A Note of Thanks

By Ella

Author's note: Thank you, Kathryn, for checking this work for those pesky typos that always seem to elude me. Thanks, also, for gently insisting I write this story.

Leaning against the porch upright, Ben Cartwright absently traced the rim of his cup, his eyes following Adam as he steered their wagon out of the barn. His eldest son's sharp movements reinforced the tone of the morning and Ben pushed off the post as he considered stopping him. He sipped his coffee instead, then turned a sour look at his cup before pitching the cold drink out over the grass.

His head shot up when Adam slapped the reins three times in succession to move the team out of the yard faster than necessary. Ben muttered to the air, "Should have sent Hoss, I suppose, but maybe the ride will clear his head. It sure better do something to improve his mood." A soft step behind him brought him about-face. "Oh, Hop Sing. Fresh coffee. Thank you."

The young man inclined his head slightly as he smiled. "You have long night and rough morning. Perhaps coffee help a little."

Ben inhaled the welcomed aroma as he watched the black brew spill from the spout. "It will help a lot, believe me." He stared out again across the yard, but the wagon had been swallowed by the tree line. He pointed with a sharp lift of his chin. "Wish you could find something to get him to change his frame of mind, or at the very least, loosen his tongue so he'll tell me what's troubling him."

The cook smiled sympathetically. "He hard nut to crack."

Ben chuckled. "Yes, Hop Sing, he is. He is." The laughter left his eyes as he studied his friend. "How did you know I had a long night?"

"Hop Sing have ears, just like younger sons have. They hear Adam get out of bed and go outside. They hear you get up and prowl around the house."

"Hop Sing? When exactly did his mood change? What might have caused it? He hasn't been to town in a week or visited any neighbors. I've asked his brothers. They say they've had no arguments with him recently. Then, just like that, he's snapping at everyone." He drained his cup, then stared back into dark eyes. "Can you shed any light on this for me?"

"Mood change yesterday morning while you and boys away fishing. I go out to tend garden. I return, Adam angry. When I ask why, he would not say. I do not ask question like that more than one time. It is waste of energy."

Ben blew out a sigh. "Well, it sure is with that one, all right." He shook his head. "Surely he can't be angry because we went fishing Sunday without him? After all, Little Joe asked him several times and Adam said he wanted to stay home and read." He scratched his head. "And as far as I know, he was finishing his book, so it's not as if something in the newspaper could have upset him." Running a hand over his eyes, Ben shook his head again. "I'll just have to wait and see." He looked at the cook. "It's one of the hardest jobs a father has, Hop Sing."

Hop Sing nodded, smiling kindly, then refilled Ben's cup.

*****

Adam slowed the team soon after he got beyond view of the ranch house. "It's not right to take it out on you two." He pulled the horses to a dead stop. "Or to take it out on Pa and my brothers. I wish I could talk to Pa about it, but I've done a good job of making that near impossible. It's my problem now. I'll have to find a way to solve it." He flicked the reins lightly. "Walk on." Luckily, the horses knew their way to town, for their driver seemed lost behind them.

Indeed, Adam stayed lost in a daze, until Shelby Sterrett yelled, "Hey, watch where you're goin', will ya! Tarnation, I ain't been that close ta gittin' ran over since -" She gawked at the silent young man. "Hey, Adam, ain't ya even gonna say yer sorry? What's ailin' you anyhow?"

"What?" Eyes darting all around him, Adam pulled off his hat, to push his long fingers through his hair. He stared down at the offended saloon owner. "Shelby ... I'm ... I'm sorry. Did they step on you?"

Shelby snorted out at laugh and waved her hand through the air. "Nah."

"I'm really sorry." Adam rubbed his hand across his mouth, looking around in disbelief. "I didn't even realize I was in town - "

Shelby made a grab for her cigar as it dropped from her gaping mouth. "Didn't realize you were in town? Boy, you've either had too much ta drink, or ya need one. Which is it?"

Adam shook his head, sighing. "Neither, Shelby, thanks. What I need is to get the list of supplies Pa sent me in for, then ...." He pushed his fingers through his hair once more as he gazed down the road, at nothing in particular. When the saloon owner cleared her throat, Adam jumped slightly, then replaced his hat. Touching the brim, he managed a half-smile. "Next time I come to town, I promise I'll watch where I'm going. See you later."

Shelby scowled. "Yeah, you do that. See ya." As the buckboard moved away, she shook her head, worry creeping over her face as Adam drifted all over the road toward the Trading Post.

Ruth Orwitz glanced up from the counter, giving Adam a warm smile as he entered. "Good day, Adam. How are you this fine morning?"

Adam looked over his shoulder to study the sky. He shrugged his shoulders. "I hadn't realized the sun was out today. It has been awhile, hasn't it?"

The two storekeepers glanced at each other, concern traveling between them. Eli bobbed his head once, in answer to Ruth's slight tip of the head in young Cartwright's direction. The man faced him, smiling gently. "Adam? Everything all right back at the ranch? Everybody is in good health?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Orwitz, everyone is fine, thank you." Adam handed over his list. "My father asked if you could put these on his account until he comes in next week?"

"Yes, of course." Eli scanned the items. "We can have all this ready for you in a few minutes."

Tugging off his black leather gloves, Adam waved off the urgency. "I'm in no hurry, sir. I'd like to look over the new - " His attention shifted to the opposite side of the store. He stared forward, entranced.

"Adam?"

Adam shook himself as if to cast off a spell, then gestured toward a small table across the room. "When ... when did you get that in here? Was it ordered for someone special?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked slowly toward it. He swayed slightly, as though suddenly woozy.

Eli rushed forward to grab his elbow. "Adam? Adam, are you all right?" Ruth hurried to his other side.

"I'm fine, Mr. Orwitz. Please, sir ... When ... tell me, when did you get that guitar?"

Eli waved the air. "Oh, that. A man was here yesterday, on his way through with a wagon train. He had no money and nothing else to trade. Poor fellow. He and his wife had a little boy, maybe five-years-old. Not enough meat on his bones, I thought. We took the guitar because it seemed the right thing to do." He frowned, "Alas, the child seemed heartbroken at the idea of his father leaving the instrument here, but they needed quite a bit in supplies and the man insisted on paying the only way he could."

At Adam's dismayed expression, Ruth interjected, "But the little boy was mighty happy when I gave him a stick of candy and his mother promised him corn fritters for his dinner."

"Five-years-old, you say?" Adam repeated, distractedly. Reluctantly, he turned away from the instrument, long enough to ask, "Are they ... Are they still in town or did they move on already?" Again, Eli and Ruth traded looks, concern rising in their eyes and creasing their foreheads. With an edge to his voice, Adam persisted, "Mr. Orwitz? Are they still in town?"

"Honestly, Adam, I don't know. Frenchy or perhaps Big Dan could tell you. Or you could go down to the field yourself and see if their wagon is parked there. I believe their name is Henderson." He glanced toward the ceiling, putting a finger to his chin. "Or was it Hamilton?" Eli looked to his wife. "Ruth?"

"It was Henderson, Eli, I'm sure of it. But, Adam, why do you want to find these people? The guitar is no longer theirs. They traded it ..." She dropped her voice, "... for much more than it was worth in goods." She slipped her arm through her husband's, her face softening as she gazed up at him. "My Eli has a big heart."

Eli patted Ruth's arm, then rationalized to Adam, "It was the little boy's face. He had big dark eyes and they swam with tears when his father handed me the guitar."

Adam nodded, "Yes, I can understand that." His face hardened, to the surprise of the older people. "It's not easy giving up things you love, but sometimes it's the only option." With one final look at the guitar, Adam gave a sharp nod, before looking Eli square in the eye. "How much do you want for it, Mr. Orwitz?"

Befuddled, Eli glanced at Ruth, then back at the young man. "You ... You wish to purchase it, Adam?"

"That's right. Or, if you're asking too much, I'll work off the price, if that's agreeable?"

Eli nodded slowly. "Yes, but of course, I'm certain we can come to some sort of agreement."

Adam smiled, his first real smile since Sunday. "Thank you." His mind seemed to be racing, his eyes shifting back and forth as he tugged on his gloves. "Please, can you keep it somewhere safe for me? I need to run an errand while I'm waiting for those supplies. Will that be all right?"

Ruth reached out to pat his arm. "Of course it will. You run along. I'll put the guitar away and assemble your goods while you're gone." Adam looked unsure. "Go on, Adam, come back when you're ready to head home."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you. Thank you both." He turned to go, then spun around again, keeping his voice low. "Mr. Orwitz? Mrs. Orwitz? Please don't say anything about this. Um, not even to my family. I ... well, it's sort of a surprise, you might say."

The Orwitz's studied each other then shared a nod. Eli answered, "Very well, Adam, we will honor your wish."

"Thank you." He turned again and strode out, walking briskly in the direction of the field on the edge of town where Big Dan always directed incoming travelers.

Though he'd considered asking the men Ruth suggested, Adam decided the fewer people involved, the better. Reaching his destination, he stopped at the wagon nearest to the road, and spoke to a woman bent over a big, black, boiling pot. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

Pushing straggly stands of blond hair back under her bonnet, the woman straightened. "Yes?"

Adam touched the brim of his hat. "I ... I was wondering if you knew the Hendersons and if they are here somewhere?"

"Maggie, William and Billy? Yes, they are part of our party." She pointed to the third wagon past her own. "See the dark-haired man there, and the woman in the brown dress? That is William Henderson and his wife Margaret."

"Thank you. Thank you very much."

As he neared the couple, Adam slowed his walk, suddenly unsure of what to say. Spotting the little boy slumped before the fire, he nodded with resolution. The child looked up, as a twig snapped under Adam's boot.

Curiosity filled the youngster's black eyes. "Hi, mister."

Adam smiled. "Hi. You must be Billy."

The boy tilted his head, squinting slightly. "Yeah, that's my name. How come ya know it?"

By this time, Billy's mother and father had stopped talking and were staring, awaiting Adam's answer. Spreading out his hands as he grasped for the words, Adam turned toward the parents. "I'm Adam Cartwright. I live on a ranch near here, The Ponderosa. I was in the Trading Post today and saw ... saw your guitar, that is ... the guitar you traded."

The Hendersons looked quickly at their son, then glared at Adam. William spoke roughly, "If ya know of it, ya probly know we didn't like givin' it up. Had no choice." His hard eyes grew icier. "State yer business."

Flinching at the sorrow seeping over Billy's face, Adam hesitated, then suggested quietly, "Mr. Henderson, could you walk with me for a minute?"

Henderson opened his mouth to send the young man away, but something in the intense blue eyes made him agree. "Very well. I gotta walk to that well over yonder and fill up this pail. 'Spect you could walk with me for that spell."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

As soon as they got beyond earshot of the others, Adam spoke regretfully, "I'm sorry. I should have thought of your boy and asked to speak in private right away. Please, I do understand, even if you don't believe that."

"If'n ya understood, ya woulda done like you just said. But never mind. It's me that caused the hurt. I can't really blame ya when it's my fault - "

"Mr. Henderson, I have a way to fix the hurt."

William turned from hooking his pail to the rope over the well. "How's that?"

"I've bought the guitar, you see ... and ... and I'd like to make a trade with you, so you can have it back." Adam shook his head, correcting, "No, I really meant so Billy can have it back."

Hurling his bucket into the water below, William spun around, planting his hands on his hips. "You don't seem to get it, do ya? I traded that guitar for food and other nee-cess-it-ties. I don't got a waya buyin' it back, from you or them people that supplied me. I can't buy it and I can't trade for it. Now, go away. Don't speak no more about it. I've hurt my boy terrible with this, but it couldn't be helped. The sooner we all get used to the idea, the better."

"Sir? When are you moving on? How soon?"

Eyes narrowing, the man answered evenly, "A week probly, possibly more. A lot a the wagons need fixin'. Got ta tend to that now or we'll be real sorry later."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry about all your repairs, but I'm glad you have to stay, because you do have something to trade. If you'll just listen, I'll explain."

*****

Ben paced before the fireplace. 'If he's done something stupid, like deciding to drown his sorrows - whatever they might be- at that saloon, we'll be talking all right! He may be twenty-one, but he's living here and he'll answer to me until he chooses to - '

Joe burst through the door, "Pa, Adam just drove up!" Surveying his father's dark expression, he hurriedly added, "And you'll never believe it. He's - "

Ben brushed past his youngest to march through the door, muttering, "He'd better not be - "

"He's grinnin' from ear to ear!" Little Joe laughed, following his father onto the porch.

Distinctly hearing his eldest whistling, Ben asked no one in particular, "Can that be our Adam or did someone change places with him on the way back from town?"

Hoss stomped across the porch, smile widening with each step. "That's your Adam, Pa. Leastwise, I don't know any other Adam who would call our brother 'Little Joe', or punch me in the arm like he just done. But don't you be gettin' fooled neither. He may be smilin', but he's still actin' peculiar."

Ben frowned. "Peculiar? What kind of peculiar?"

Joe nudged his father, looking up to reveal sagely, "Adam kind of peculiar." He lifted his eyebrows, bobbing his head. "You'll see, Pa."

Ben looked heavenward with an inward sigh, then turned to find Hop Sing in the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips. "Supper ready. We eat, when table set and 'peculiar' son come inside."

Chuckling, Ben ordered Hoss and Joe to help Hop Sing. It would give him a chance to check out these mysterious peculiarities his eldest had brought home with him.

Ben walked into the barn to find Adam whistling yet another tune. He cocked his head slightly, ear turned out to catch the notes. Tipping his head to the other side, he realized he didn't recognize the melody at all.

Adam looked up, curry brush in hand. "Sorry I'm late, Pa."

Ben nodded, asking carefully, "Have that much trouble getting the supplies, did you?"

Adam answered a little too matter-of-factly, "No, the Orwitz' had everything we needed." He turned away to finish brushing Brownie, quietly adding, "I had some personal business that caused me to forget the time."

Studying his son's back, Ben repeated, "Personal business."

"Yes. Yes, sir, that's right." Turning around to meet his father's questioning eyes, Adam continued, "Fact is, I ... I'll be needing to go into town every day for the next week or so." Ben raised an eyebrow. "I'll be sure all my work is done here before I go, of course."

"Of course." Ben continued to stare at his son, but Adam walked past him toward the door. He reached out to touch the young man's shoulder. "Adam? Is that all?"

"All?" Eyebrows dipping, Adam emphasized, "I said it's personal, Pa." The anger from the morning shot back into his voice. "We all have personal information we can't share, even with our family, Pa, don't we?" He held Ben's eyes with his own, but his voice hinted at a hidden hurt, "I guess that must be part of becoming a man. Learning how to keep secrets."

Ben suddenly found himself alone, and as much in the dark as he had been the previous day. 'What on earth is the matter with him? What secret is he talking about?'

The younger boys shared a worried look as Adam slung open the front door and marched straight for the bunkroom.

Hop Sing shook his head, dropping the spoon back into the pot at the fireplace. "Another long night ahead."

Hoss nodded. "I'll say. What's ailin' him, anyhow?"

Joe opened his mouth, only to snap it shut as Ben walked through the open front door. "We ... we gonna eat now, Pa?"

"In a moment." Ben continued toward the bunkroom, tapped once on the door, entered, then closed the door behind him. Several moments passed before the missing Cartwrights came to the supper table. It was a very quiet dinner and, as Hop Sing predicted, another long night.

*****

The smell of fresh coffee lifted Ben's heavy eyelids the following morning. The sound of two worried boys whispering made him shut them with a groan. "What now?" As he slung his legs over the edge of the bed, he pressed his fingers to his cottony head, then rose to struggle into his clothes before steeling himself for whatever awaited him on the other side of his bedroom door.

Two heads swiveled, then dropped back to their plates as he entered the room. "Good morning, boys."

Hoss and Joe answered together, "Mornin', Pa."

Bypassing the long way around, Ben looked to the cook for his answers. "Hop Sing? Where's Adam?"

Bringing the coffee pot, Hop Sing filled Ben's cup. "Adam do chore, then go to town. He say, you know of plans."

Slowly lowering himself to his place with a sigh, Ben nodded, then took a sip from his steaming mug. "I knew he planned to go to town, yes. He didn't say why he was going though." An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Ben looked up and pointed to his sons' plates. "Finish your breakfast, boys. I ... I'll need you to run an errand for me in town afterwards."

*****

Hoss and Joe rode for some minutes before the younger boy could no longer hold in his burning question. "Hoss, ya think Pa sent us into town on purpose?"

Hoss rolled his eyes. "Well of course he sent us on purpose. Pa never does anything that don't have some purpose, Little Joe, you know that."

"Yeah, I do. And I think he sent us, on account of he wants us to spy on Adam, to find out what he's doin' in town, then come back and tell him."

"Huh?" Hoss gazed back, his face pinched in confusion.

Joe twirled a hand as he spoke. "Think about it, Hoss. Yesterday Adam bought all those supplies, but now Pa sends us back - to pick up a sack of flour? Why do you think he did that?"

"Maybe you got somethin' there, Joe. Even Hop Sing looked a little surprised when Pa said we needed more flour - then made that comment about having a craving for lots of flapjacks." Joe held his breath, anxiously waiting for his brother to work through the logic. His curls jumped when he finally blew the air out noisily. Hoss was nodding vigorously. "Yep. Yep, I think you're right. Pa has sent us on a secret mission. So secret, he couldn't even tell us we were on it." Stabbing the air with a finger, he declared, "Little Joe, we're gonna carry out this assignment. We'll find out what our brother is doing, then report back to Pa ... well, when he tries to get the answers, that is."

*****

The boys began at the Trading Post, where they put in their order for the flour.

Ruth frowned slightly. "Are you sure, boys? Adam just picked up flour yesterday."

Hoss nodded. "Oh, yes'm, we're for dead sure. Our pa just decided he hadn't asked Adam ta bring enough, is all." He looked intently at Joe and when that didn't bring any results, he jerked his head slightly in the storekeeper's direction while widening his eyes.

Joe jumped to attention. "Oh, um, yeah." He addressed Ruth, "Plus, while we're here, we thought we'd ask ... um ... if Adam said anything yesterday about having ta come back ta town today and where he might be headin'?" Mrs. Orwitz tilted her head to the side, eyes questioning. "See, ma'am, um ... we need ta catch up ta our brother, uh ... cause we didn't see him at breakfast and we gotta ask him somethin'."

Ruth carefully studied both sets of wide, too innocent eyes. "I'm sorry, boys, but I'm afraid I haven't seen your brother today." She looked to Eli, but he simply shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't Adam tell your father where he was going?"

The boys exchanged worried looks, then Hoss took over. "Well, ma'am, uh ... well, no. See, Adam left the house before Pa got up." Chewing his lip a moment, he finally explained, "Um ... it ain't nothin' to be worried on, ma'am. Adam is just in some sort of funny mood is all. He gets 'em sometimes. We're all used to it."

"I see. Well, I'm afraid I can't offer you any help. So, how about if I get the flour, or would you want to pick it up after you find your brother?"

Hoss nodded. "Yes'm. I think that sack'll be a lot safer sittin' in your store, than it will be runnin' around with us."

Ruth held in an appreciative smile, though Eli easily spied it in her eyes. As soon as the boys took their leave, the storeowners put their heads together.

"Eli, do you think this has something to do with that guitar?"

"It is very possible, Ruth. I hope that we do not regret making that promise. I would not want to think we are getting ourselves into an uncomfortable position with Ben as a result."

*****

The two brothers wove from one point to another for a healthy part of the morning, getting sidetracked at each stop. They checked with Frenchy. Though they got no answers there, they couldn't help but examine all the fancy new bridles he had in stock. Next, they visited Silas Landers, the blacksmith. He hadn't seen Adam, but he told them a few stories about his days as an apprentice and the boys left in stitches. Afterwards, they ran into Emmett Wilson, who owned the rooming house. They were polite and listened to his tales of woe about all his new aches and pains, but as quickly as they could, they extracted themselves from his company, since he had not seen their brother that day.

In between visits, they played several games of marbles, witnessed a fist fight in front of the livery, watched a man on a mule try to get the animal to a water trough, then joined the rest of the crowd laughing when the fellow threw up his hands and climbed into the trough to cool himself off.

Suddenly realizing how late it was, the pair headed for the saloon next, hoping Miss Sterrett was standing outside. Neither of them had their father's permission to enter her establishment without him. Joe punched Hoss' arm, then took off in a run. "There she is. Hey, Miss Sterrett! Miss Sterrett!"

Leaning against her building, Shelby turned with a grin and removed the cigar from her mouth. "Well, mornin', boys." She glanced up at the sun. "Nope, make that 'afternoon.' What can I do ya fer?"

Joe piped up, "You ain't seen Adam today, have you ma'am? We're kinda lookin' for him."

"Kinda lookin'? What's that supposed ta mean? Yer spying on him?" Her crooked smile gave her an impish look.

Hoss shook his head, his face serious. "Oh no, ma'am. It ain't right to spy on kin." He quickly added, "Or anyone."

Joe leaned forward to correct for both of them, "Unless you're paid to, like a detective or somethin' like that."

Hoss rolled his eyes, then put his hands on his hips to scold, "You know, Joe, when Adam suggested you start readin' more on your own, he wasn't talkin' about dime novels, like your friend Tommy reads. And if Pa catches ya readin' that foolish stuff, fer sure, he'll be puttin' a rush on findin' a teacher for this town."

"Boys." Both heads turned at once. "I ain't seen yer brother taday, but I did hear tell from some busybody yesterday that he was snoopin' around down where all them wagon trains corral themselves 'fore they clear outta town. Now, I ain't sayin' he was there then, or that he is now, I'm jest passin' on what I heard."

The boys nodded eagerly and Hoss spoke for them both. "Yes ma'am. Thanks, Miss Sterrett. We appreciate your help."

"Anytime, boys. Anytime."

As the brothers started off, Shelby puffed on her cigar, contemplating how this tied in with Adam's behavior the previous day. Her thoughts scattered as a bottle smashed against the swinging doors to her left. She slammed through them, yelling, "Tarnation! Cain't I even take a break without you people gettin' outta control! You'd think ya'd have a little more respect fer the one place you cain buy yerselves a drink in this here town." Getting nothing back but a bunch of blank expressions, she pointed sharply at the exit. "All right! Git yer sorry bee-hinds outta here. Now! And don't come back 'til ya got all that there breakin' outta yer systems!"

Hoss and Joe glanced over their shoulders, trading shrugs before continuing on their way, deciding the show was already over.

As they moved down the street, worry slowly crept out on Joe's face. "Hey, Hoss?"

"Yeah, Little Joe?"

"What happens if we find out somethin' bad?"

Hoss scrunched up his face. "Somethin' bad? What kind of bad?"

Waving both hands in the air before taking the reins again, Joe stammered, "I ... I don't know, but why would Adam be down there two days in a row? What if ... well, what if he's found a girl and she's leavin' with the wagon train an' ... an' he decides ta go off with her and we never see him again?"

Eyes shooting skyward, Hoss shook his head, then eyed the boy. "Goldang, but you got an imagination. Where do ya come up with these things, Joe? Boy, fer sure you better not be lettin' Pa see you're reading those books if this is the kind of stuff you're gonna be comin' up with."

Joe leaned forward and poked his finger in the air at his brother. "People fallin' in love and runnin' off with people is somethin' that happens all the time. And not just in books. You just ask Adam, if you don't think so. Pa too. It happens, Hoss."

Shaking an open hand in response, Hoss agreed, "Yeah, okay, it happens, but I don't think it's gonna happen to Adam. All right?"

A cloud hung over Joe's head, but he finally responded quietly, "Well, I sure hope not. I don't think I could stand it."

Hoss assured gently, "Joe, Adam wouldn't do that to ya." The younger boy looked over for reassurance. "He wouldn't, Joe. I'm sure of it."

The boy drew in a breath, then let it out sharply as he pointed, "Hoss. Look!"

Both of them stared ahead as Adam emerged from the emigrant field, waving to someone they couldn't see. They hung back until he'd gotten well beyond them, then rode by the point from which he'd exited. Standing over a large kettle was a beautiful blond girl. The boys exchanged wide-eyed looks, then kicked their horses into a gallop. They had to get home before Adam did!

*****

Ben worked through the next three days in a dream-like stupor. Each morning he watched Adam do his chores then head to town. Each afternoon he watched him return in a giddy state of mind, always whistling, always a different tune from the day before. As soon as Ben tried to talk to him, Adam clammed up and attacked his evening jobs, his movements sharp, his face a black cloud. His brothers had stopped bothering to talk to him, for when they did, he bit their heads off and stalked away in a huff.

By the fourth day, Ben could no longer stand the atmosphere in the house. He was relieved when Joe and Hoss asked if they could go spend the night at the Greene ranch. One of Margaret's mares was likely to foal and Tess had sworn it was going to birth twins. Just seeing Joe's eyes spark with excitement was enough to convince Ben to say yes. His youngest had been so depressed with the idea that Adam was getting ready to leave them that Ben thought it best to let the boys do something that would surely take their minds off the worry.

Hop Sing had also announced that morning that he needed to go to Hangtown, to participate in a cousin's wedding ceremony. Ben could hardly refuse him. Before leaving, the young man patted his arm. "Son probably have growing pains, Ben. He would not leave without telling you."

Perhaps not, but that didn't mean he wasn't planning on leaving. Little Joe DID have an active imagination, that was a fact of life, but he wasn't imagining that his brother was acting more peculiar than normal. And whether it was love or something else, Ben Cartwright needed to nail down what was behind his son's behavior.

*****

Slowing his horse to a walk, Ben neared the field at the edge of town. Dismounting, he stood a moment, second-guessing his decision. 'No, I need to know'. With purpose in his step, he started past the first couple wagons, then stopped just as quickly at the unmistakable sound of deft fingers plucking guitar strings. 'That melody, I've heard it - the other day in the barn! It's the same tune Adam was whistling.' Taking long strides, he quickly reached the Henderson camp, then ground to a halt. 'Adam! Adam playing the guitar? But how? When?' His thoughts were cut short when the music stopped abruptly and angry blue eyes locked on his.

Adam handed the instrument to Mr. Henderson. "Excuse me, sir." He stood and walked to stand before his father, voice cutting, "Are you spying on me, Pa? Don't you trust me out of your sight?"

Eyes narrowing, Ben warned, "That will be enough."

Shaking his head, the younger Cartwright held his father's eyes with his own. "No, sir. I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm doing what I need to do, to make up for lost time. Doing what you deliberately kept me from doing."

Realization exploded in Ben's mind. And with the discovery, his own anger churned. "You read his letter, didn't you?"

Adam glared in answer, before admitting through gritted teeth, "Yes, I read it. I had no business doing so, but it was in the book I wanted from your room, on Sunday. When I recognized Grandfather's handwriting, I couldn't help myself." Trying to steady his breathing and failing, Adam spat out, "You had no right to keep that to yourself all these years!"

Anger simmering, Ben growled, "Enough. We'll talk about this at home."

"No, I'm not through here yet." Adam turned away.

Ben grabbed Adam's upper arm and squeezed until his son could not ignore the pressure. When Adam faced him, Ben dropped his hand and voice, but his tone was unmistakable, "We will leave here, now, and finish this conversation in private. Do you understand me?"

No Cartwright son ever misunderstood that tone, if he knew what was good for him. Adam nodded, "Yes, sir."

Satisfied, Ben ordered quietly, "You excuse yourself from your friends. I'll be waiting for you over there." He pointed to where he'd tied his horse and paused long enough for Adam's nod of agreement.

*****

They rode in silence, the younger man nursing his anger, the older wrestling with a flood of memories - both lost in themselves, until the ranch house jumped into focus. Ben sighed inwardly with relief, knowing the house was deserted. After they had dutifully tended to their horses, he ended the silence. "I know the letter was a shock, Adam - "

Bottled up anger blew the cork from the top. "Shock!" Adam started to pace, bursts of hay rebelling beneath his feet. Pushing his hands through his hair, he knocked his hat to the ground, then turned on his heel to accuse, "After twenty-one years with you, I find out from someone else that my mother played the guitar!" His lips twisting in disgust, he spun away to resume his pacing, throwing a hand into the air to punctuate his rage. "A guitar you left it Boston! Grandfather tried to get you to take it, and you refused."

He slowed his walk, lowering his voice, admitting thoughtfully, "I understand that part. I do. It would have been hard, having it along as ... as another reminder ... " His voice broke, but renewed anger tossed the pain aside. "But I don't understand you keeping the fact from me, all these years, Pa!' He whirled, eyes flaming with condemnation. "I had a right to know!" He emphasized softly, "I did, Pa. I did."

Ben answered gently, "Yes. Yes you did. And ... And I tried to tell you, at different points along the way." He rubbed a hand across his lips, scolding himself quietly, "Why was it so hard?" Ben turned away, removing his hat, to push a hand through his thick brown hair. He spoke to the air, "I don't know that answer, son. Perhaps the memory of the music ... the music we shared ..."

"Shared?" Adam raised his hands, then dropped them with a slap to his thighs. He glowered at the back of Ben's head as he digested this new information.

"Yes. Shared." Ben's shoulders sagged under the weight of memories rekindled. Facing his son, he suggested, "Why don't we go inside? Please, Adam, we need to talk this all out. Please."

Adam nodded, following a several steps behind his father. As he neared the porch, goose bumps rippled up his arms, chilling him all over. Once inside, he paused to close the door behind him. When he turned back, he found himself alone. "Pa?"

"I'm in my room, son. Come join me, please."

The air suddenly felt strange, not cold, exactly, but Adam shivered as he headed toward Pa's partially opened door. He pushed it open the rest of the way and stopped, dumbstruck. His father was sitting on his bed, cradling a guitar in his hands.

"I don't understand." Adam stared at the instrument. His attention jumped to the piece of stationery in Ben's hand and he swallowed hard. "It's ... it's my mother's isn't it, Pa?"

Ben nodded, tears filling his eyes too quickly to blink them away. The overflow slipped down his cheeks and he dropped his head to wipe his eyes and regain his composure. He looked up again, ordering huskily, "Come sit down."

Adam obeyed and Ben stood, carefully putting the treasure in his son's now trembling hands. "I don't understand, Pa. How - "

Ben raised his palm. "Adam, I make no excuse for not sharing the truth about your mother for all these years, but I did have a reason for not sharing your grandfather's letter. I didn't tell you about it, because I answered the letter to make a request." Adam opened his mouth to interrupt, but his father shook his head. "Having this instrument brought here took a lot of thought and the cooperation of a number of very special people, people who had no reason to help, except that they felt in their hearts how important this guitar was to your grandfather, to me and ultimately, to you."

Adam hung his head, his voice catching in his throat as he managed to whisper, "I'm sorry, Pa."

Ben nodded, "I know you are, son. I forgive you, Adam. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me as well."

Adam set the guitar carefully down on the bed and rose to walk into his father's open arms. "Oh, Pa." He pressed his face into Ben's shoulder as he finished, "I would never have the nerve to call myself your son if I couldn't forgive you." The two held each other until Adam pulled free. He looked deeply into his father's eyes. "Please tell me about this guitar, Pa, about her playing, about the music you shared. Please, I want to hear all of it."

"Yes, all of it." He smiled as Adam's eyes gravitated back to the instrument on the bed. "Go on, bring it out with you. I'll go make us some coffee - "

"No!" Ben turned. Adam gave him a wobbly smile. "That is ... I'll make the coffee, Pa. Um, there's a chill in here. You could start a fire. Okay?"

Wise brown eyes met the laughter in the blue ones. "All right, young man, but I know an excuse to avoid my coffee when I hear it."

Adam smiled, then sobered. "Thank you, Pa. Thank you for everything."

Ben nodded, but his throat hurt too much to respond. He headed out the front door to collect an armload of firewood.

*****

With the warmth of a fire and coffee enveloping them, Ben began to explain "all of it," while his son's ears and mind took in every word from his father's lips and every emotion that passed across his face ....

~~~~~~~~

The guitar came to Elizabeth when she was a girl, upon the death of her Uncle Peter, her mother's favorite brother. Peter bequeathed the guitar to Liz, because she'd sat at his feet and listened, fascinated by the music that flowed from his fingertips, since she was a wee thing. When Peter was gone, she learned to play it, out of love for him and her mother. Elizabeth was a natural at playing. Her fingers were long and quick. She could play any piece and she eventually yearned to compose her own music. Her first song was for her beloved and she included in it a part for the violin.

~~~~~~~~

"She wrote music?" Adam's mouth hung open. "Oh, Pa, do you know any of it? Could you teach it to me?" Though his blue eyes screamed for answers, Adam waited patiently.

Ben nodded, the huskiness returning to his voice, "Yes, son, believe me, I remember every note."

Adam rose suddenly, his eyes filling with tears. Abruptly he left the house. Ben lifted his eyes heavenward. "Help me, Liz. Please, help me." He walked out on the porch in time to see his son riding out of the barn. As Adam kicked his horse into a gallop, Ben called after him, "Adam! Adam!" He ran for the barn, to saddle his own horse, knowing he and his son had to face this together.

Nearing the lake, Adam slowed his mount to a walk. The water usually soothed him, but his memories hit him, like towering waves crashing upon the beach. His father's fiddle had been a part of his life from as far back as he could remember. When Pa played it, he became a different man. The sadness never completely disappeared from his eyes in the early days, but somehow the music put a special light in them and Adam loved to see it. He loved the music too. All sorts of tunes came from the instrument.

When he grew old enough, he asked his father the origin of each song. Many were from his seafaring days, learned in far away places or from his shipmates. Others came from his boyhood. Then there were those few that Ben rarely played. Adam realized now that they must be the ones his mother composed. He'd only heard them when his father thought he was asleep. The boy never asked about them, but he'd memorized them and played them in his head, over and over.

He didn't need his father to play them for him now, he realized. He knew how to play the guitar, thanks to Mr. Henderson. He reached out to the calm blue water before him and a thought came back to hit him square between the eyes.

"I'm wrong. It's not enough to know they're her songs. I DO need Pa to play them. In fact - "

Adam heard the hammer of hoof beats and turned to meet the worried man riding fast to find him. He knew as he met Ben's eyes that his father had reached the same conclusion he had. They both needed to hear that music. They both needed to play the songs. And now they could play them together, the way they were meant to be played -- as a duet between violin and guitar.

Epilogue:

The wagon train pulled out of Eagle Station. Adam and Ben waved back to Billy as he peeked out of the last wagon, clutching William's guitar. Slipping an arm across his son's shoulders, Ben could smell the campfire smoke from the night before. He could picture the smiling faces of their close friends Eli, Ruth and Shelby, who had joined his younger sons, along with the rest of the members of the wagon train, while William Henderson, Adam and Ben entertained everyone with their music long into the night.

His heart swelled, thinking of the look on Billy's face as the child watched his father's quick fingers. It was at that moment he'd realized the true reason Adam had made the trade with Henderson - the swap of guitar for guitar lessons. The Cartwrights had also been very poor during their trek across the country. When Adam was just five years of age he became desperately ill and Ben had nothing, not even furs, to trade for a doctor's care or medicine. When a passing stranger made a big to-do over his fiddle, Ben agreed to an impromptu trade, for enough money to cover Adam's treatment.

Adam got well, but when he found out what his father had done, it nearly broke his heart. He sobbed bitterly, alone, when Ben left him in the wagon to purchase a few other necessities. Though they would never know the identity of the person who did it, someone apparently bought their fiddle back from the man who purchased it from Ben, then quietly slipped it into the Cartwrights' belongings. They didn't make the discovery until well beyond the town.

Here at Eagle Station, Adam had finally paid that debt for both of them.

The End.

(March 2005)