The dusk was turning to darkness in Nevada as the Cartwrights and their top hand, Candy, headed home from Virginia City. They had gotten a lot accomplished today and had gone into town to celebrate with a drink at the saloon. They had an air of contentment about them as they talked softly amongst themselves, the boys cracking jokes at one another.
Candy was looking ahead when he saw a dark figure lying on the side of the road ahead. His smile quickly fading away. He called his horse to a stop, everyone following suit wondering what he was looking at. Candy slid off his horse, Ben and Joe following suit as they went to investigate.
"It's a woman!" Candy exclaimed, getting to her first. He gently rolled her over, taking care as she was in an unconscious state. Rolling her onto her back he observed a damp crimson stain across her shoulder. "She's been shot!"
"We have to get her to the Ponderosa quick!" Ben order, taking charge quickly. "Adam, ride back to town and get Doc Martin."
"Yes sir," Adam said, quickly riding away with all due urgency.
"I'll take her on my horse, Pa," Joe volunteered. Ben nodded his agreement. Joe was the best horseman around, he and Cochise would get the woman to the Ponderosa with the least amount of discomfort possible when riding double on horseback.
As the woman was carefully lifted onto Cochise, Ben glanced back at the spot where the woman had been laying. He noticed an object lying over there. He went to pick it up, it was her pocketbook. Ben decided he would look through it later to see if he could find any identifying documents so that he could have Sheriff Coffee locate and notify her kin.
As they rode back to the Ponderosa, Joe took great care to ride as smoothly as possible so as to not jostle the woman, though a faint moan would escape through her lips from time to time.
Now they continued on their journey home, a cloud of worry hanging above them. Who was this stranger? Where did she come from? How did she end up in this state? Whoever she was, she needed help fast.
Finally, they arrived at the Ponderosa. Candy helped get the woman off Little Joe's horse and carried her into the house, setting her down on the couch. The woman groaned, opening her eyes ever so slightly as she came to.
Candy gently held her hand, "you're going to be alright," he said soothingly.
"Can you tell us your name?" Ben asked.
"Eleanor," she barely whispered, closing her eyes tightly as the pain in her shoulder intensified.
Ben quirked up an eyebrow but left it at that, knowing the woman needed rest. He would search through her pocketbook later for anything that might further identify this woman. Ben studied the woman's face as the minutes crept by while they waited for Adam to return with the doctor. Eleanor had a vaguely familiar look to her. But it was just a coincidence that this woman shared the same name as his daughter who had died 20 years prior. Right?
Finally, hoofbeats were heard in the yard and Adam came in with Doc Martin.
"She's over here on the couch Doc," Ben said, ushering the doctor in. "We found her on the side of the road."
"Adam mentioned that," Doc said, kneeling beside the woman and cutting away the shirt she was wearing so he could inspect her wound. "I've never seen her around, I wonder why someone would want to kill her."
The room fell silent as Doc looked the woman over. He had Hop Sing boil some water to sterilize his instruments, he was going to have to extract the bullet. As he prepared to do so, Eleanor regained consciousness. She wearily looked around at all the faces she didn't recognize, too weak to move, not desiring to talk, only managing to get out a groan.
"Try not to move, miss," Doc said gently. "I'm Doctor Martin, I'll get that bullet out of you soon." Doc Martin reached back in his medical bag, pulling out the bottle of ether, knowing that it would now be necessary to use it since the patient was conscious. "Ben."
Ben came beside the couch. From the many experiences with his sons having been shot, he knew that now his duty was to hold the ether mask over Eleanor's nose and mouth. "Breathe deeply, Eleanor."
Eleanor nodded slightly, breathing in the anesthetic until she slipped into unconsciousness. Doc Martin quickly extracted the bullet and cleaned the wound, stitching it up afterwards.
"She should be alright, Ben," Doc Martin concluded. "Don't hesitate to get me if her condition worsens. I'll come back tomorrow to check on her and change her bandages." With that, Doc Martin left. The Cartwrights feeling relieved that the woman was now on the road to recovery.
"We've got the guest bedroom ready for her," Adam said. "We figured she needed a more private area."
Ben gently lifted the woman off the couch and carried her into the guest bedroom, located beside the dining area. It was a good spot for her, where people could easily check in on her. Ben sat with her through the night, keeping an eye on her. He used this time to check her pocketbook.
The contents of Eleanor's pocketbook were far from numerous. There was a small amount of money and an old piece of paper that would be easily missed if it were folded any smaller. Ben unfolded the paper, raising his eyebrows as he discovered that it was in essence a birth record, scrawled out in handwriting that was once familiar to him. It read: Eleanor Mahala Cartwright. Born to Helena and Benjamin Cartwright.
Ben read it several times over, his hands shaking. His eyes had to be deceiving him. His daughter had died 20 years ago with her mother, Helena, his fourth wife, or that's what the charred bones in the rubble of his old burned out house had lead him to believe. He'd known it was arson, though the arsonist was never caught. He didn't know that it was also a thought out kidnapping.
Ben studied Eleanor's face. He had to admit, she did have resemblance to her mother, thus the vague familiarity. A wave of emotions hit him, guilt winning out over all of them. She hadn't died in the fire. He'd let down his very own daughter the moment he'd concluded her to be dead.