The way Hoss and Joe explained it, they had been on their way to Dewton when the whiteout hit. They'd been lucky to stumble onto the Kailen-Tanner place. Peculiarly, they actually didn't know where they were. The only names they had heard were Laura and Jeffrey. Introductions had never been exchanged between them and Clint Tanner. By the time the excitement of the birth had passed, any shred of formality had dissipated. They'd become so immediately and so deeply entwined with the lives of the two people they'd met and the baby they'd helped bring into the world that they just didn't even think of giving their names or asking Clint for his.
After the initial greeting and reassurance that they were all healthy and well, they had retreated into the house to continue trying to untangle just what had happened to who.
"Hoss has spent most of his time doing whatever needs to be done for Laura," Joe explained, "And I've been out with the horses. Handling those colts is a full-time job in itself, they're so wild."
"And it didn't occur to either of you that you should get to Dewton as quickly as possible?" Ben asked.
"Sure it did, Pa," Hoss answered, "But seein' as Miss Laura needed our help, especially with keepin' Mr. Tanner calm... it didn't seem right to leave."
"And... and that first day the whiteout was so bad," Joe put in, "We could barely find our way to the barn, forget making it all the way to town. I meant to ride in to town today, but I sort of got involved with the horses and time got away from me... and then it was... was getting dark and I figured..." he trailed off, swallowing uneasily.
Ben sighed, "I don't suppose I can be upset with you for prioritizing the needs of a new baby and his family over your own problems. I could have done without the worry though."
Joe and Hoss looked sheepish, but hardly ashamed of themselves. How could they be? Ben had raised his boys to care about other people, and to do for others without thought for themselves. Besides which, he was sure that they had made a choice in their own minds. Ben was a grown man, well able to defend himself. But babies were fragile and vulnerable. It was critical to keep them warm and fed and safe. That was all the mother's job usually, but taking care of a baby's mother was just as important. So many women died not only in childbirth, but shortly afterward. And so many babies didn't make it through the first few weeks of their lives. Winter made those first weeks all the more dangerous, not only because of the cold, but because of the potential lean times that the cold and snow usually caused.
Even though the horses seemed trivial, the fact was that they would be essential if it was necessary to move mother and child into town for some reason. Without needing to be told, Joe and Hoss had also assessed that this was a horse ranch. The horses were the family's future. If they grew sick, ill-cared for or even died, that would make life all the harder for the new family.
Ben knew his boys understood all of this, and had made their decision accordingly.
"Pa..." Joe spoke hesitantly, as though afraid to ask, "You haven't seen Candy, have you?"
"No, I haven't," Ben replied, "I thought he was with you."
Joe and Hoss exchanged worried looks, and Hoss said, "We ain't seen him since we got arrested in Elodie."
"They were trying to kill him," Joe told him, "He was shot."
"One of them Elodie deputies told us he'd made it to Dewton. He sent men out to bring Candy back," Hoss continued, then allowed Joe to finish.
"He told them not to kill Candy, but he didn't expect them to listen to him."
"Sheriff Walker in Dewton mentioned three Elodie deputies," Ben said, "One of whom is dead now. He didn't say anything about ever having seen Candy. How badly was he injured?"
Joe shook his head miserably, "I don't know. Pa, we've got to find him."
Steve Williams came in just in time to hear the last and asked, "Find who?"
"Candy," Ben replied, "He works for me. He was with Hoss and Joe when they were caught. He got away, but was shot, we don't know how badly."
"Candy?" Steve spoke the name questioningly, "That wouldn't happen to be short for Canaday, would it?"
Ben opened his mouth to say that it was, then paused. Actually, he'd never been sure whether Candy was short for Canaday, or if one was his first name and the other his last. Candy had never volunteered an explanation, and Ben had honestly never asked. For over a year, he had known Candy only as that, it had actually been pure happenstance that he'd ever learned the name Canaday at all.
Joe was quicker on the uptake, "You know where he is?"
Steve seemed to hesitate for a moment, then looked up as Clint Tanner returned to the living room from the bedroom where Laura and the infant were.
"They're both sleeping," Clint said, in response to the inquiring glances of Joe and Hoss.
With the weariness common to all new fathers, Clint sank into a chair with a heavy sigh.
"I've got some soup fixed," Hoss told him, "You want some?"
Clint had closed his eyes when he sat down, but he opened them when he said, "Sure. Thanks."
Hoss glanced at Steve, wanting to hear the answer to Joe's question, but bound by the imperative he and Joe had put at the top of their list, that is taking care of the baby and his family. That included Clint, who seemed bound and determined to exhaust himself with fretting.
Steve decided to take a seat and waited for Hoss to get back before answering the question. He had to step over the prone form of the dusky dog lying on the hearth rug to get to the only unoccupied seat in the room. The dog -lying on his side with his back to the fire- didn't even stir, except to snore a little.
When Hoss returned, he gave the bowl of soup to Clint, then resumed his seat. After a moment of watching Clint test the heat of the soup and nod his appreciation to Hoss, Steve finally answered.
"Yes, I know where Canaday is," Steve said, "Unless he's up and walked away; and somehow I doubt he'll be doin' anything like that for awhile. On the other hand, it was him that killed the Elodie deputy, and I would've bet money that was impossible, given the circumstances."
"Candy did that?" Clint's inquiry startled the Cartwrights; they had been unaware that he'd met Candy.
"Saved Hank's life," Steve confirmed with a nod, "Though I'd never have believed how he got out of a locked cell if I hadn't seen the evidence myself... frankly, I still don't believe it."
"Remember what I said about taking this story from the top?" Clint asked, and when Steve nodded, he said, "Now that goes double. Begin at the beginning."
"Well, for me the story started when Hank came into the bar and poured a bucket of water over our - that's my brother Jake and me – heads and told us we had work to do..." Steve began.
Gradually, Steve's story began to fill in the gaps. It rapidly became clear that, though Candy had never made it to the telegraph office to send a warning to Ben, he was single-handedly responsible for Sheriff Hank Walker's getting involved. When Steve got to the part with Hank sending a message to the Elodie sheriff, Joe broke in and filled in what he knew, then fell silent while Steve recounted the shootout, during which Candy had somehow escaped a locked cell and shot one of the Elodie deputies dead.
"Now," Steve concluded, "How is it that you're so interested in him, Clint?"
"Before he made it to Dewton, he was here," Clint explained, "He'd fallen off his horse near the barn. We brought him in, and Laura patched him up as best she could. She also insisted I lie to the Elodie deputies that came by looking for him. When he regained consciousness, he had only one thing on his mind: getting to a telegraph office so he could warn Mr. Cartwright. I couldn't leave Laura, but I lent him the red dun mare. He could barely sit a horse, but he insisted on going," he shook his head, "I've never seen such devotion in a hired hand before."
The Cartwrights all exchanged significant glances. They knew Candy was much more than that. He was their friend, and he'd stood by them through good times and bad, and this wasn't the first blood he'd shed on their behalf, nor was it the first time he'd risked his life for theirs.
It must have been unimaginably tempting to stay at the Kailen-Tanner ranch, where it was warm, where a woman had cared for his wound, and a man had lied to protect him from the men of Elodie. To stay where it was comfortable and safe, instead of going out into the cold winter on his own, all just to give the Cartwrights a chance of survival. Not even a guarantee... only a chance, which was the most he could offer. It seemed like so little to be willing to give his life for, even though he had ultimately never sent the message. Truthfully, he'd accomplished something far greater.
Had Candy not gone to Sheriff Walker, there would have been no message sent to Elodie. The three deputies then-Deputy Mayer had sent out would have stayed in town. Would Mayer have risked trying to release Joe and Hoss? Probably not. Even if he had, there was almost no chance they would have escaped, and probably shot while trying to escape. Sheriff Walker would not have known to go and talk to Ben, who would in turn not have had any idea where his boys were. Very probably he would have been forced to give over the money, and then would have been killed himself. Candy might have failed utterly in his mission to send a telegraph, but he'd nonetheless succeeded in his ultimate goal: that of keeping the Cartwrights alive.
Before any of them could figure out how to adequately express what they immediately understood, the dog suddenly sprang to his feet with a sound that was akin to a wail, and went racing in the direction of the bedroom, wailing at every step.
"Stop him!" Clint shouted, lunging to his feet and chasing after the dog, thinking the animal was after the baby. Dogs had been known to attack and kill infants, particularly strange dogs who looked a heckuva lot like wolves.
Everyone else was less than a beat behind him. The bedroom door was closed, but not latched, and the dog slammed into it without breaking stride. In an instant, he was at the side of the bed, baying.
By the time the men reached the room, Laura had been awakened, and they saw that the dog hadn't come in to harm the baby, but to warn that he was in danger. Those that could fit had come into the room, the others stood in the door. It was clear that the baby had stopped breathing. Laura had been wakened by the dog, and now sat up in bed, urgently providing first aid with expert hands.
She paid no attention at all to the intruders. She had the baby carefully laid face-down along one of her arms, and appeared to be striking his back for reasons most of them couldn't figure. But she was shaking. Sleep had fogged her mind and tears now clouded her eyes, and she couldn't do it right.
Ben, shoving through the crowd, made his way to the bed and said, "Let me. I know how."
He didn't wait for Laura to give her assent, merely lifted the infant. He positioned the baby as Laura had done, and went through the motions she'd been going through, only with more precision. After he'd done it three times, the baby suddenly coughed, then began to cry. Before turning him over, Ben removed the obstruction he had coughed up. Then he returned the baby to the waiting arms of his grateful mother.
The dog had been utterly silent and motionless since the operation had begun, but now it let out a single, gleeful sounding bark and its tail began to wag ecstatically.
"My God," Clint breathed, and then all but fell upon the dog, expressing his gratitude to the animal by hugging it and petting it, though it seemed to be less than enthused by his display, "Good dog."
Laura looked at the dog, then up at Ben and said, "Thank you. Thank you both."
"Clint said you boys were heaven sent," Steve remarked from where he stood in the doorway, "If you two hadn't been here, neither would we."
"If not for Candy," Joe said, "We wouldn't have been here either."
The dog, for its part, simply sat next to the bed and stretched its nose forward to sniff the baby, its tail sweeping the floor in wide, fast arcs.
"I just hope things calm down now," Clint said, "I prefer miracles to tragedies... but frankly I'm not sure I can take any more of either right now."
Laura, seemingly fully recovered from the narrowly averted tragedy, looked with love at her man and calmly said, "If the good Lord wills it, it will be so."
"Of course, Miss Laura," Clint replied, "Of course."
The others took that as their cue to leave the room. Well, all except the dog, who seemed glued to the bedside. Apparently it felt that its heroics had earned it a place in the room. It wasn't wrong. In fact, after a moment of deliberation, Laura actually patted the bed, inviting the dog up onto it. With exaggerated care, the dog gently climbed up onto the bed, one careful paw at a time.
Then, with a happy sigh, the animal lay down with is body pressed against Laura's legs, its head in her lap, positioned so that its nose was near to the baby, who at first continued to cry, but then finally settled down while its mother sang to it. Clint did not leave the room again for some time.