"I can't let him get away, Mother, not after what he did to Paul." Heath punched his fist into his other hand while his mother laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I know, Heath, but let the law handle it. We know he killed Paul, and if he gets a fair trial the judge will see that too." Shaking his head, Heath said,

"I've heard of too many murderers getting off free and clear thanks to a smart lawyer. I can't take the chance that it would happen to Jesse Jones." Victoria grabbed Heath's arm and made him turn to face her.

"Heath, don't say things like that! I know you were close to Paul. We all liked him. But if you go after Jesse then you become the same thing that he is, a murderer." But Heath had already turned away and grabbed his gun belt. He strapped it on and said,

"I'm sorry, Mother, but this is the way it has to be."

"Heath, don't!" she cried to his back as he walked out the door, but he was already on his horse and riding away.

Riding fast and hard, the wanted man kept looking behind to make sure he wasn't being followed. While he had known that there would be people looking for him, he hadn't realized there would be so many, and that they would find him so quickly. He had thought that joining a wagon train would help to hide his tracks for a little while, but it looked like his luck had run out.

Even as he was riding, he thought about all that had happened in the last few months. It seemed like yesterday when he was living happily on the ranch, not having a care in the world. But just like that, a man from his shadowy past had reappeared and thrown his world into chaos. There was nothing he could do but leave the ranch for fear that he would endanger everyone living there. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye. Then he had taken the name of Jesse Jones, just in case what he knew was coming turned into something more than he could handle. And sure enough, it had. He followed Paul Strothers to a ranch in California. He had only meant it to be a warning to Paul to leave him alone, but between name-calling and threats, Strothers had worked Jess up into a fit of anger and made him pull his gun. And Paul had been no match for his quick draw. When everything was over and the smoke had finally settled, Paul was dead. One of the owners of the ranch had seen the whole thing and called it murder, sending him on the run. First he landed at a ranch in North Fork, New Mexico, where he laid low for a while, but when he began to feel like he was being recognized, he moved on to Texas. There he joined a cattle drive and helped move the cattle to the next town. Now, even joining a wagon train had not helped him get away, and here he was, somehow back in the same area where all of his troubles had come to a head.

While all of these memories were rolling around in his head, he approached a fork in the road. The left fork pointed toward Carson City, and the right fork pointed towards Reno. Without hesitation he took the left fork. He was ready to get this matter over and done with, whatever that held in store, and going through Carson City would take him straight to Stockton and the ranch that Paul had worked on. Anything, even being shot or hung, was better than living on the run. Now that he had learned what it was like to settle down and have a peaceful life, he couldn't stand this kind of life anymore.

He was still several miles from Carson City when he saw three riders approaching. He immediately felt for his gun, since he could never be sure if it was someone searching for him. As they came closer, he saw that two of them were of average size, with dark hair, and rather favoring each other, while the other was quite large and looked nothing like the other two. He stayed on his guard as they reined up next to him.

"Howdy!" said the big man. "What brings a fella like you to this area?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," he said tersely. One of the dark-headed men, the one who looked like the youngest, said,

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we aren't trying to cause any trouble! It's just that you're riding on private property, our private property."

"I didn't see any signs." The third man who hadn't said anything yet answered,

"We don't have to put up signs, Mister. Everyone around here knows the Ponderosa is owned by the Cartwrights." Getting impatient, the wanted man said,

"Yeah, well, I'm not from around here and I don't know any Cartwrights." The big man apparently wanted to be friendly in spite of Jess's sullen tone and said,

"Well, I reckon we oughta start off with introductions, then. I'm Hoss Cartwright, and these are my brothers, Adam and Little Joe." The wanted man nodded at them, and after a brief pause he decided to make a bold move and test the response of the men.

"I'm Jesse Jones, on my way to Carson City." He didn't see any hint of recognition on any of the men's faces and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nice to meet you, Jesse," said Little Joe with a smile. "Say, you're heading to Carson City? Our ranch is on the way - Why don't you stop by for supper, and then you can be on your way in the morning?" He was touched by the offer of hospitality, so quickly given when he was still a complete stranger to them. Even as he opened his mouth to refuse the offer, the open friendliness they all had shown him kept him from being able to refuse, and with a brief smile he said,

"That's a right friendly offer. Oh, all right, why not?"

"Come on!" cried Hoss as they all turned to ride to the ranch.

Reno was bustling when the trail boss and his ramrod and the bounty hunter rode in. Three more men in the midst of that crowd didn't arrest anyone's attention. Looking around him, Josh muttered,

"It may take some doing to find Jones."

"Yeah, you might have to actually work for your precious bounty money," snarled Rowdy.

"Rowdy, that's enough!" barked Gil at his fiery ramrod. Josh said nothing, while Rowdy stared across at him with sullen eyes, even as all three dismounted and tied their horses in front of the saloon. Josh walked on in, but Gil grabbed Rowdy's arm. "Listen, Boy, you better get a hold of that temper of yours. There's no need to go picking a fight with every bounty hunter you run across. They're people, just like us, and you might find that some of them are pretty decent if you treat them right." Rowdy shrugged his boss's hand off of his arm and walked into the saloon without saying anything. Gil stood still long enough to shake his head slowly, then followed along behind.

"Hoss, Adam, Little Joe, nice to see you boys," said their father as they all rode up. "I was beginning to wonder if I needed to hire some men from town to do the chores around here." Then he turned to the young man that was riding with them. "Who's your friend here?" The wanted man had just dismounted and he stuck out his hand with a smile.

"The name's Jesse Jones. Your sons were kind enough to invite me to supper." Ben grasped his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jesse. I'll have Hop Sing put on an extra plate for you. Come on in the house." The wanted man felt an ache inside as the warmth and familial ties of this ranch reminded him of his own home. What was everyone back there doing right now? Were they worried about him, or had they moved on and forgotten about him? He shook off these thoughts and put on a smile as he followed the Cartwrights inside.

After they had finished the spectacular meal and pushed back from the table, Ben encouraged them to move to the sitting area. Each man found a spot.

"Pa, you need to tell Hop Sing to start working an hour earlier tomorrow," said Hoss. "I could have eaten two more helpings of that stew." Hop Sing was in the dining room cleaning the table, but he stopped what he was doing and came towards the big man.

"Hop Sing work hard, but big Hoss still say he not work hard enough. Hop Sing quit one day, you see, and then you say he not work hard enough!" With a defiant toss of his head he went back to his cleaning while all of the men laughed.

Just then a knock came on the door. They all rose from their seats and Little Joe went to the door. Upon opening it he revealed two men and a boy, looking travel-worn and extremely weary.

"What can we do for you?" he asked warily. One of the men, the one dressed all in black, answered,

"We were wondering if we could possibly trespass on your hospitality. We've been on the trail for weeks now, and when we saw your ranch we all began to think about how nice a warm bed and a hot meal would sound." Ben approached at this point, and said gently but firmly,

"You are more than welcome to a hot meal, but any more than that will have to wait until we find out a little more about you and what you're doing here."

"We thank you for your hospitality," said the other man. "My name's Lucas McCain, and this is my son Mark."

"Hello," said the boy.

"And my name is Paladin," added the man in black.

"I'm Ben Cartwright, and these are my boys Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe." They all nodded in succession. "What keeps you three on the trail so long? You said you've been out for weeks?" Paladin sighed.

"I'm a hired gun, and we're on our way to Reno, looking for a man called Jesse Jones."

"Jesse Jones?" repeated Adam in surprise. All of them turned to look at the sitting room, and it was only then that they realized the wanted man was gone.