes sparking in the fire's light.

"Why didn't you..." Adam sucked in air. He pursed his lips and then let the breath out slowly. "I'm sorry. Thank you. Thank you for leading me to my brother – twice."

The old man came to stand beside them. "The fiery one," he said, indicating Joe with a nod, "he knows no fear."

Adam snorted. "Yes. Unfortunately, he also knows no sense."

As he unbuttoned Joe's shirt and pulled the cloth away from the shoulder wound, his brother moaned and shifted. Gently Adam probed the bullet hole with his fingers, noting as he did the scar tissue he felt beneath his brother's tanned skin. This was not Little Joe's first shoulder wound. If Joe lived to be an old man, there was going to be hell to pay for his reckless youth in more ways than one. When he finished examining the wound, Adam rocked back on his heels.

"I don't think the bullet's in too deep. The shot came from pretty far away. Still, I need to get it out." Adam rose. He drew his knife from his pocket and then turned back to the native. "Are we safe here? Those men were pretty desperate. They may try to find us."

Adam had crossed to the fire. He knelt beside it and held the knife over the flames, burning off anything impure. The bullet's entry had driven bits of cloth into Joe's wound and he was going to have to clean it before and after he took out the slug. It wasn't going to be pleasant for either of them.

The Indian shook his head. "Nenimkee will stop them."

Nenimkee? Adam thought a moment. The word was as unusual as the old man himself. His manner of dress, his coloring, his accent – none of these things reflected any of the Western tribes he knew. "May I ask who your people are?"

A sadness entered the native's eyes. "There is no one," he said. "Though once, many long moons ago, my people were the Shawanoes."

"Shawanoes? You mean the Shawnee?" If that was the case, the old man was very far from his home. The Shawnee had been driven out of Ohio to Kansas first, and then a portion of the tribe had gone on to Oklahoma. The government was currently working toward an agreement between them and the Cherokee as to the portioning out of reservation land.

"Your word, white man," the native answered, his tone taking on a hard edge for the first time.

Adam had finished cauterizing the knife. "I'm going to need water," he said as he rose, changing the subject.

The Indian stooped and picked up a pottery pitcher. Carrying it, he followed him to Joe's side.

Kneeling by his brother, Adam touched his face and tried again. "Joe? Joe, can you hear me?"

Joe drew a breath, moaned, and then one eye opened. A second later the other followed, and both focused on the knife. "You fixing to cut my throat, big brother?" he asked.

"No. Though I should box your ears. What did you think you were doing, taking on that shooter by yourself?"

Joe's lips curled in a weak smile. "I figured you needed looking after."

"Well, next time, let me look out for myself." Turning to the Indian, he asked, "Do you have something Joe can bite down on?"

The native took a rattle with a long wooden handle from his belt and held it out to him. Adam recognized it as a ceremonial piece. It confirmed what he had thought before, that the Shawnee was most likely a medicine man.

"Thank you," he said as he accepted it and turned back to his brother. Joe was still staring at the knife, wide-eyed. Adam stifled a sigh. Every time he looked at Joe he couldn't help but see the little boy he had picked up and dusted off and set back on his feet a thousand times. It made plunging a hot knife into his flesh a hard thing to do. Locking eyes with him, he said, "This is going to hurt, Joe."

"Just get it over with," his baby brother growled.

Fearless Joe.

Adam looked up at the shaman. "Would you help me hold him down?" As Joe protested feebly he added, "Only ifit becomes necessary. Here, Joe, bite hard on this," he said as he placed the handle of the rattle between his brother's teeth.

It took two agonizing minutes to get the bullet out and then clean the wound. Joe tensed and bucked when the hot knife entered his flesh and then bore it all without a whimper. Of course, a minute and a half into it he passed out.

Blessedly.

Adam dropped the knife and then fell back into a seated position and ran his hands over his face. The old Indian regarded him for a moment before disappearing into the darkness that lined one wall of the chamber. When he returned he was carrying a skin filled with some kind of liquid.

"Here," the man said, holding it out. "Drink."

"What is it?" Adam asked as he accepted.

"Nenimkee's breath," the shaman answered, his face sober.

"Eh?" Adam uncapped the skin and took a whiff – which made him cough. "Whiskey?"

The native's lips curled slightly at the ends. "Your word, white man. Our word – fire water."

Adam snorted. Fire – like a dragon – water. Lifting the skin, he took a swig and then recapped it. As he handed it back to the native, he said, "Thank you."

The shaman said nothing. He glanced at Joe, and then his dark eyes returned to him.

"Is something wrong?" Adam inquired.

The Indian paused. Then he said, "I would meet the man who has such sons."

Adam nodded. "Pa would like that. He'd like to thank you as well for helping us. Once we get out of here, why don't you come to the Ponderosa with us and you can – " He stopped. There had been a noise just without the chamber – a noise something like someone dragging boots over stone. It was accompanied by an odd clicking sound.

Adam's hand went for his gun.

The shaman placed his ancient one over it to stop him. In the firelight, the old man's eyes danced.

"Nenimkee," he said.

At that moment a great shadow eclipsed the entry to the chamber. There was a snort and a hiss.

And then darkness.

SIX

Deirdre Jenkins sat in the oh-so-lovely Great Room of Ben Cartwright's more than lovely home near the fire that was keeping her toasty warm. She held a newspaper she had picked up at the mercantile in her hand. It had another article about the giant bird that had been found dead in the California desert on its front page. It told how the learned men who had come to inspect the carcass thought the bird might be something from before history began – an ancient creature called a Pterodactyl. Or maybe, as one of them suggested, it was proof that the dragons their ancestors believed in were real.

After all, didn't the maps of antiquity warn, 'Here there be dragons'?

Deirdre sighed as she leaned back in the big blue velvet chair, thinking about times long ago. As a little girl she had dreamed of having a daring knight on horseback sweep her away to his castle where he would fight duels for her honor and slay the great wormlike dragons that threatened their kingdom. In Edinburgh and Philadelphia, it seemed such men didn't exist. Deirdre's eyes topped the edge of the paper she was reading and settled on Hoss Cartwright, who was sitting at the dining table cleaning his gun. What she'd missed in the East she had found in the West – men like Hoss and his brothers – men of action and courage who could, at one and the same time, be gentlemen as well.

Real men.

Her eyes still fastened on Hoss' strong form, Deirdre sighed.

"You needin' somethin', Miss Deid?" the big man asked almost immediately.

She liked the way he called her 'Miss Deid'. It made her smile. As she folded the paper in her lap, she replied, "Only your company, Hoss."

"Aw, shucks," Hoss said, and she knew he was blushing. "What you gotta go say somethin' nice like that for?"

Deirdre rose and crossed over to the table, paper in hand. "Because it's true. You are one of the sweetest – if not the sweetest man I have ever met."

This time his ears turned a charming shade of red.

"Well, thank you Miss Deid, but – "

"No, it's true," she said as she slipped into the seat beside him that was usually occupied by Little Joe. Fiona was off pining somewhere over the youngest Cartwright. What her sister saw in that scrawny little thing when she had a strong solid man like Hoss to look at, she had no idea! "Back East, well, men are all manners but no meaning. ...If you take mine..."

His blond eyebrows peaked. "Take your what?"

She giggled. "My 'meaning', silly." Deirdre reached out and touched the big man's arm with her fingers. "Men there like to exercise their minds. Out here, well," she gave him a little squeeze, "everything gets exercised."

The barrel of the gun struck the table. Hoss glanced at her with chagrin and then put the other part down beside it. His clear blue eyes were crisp as the early October morning outside. "Am I mistaken, Miss Deirdre, or are you flirtin' with me?" Hoss asked, a twinkle in those eyes.

She cocked her head, leaned her chin on her hand, and held his gaze. "Oh, I am most definitely flirting."

Hoss rocked back in his chair. "Well, if that don't beat all! You mean you ain't interested in Little Joe or Adam? You're interested in plain old ordinary me?"

She took hold of his hand. "Hoss, there is nothing 'ordinary' about you. When you look at me, I know you see me. Little Joe – don't get me wrong, I like your brother – but he sort of looks at girls. If you know what I mean."

He nodded. "How 'bout big brother?"

She shrugged. "Adam is nice looking, but he reminds me of the men back East. They think too much."

Hoss laughed. "That'd be Adam."

"It's like the story of the three bears," she said coyly. "You're the porridge that's just right."

This time she thought the top might blow off of his head. "Now, Miss Deid, what would your pa say if he knew you was sayin' such things to a man who's practically a stranger?"

"Being 'forward', you mean?" She giggled again. "You should hear Da talk about how he and Mam met. "

Hoss stared at her. He had that look in his eyes a man gets when he wants to kiss you, but doesn't know if you'll kiss him back or slap his face because he tried. Deirdre stared back at him and leaned in. Just as their lips touched they heard the sound of approaching feet. Both of them drew back guiltily. Hoss returned to cleaning his gun. She opened her paper, raised it, and began to read.

"What you read, Missy Deid?" the Cartwright's cook, Hop Sing, asked as he began to clear the table of the remaining dishes. The Chinese man had spent the time since they had finished breakfast packing the picnic basket they would take to the lake with them later in the day.

She laid the paper on the table's checkered cloth. "There's a new article about the winged creature they found in the California desert."

Hop Sing grew suddenly serious. "You mean Mister Hoss' dragon?" he asked, pitching his voice low as if the mythic creature might be listening.

Hoss looked up at him. "You believe in dragons, Hop Sing?"

"Hop Sing believe," the cook nodded, adding gravely, "Hop Sing see one when boy."

The big man was instantly engaged. "You seen a dragon, Hop Sing? Where? How big was it?" Hoss swallowed. "Did it try to eat you?"

"Chiwen did not try to eat me, but he devour other creatures."

"Chigh-when," Hoss repeated. "What'd he look like, Hop Sing?"

"Big. Very big!" Their cook used his hands to illustrate how big, flinging them wide. Then he lifted them to his ears and pulled out as if he ran his fingers along their invisible tips. "Chiwen have pointy ears, sharp paws, and belly of a snake. His harsh voice shake ground like thunder."

Deirdre listened with fascination. "You said you saw this dragon when you were little?"

"Yes, pretty lady, Hop Sing see Chiwen when boy in China." He paused and then went on, as if seeing it again. "Large wind come. Lanterns on house rock from side to side. Suddenly, sky go black as dragon passes over belching fire!"

For a moment neither of them said anything, then Hoss slapped his hand so hard on the table it made her jump. "Dag-blame it! That sounds just like what me and Joe saw out there on the range!"

Hop Sing's black eyes were round as marbles. "You think you see Chiwen?"

"Well, if it weren't him, it was one of his brothers. You got more of them there dragons in China?"

"Many, many. Chiwen, Bixi, Yazi, Suanni, and more. Some friendly. Others fierce." His singsong voice fell to a whisper. "Others deadly."

Hoss' face was screwed up. He was thinking hard. "Look here, Hop Sing, why don't you come along with us and ride out there where Joe and Adam are. You can tell them you done seen one of them dragons. Maybe then, they'll believe there's somethin' out there we gotta find."

"No want to find dragon, Mister Hoss," the Chinese man said solemnly. "Chiwen no want to be found."

"Well, we ain't gonna rope and hogtie him, that's for sure." He thought deeply again. "If you come along, you can tell Chiwen we ain't gonna hurt him. Since you speak his language, I mean." Hoss paused. "Dragons speak Chinese, right?"

Hop Sing was considering it. Deirdre rose and went over to where the cook stood. Reaching out, she touched his arm. "Yes, please come along. We could use your expert advice."

The Chinese man melted. He put his hand over hers. "For Missy Deid, Hop Sing come. But only look for dragon."

Hoss had finished with his gun. He laid it on the tabletop and then rose. Crossing over to Hop Sing, he offered the cook his hand. "That's a deal, Hop Sing. Put her there!"

Hop Sing did. "How soon Mister Hoss want to leave?"

The big man glanced out the window. "Say, about an hour and a half. Joe and Adam are expecting us around noon and it'll take us a good three hours to get there by wagon."

"Hop Sing be ready. Bring much good food," the Chinese man nodded. "Bring special offering for Chiwen so he be happy."

"How 'bout a special offering for me?" Hoss asked, leaning in and making a fierce face. "I can get mighty mean when I'm hungry too."

Hop Sing laughed. "Bring plenty. Fill Chiwen's belly and Mister Hoss'." He shook his head. "Too bad. No food left for Little Joe and Adam."

"That's okay." The big man winked. "Joe's watching his figure and Adam plain lives on books. They'll be enough for the ladies, though?"

"Ladies eat small. Hop Sing have enough."

With that, the Chinese man returned to the kitchen.

"Well, Miss Deirdre," Hoss said, turning toward her. "Better get your huntin' bonnet on. We're off to find us a dragon!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben Cartwright glanced at his old friend while appearing to survey the range of timber he had brought him out to see. Though Gil had said and done nothing to indicate it, he could tell something troubled the other man. It seemed only yesterday that they had served together in the army, but in fact something like thirty years had passed. In the intervening years they had seen each other perhaps a dozen times, and as much as he wanted to think otherwise, they were – in reality – practical strangers. Ben knew from his own life how the years could change a man, sometimes for the better, but often for the worse. Gil had taken Lydia's death hard. He knew as well how difficult it was to lose your life's mate. Still, each time he married he had shared only a few brief beautiful years with the one he had chosen. Gil and Lydia had been married nearly a decade and a half, and their lives had been woven together as the Creator intended.

Who was he to judge what that could do to a man?

Turning toward his friend he said, "You're very quiet."

Gil sighed. "Just considering the course my life has taken."

"Lydia?"

"In part. I ache for her every day." His old friend straightened up and rose from the boulder where he had been sitting. Approaching the edge of the hill they occupied, he went on. "But more than that, the choices I have made – the wise and not so wise ones."

"We all make foolish choices. What's important is that we learn from them."

Gil looked over his shoulder at him. "You mean 'to rectify past blunders is impossible, but we might profit by the experience of them", as a great man once said?"

Ben recognized the quote. It was something George Washington had said to Fielding Lewis during one of the darkest hours of the Rebellion. "Yes. Exactly." He paused and then added, "I know it's none of my business, Gil, but does this have to do with one of the girls?"

Gil looked surprised. "The girls? No. They're the light of this old man's life." He shook his head. "No, this has to do with me. I can't go into it, Ben, but it's part of the reason I left Philadelphia."

"I figured as much," Ben replied with a nod. "Grateful as I am for the chance to visit with you at length, I didn't really think the promise of a few weeks at the Ponderosa would have drawn you and the girls all the way out here."

"It would have been worth it. Ben, the...peace I sense here, the incorruptible beauty..." His friend sighed. "It's enough to heal the soul if not quite enough to rectify those past blunders," he added wryly.

The silver-haired man remained silent a moment before asking. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Gil turned and looked at him. His lips parted as if he might explain, but then he shook his head. "No. I made my bed and will have to lie in it once I return East."

"So you are going back?" He had wondered if his friend might choose to stay in the West where a man, as well as his secrets, could become lost on the wide open range or in the dry desert sands.

"Once Fiona is grown, I might consider returning. Her life – all the girls' lives lay in the city. I can't take that from them."

"I imagine if you asked them, Gil, they would say you are their life."

His old friend raised an eyebrow. "And were your boys to say the same, Ben, would you do something so selfish?"

Ben grew sober. "I already have. The Ponderosa is my dream, but it's their legacy. It binds them here whether they want it to or not."

"You're thinking of Adam, aren't you?"

He looked appalled. "Is it so obvious?"

"That a man of Adam's sensitivities could or should be elsewhere? Yes." Gil crossed over to him and placed at hand on his shoulder. "But that he belongs elsewhere? No, not that. Adam loves you and his brothers. He loves this land. It is just that he is...restless...as you and I were when we were young men." His friend drew in a breath. "It's what drove me to a career in the army and you eventually to one at sea."

What Gil said was true and one day that same restlessness would take Adam far away.

"So, Ben," the Scottish man said as he lifted his hand, "what other part of the great Ponderosa do you want to show me?"

The silver-haired man shook off his fears and replied. "I thought we might surprise the young people and join them for lunch. How does that sound?"

"I'd like to see the lake – and visit Marie's grave, if you don't mind. I have fond memories of her. What a beauty!"

"Yes. And a handful, just like her son," Ben sighed.

Gil grinned. "Come to think of it, I don't remember a single letter from you where Joseph hadn't managed to find himself in some sort of trouble."

Ben laughed. "That's another reason I want to join in on the picnic. If trouble is around, it's sure to find Joe – with Adam running a close second."

"And you sent them out together?"

Ben laughed. "What was that you said about rectifying blunders?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hoss Cartwright leaned heavily on the cane he held and peered into the bed of the wagon before him. "You think you got enough food in that there wagon, Hop Sing?" he asked the Chinese man as he walked toward him carrying yet another basket. "Looks like you got enough there to feed the whole Union army."

"Since when Mister Hoss complain about too much food?" their cook demanded as he placed the basket in the wagon bed. "You no like so much food Hop Sing take it back!"

"Hey, now! I ain't complaining'. Just makin' an observation, you know?"

Hop Sing threw his hands up in the air. "Too much food. Too little food. Too hot. Too cold. Cartwrights always find something to complain about!"

"Now, Hop Sing, you know that ain't true. Ain't we always tellin' you that you're the best dang cook west of the Mississippi?"

The Chinese man looked skeptical. "When you say that?"

"Last night at supper." As Hop Sing shook his head, he said, "Breakfast then. Maybe lunch?" The cook stared him down. "Well, dang it than, I'll say it now!" Hoss leaned his bulk and his cane against the wagon, spread out both arms, and then proclaimed in a voice that could out-shout a Baptist preacher, "Hop Sing is the best dang cook west of the Mississippi!"

His statement was followed by a round of applause.

Hoss turned to find Fiona, Deirdre, and Ainslee Jenkins standing on the porch. The girls were dressed in fancy frilly dresses just right for a picnic. Ainslee's was a rich blue, while Fiona's matched her hair and was cut from a burnt orange fabric. Deirdre wore green.

"Ain't you girls pretty as a speckled pup under a red wagon!" he declared. Turning to the Chinese man he asked, "Hop Sing, you leave any room in the back of the wagon box for this here basket of pretty?"

"Plenty room for ladies. Hop Sing spread blankets in open space, make comfortable for ride."

"Whatever shall we do being escorted by two such gallant gentlemen?" Deirdre asked as she approached the wagon. She crossed over to where he was leaning and looked up at him. "Still, I was hoping I could ride up front with you."

Hoss hoped he wasn't blushing. "With this dag-blamed leg, Miss Deid, Hop Sing's gonna have to drive. I can put some weight on it now, but it ain't healed enough for me to work the brake. Not and be safe."

"I could drive and you could ride in the back with Deirdre," Ainslee suggested with a smile worthy of a matchmaker.

"You ever drive a wagon over the open range before?" Hoss asked, skeptical.

"No. But I have plenty of experience with horses. Riding is not something you do to get around in Scotland, it's a passion. And I drive our carriage frequently in Philadelphia. Trust me, I'll take bumps and pot holes and the occasional slinking snake over wall to wall rigs driven by men on a mission any day."

Hoss studied her for a moment and then smiled. "I'll bet you make 'em part to let you through."

Ainslee laughed. "I certainly do!"

Deirdre looked up at him and batted those long black eyelashes. "Please, Hoss. You need to rest that leg if you are going to have any fun at the picnic."

The big man looked at the wall of women before him and thought there was nothing tougher – not Indians, not outlaws, not even Pa when he was riled – to face down. He turned to the Chinese man who had already climbed into the driver's seat. "What do you think about that, Hop Sing? Would you rather have this ugly mug sitting beside you for the trip or the pretty little lady here?"

"Hop Sing ride with Hoss before. Prefer pretty lady's mug – and company," he answered with a grin.

Hoss frowned and shook his head slowly. "Well, if that don't beat all for the most ungrateful orneriest China man in all of Nevada." He glanced sideways at Deirdre. "I guess you and Fiona will just have to put up with me riding in back with you."

Deirdre laughed as she nodded toward the wagon. Fiona was already seated amidst the myriad of baskets filled with foodstuffs. She leaned on her hand and was looking south. As he watched, the redhead let out a long heartfelt sigh.

He looked at the brunette beside him. "She's got it bad, ain't she?"

"When we Jenkins women set out cap for a man there's no escape," she replied and then waited until he met her eyes.

And blushed again.

"Come on, Miss Deid," the big man said as he caught up his cane and linked his arm with hers. "Let's go see what younger and older brother is up to."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It had rained the night before and, near the lake, everything was mud. As they approached the meeting place they had set with Joe and Adam, the wagon's wheels sunk into a rut and lodged there with the obstinacy of a hibernating bear. Normally Hoss could have pushed, pulled, or raised the wagon out of the muddy channel, but with his injured leg he wasn't worth much and so they were forced to abandon it and make the remaining part of the journey on foot. Each of them grabbed a basket or blanket or both before starting out. He figured his brothers was maybe twenty minutes away. Walking wasn't the easiest thing for him, but the day was turning out to be a pretty one and having a beautiful woman hanging on his arm did a lot to ease his pain. He and Deirdre fell into step just like Hop Sing and Ainslee did. Fiona trailed behind on her lonesome, bedeviling him with a myriad of questions about his baby brother.

Does Little Joe have a sweetheart? Does he like girls with red hair? What does he like in a girl? Does Joe like them sassy or sweet or somewhere in-between?

On and on it went until Hoss was sure Fiona had enough information to write a book on his little brother. The big man was certain it would be a best seller.

With wimmen, of course.

The area around the lake was beautiful with its tall ranging pines and snow-capped mountainscapes, the brilliant water and bright blue sky. He and his brothers had agreed to meet at the rock formation where Adam had found him and Joe since they all knew precisely where that was. Traveling to it brought back painful memories for Hoss – it even set his leg to throbbing – but it wasn't enough to stop him. Besides, he was making new memories.

This time Miss Deirdre was with him.

Ainslee halted and placed her basket on the ground. "Is this the right place?" she asked.

There was a high rock tower before him. Hoss scrutinized it and then nodded. "Looks like it. You see Adam or Little Joe?"

Hop Sing frowned. "No see Mister Joe or Mister Adam. You sure this where you tell them to meet us?"

Hoss pointed. "You see that there stack of boulders? That's it." He looked around. The rolling land around them was silent and empty. He removed his hat and scratched his head. "I wonder where those two are?"

"Maybe go find cattle. Lose track of time," the Chinese man suggested hopefully.

"Maybe."

After telling the girls to stay put, and Hop Sing to keep watch over them, Hoss moved haltingly forward, counting on the cane to help him navigate the uneven land. It wasn't thirty seconds later that Deirdre was at his side, offering her hand.

"You oughta go back, Miss Deid," the big man said. "If there's trouble, I want you where it's safe."

"AndI want you to come back. If there's trouble, you may need help," she said stubbornly.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I ain't expectin' no trouble. Those two probably just lost track of time like Hop Sing said."

The brunette met his gaze and held it. "You're a very bad liar."

He thought to counter that, but shrugged instead. "Pa always said he liked me best 'cause I couldn't get by with nothin'," he laughed.

"You're too good a man to be a good liar," she said, still staring at him. "Hoss..."

"Yes'm?"

Deirdre drew a breath and let it out very slowly as her blue eyes went wide. "I know it's not the place or the time and you're worried about your brothers," she said softly, "but..."

Rising up on tiptoe, she kissed him.

Hop Sing's voice parted them. "Mister Hoss find anything?" the Chinese man asked as he came into view.

Hoss blushed up to his eyebrows, deeply chagrinned. Here his brothers could be in a passel of trouble and he was spooning.

"Still lookin', Hop Sing," he replied. "I'll let you know in a minute." Turning to Deirdre – still stunned that a beauty like her would be interested in a plain old ordinary lummox like him – he said, "Miss Deirdre, you're a mighty fine woman and I'm pleased as punch you like me, but –"

"You need to look for your brothers." She smiled. "You're putting their welfare before your own. That just makes me love you more."

"Love?" he asked, not stunned but stupefied this time.

The brunette nodded. Then, taking his hand, she said, "Let's go look for Joe and Adam."

It took them about three minutes to find a sign – and it wasn't good. Hoss heard a noise as they circled left of the rocks. It didn't take him long to realize that it was a horse neighing in the way they did when they were looking for other horses or people. He and Deirdre followed the sound and found Joe's Paint tethered to a tree. Not far away chowing down in a clump of tall grasses was Adam's reddish brown thoroughbred, Sport. Both horses were skittish, though they calmed when he spoke to them.

"What does it mean?" Deirdre asked.

"It means Joe and Adam made camp here like they said," he replied as he walked forward, searching the ground for more clues.

She frowned. "But there's nothing else. No bedrolls or campfire. That means they didn't sleep here... Doesn't it?"

Hoss was afraid that was exactly what it meant. Something must have come up unexpectedly that had drawn his brothers away. Leaning on his cane for support, Hoss began to move out in an ever-widening circle. When he reached the back of the tower of rocks, he stopped dead. He turned and reached out for Deirdre, hoping to keep her from seeing what lay behind it, but it was too late. She saw it and screamed.

Bringing Hop Sing, Fiona, and Ainslee running.

"What is it?" Ainslee asked, breathless.

"Is it Joe?" Fiona inquired.

"You find Mister Adam or Mister Joe?" Hop Sing queried, fear rattling his voice.

Deirdre was in his arms and she was shaking. He held her tight as he replied.

"It ain't Joe or Adam," the big man said. "But whoever it is, he's dead."