Lost and Found

By Texas2002

Thank you to Mr. Dortort who created the Cartwrights and the Ponderosa and shared them. And thank you to Ms. Sullivan who gave them new life. This story is purely for entertainment and is not intended to infringe on their rights or the rights of anyone else involved in the shows.

Rating: G

Thanks to ToLiMar for the efficient beta-read.

This story follows "Your Heart Will Tell You."

"It ain't fair," Joe moaned for the third time in as many minutes. He looked at Hoss on his right and Adam on his left. The way they were flanking him a person would think he was some kid who didn't know how to ride a horse.

"You think she'll buy 'im?" Hoss asked Adam.

The eldest brother nodded and kept his eyes on the trail that led to the Green's place. "I think so, yes. But I need to ask her without it sounding like charity."

Hoss laughed. "I don't see Mrs. Green taking a hand out from nobody."

"Jack Wolf has long hair," Joe continued his train of thought. "So does Hop Sing."

The combination of the two names caused Adam to shake his head in disbelief. "Hop Sing has long hair because of what he believes."

Joe threw his left hand in the air. "That's what I'm tellin' ya! I believe the same thing - I shouldn't have to get a haircut just 'cause Pa asked me to."

Adam and Hoss exchanged knowing looks.

"You plan to tell him that?" Hoss pulled Chubb in. The horse had picked up his pace in anticipation of a nice long drink from one of the water troughs at Green Valley.

"What?" Joe asked.

"You plan to tell Pa that you don't have to get your hair cut just 'cause he asked ya to."

"Well," Joe reasoned, "it's not like he ordered me or something."

Hoss laughed and Adam said, "Ooooh."

"Make sure I ain't around when you tell 'im that, would ya?" Hoss put a gloved hand to his heart in mock request.

Joe practically stood in his stirrups. "He asked, didn't he? He didn't tell me I hafta."

Adam glanced away so he could control his smile. "When Pa asks it's the same as an order."

"Is not." Joe stuck out his chin and kept his eyes straight ahead so he wouldn't have to look at either brother. "When Pa gives an order he talks real fast."

"Fine." Adam was tired of hearing Joe complain. "Don't get your haircut."

The imp looked up at him with eyes full of mischief. "I'll tell 'im you said I didn't have to."

Hoss shook his head. "It ain't gonna work, Joe."

The boy waved toward their older brother. "Adam said I don't have to. You heard 'im."

"I heard what he meant. And what he meant was to quit whining." Hoss indulged in a few more sentences while he was at it. "You been fussin' and whinin' since you got up. Pa's about full of it and so are we."

"Well, I ain't getting it cut," Joe declared as they started up the wagon trail to the gate.

"Fine," Adam said. "If you want to be miserable during the ride to the dance tonight that's your choice."

"Why would I be miz-rable?" Joe asked.

Adam directed his eyes meaningfully toward Joe's behind.

"Aww," Joe scoffed. "Pa wouldn't spank me 'cause of a dumb old haircut."

"Whatever you say."

Joe looked quickly from one brother to the other again. "He didn't spank you 'cause of a haircut, did he?"

"Nooo," Adam said slowly. "But I was uncomfortable more than once for disobeying him."

Joe slapped his left leg in aggravation. "It ain't like he ordered me, Adam."

"Be sure to tell 'im that when you're bent over his knees," Hoss suggested.

"Ya know what?" Joe sat straight, full of bravado. "Your problem is you just let Pa tell you what to do."

Hoss laughed good-naturedly. "You got that right."

Joe's chest swelled. "The diff'rence between me and you is that I can think for myself and I sure as molly don't need Pa telling me what to do."

"Oh, Joe," Hoss moaned softly. He clucked his tongue at Chubb and rode ahead, calling out, "Hey, Tess!" as she waved from the left-side corral.

Adam grabbed Paint's headstall with his right hand and pulled Beauty up at the same time. "You are headed for trouble if you don't watch yourself, brother."

Joe jerked Paint out of Adam's grasp and glanced to where Tess was speaking to Hoss. "I'll be polite."

"I'm talking about Pa."

"Pa ain't half as bad as you make him out to be."

Adam leaned back in the saddle. "I hope you never have to learn how wrong you are."

His quiet words brought a frown to Joe's forehead, but only for a moment. Then the youngster twisted his lips to the right, shook his head, and urged Paint into a trot.

The interior of the Green's hacienda was cool although it was a little dark for Adam's taste. But the lack of direct sunlight wasn't the only reason he felt ill at ease in the house. Here more than anywhere else he sensed Isabella's presence. There were too many memories here - memories of standing and smiling at Isabella as the wind tossed her long dark hair around her face, memories of her wistful smile, and memories of the questioning eyes as deep as the night sky. He didn't know which was worse, the memories on the porch or the spirit that filled the rooms.

"Please."

Adam startled and realized Mrs. Green was extending her hand toward a chair in the room she used as an office. He waited for Tess' mother to sit behind the desk before he sat, holding his hat in his right hand.

"Are you sure I can't offer you something to drink? Water, perhaps?"

He forced what he knew was a wan smile. "No, thank you."

"Well." She smiled and clasped her hands on the desktop. "I assume you did not ride all this way without a reason." Her eyes brightened. "And it is obvious that you do not need Tess to cut your hair."

Adam's smile was more heartfelt now. "Hop Sing trimmed it. Pa offered but -" He eloquently shrugged his shoulders.

Margaret raised her chin. "Is there something you wished to discuss?"

He had rehearsed every word of what he had intended to say to her. Now he couldn't remember any of them. "I'm hoping you can help me out," he said softly. Actually he was hoping the fine words he had written down would come back to him.

"I will be glad to if I can."

Adam let out a deep, slow breath. "The Eagle Ranch has a bull I want to buy. But I need to sell our bull first. I need the money to put toward the bull I want to buy."

Margaret inclined her head.

"What I was hoping," Adam said haltingly, "was that you might be interested in buying our bull."

She went straight to the point. "What are you asking?" When he told her, she pulled back. "Adam, that is nowhere near a fair price."

He hadn't foreseen this kind of reaction. "It's as low as I can go," he apologized.

Margaret put her hands on the edge of the desk and stood. "I have no doubt of that. You are asking far too little for that animal."

Oh. She had meant it wasn't a fair price in that way.

The woman folded her arms across her chest, clasping her upper arms with her hands, as she walked to the window. "If the offer came from anyone else I would have no qualms about paying the price." She turned her back to the window so she was silhouetted against the mid-morning light. "But I could never take such an advantage of a neighbor."

"Mrs. Green," Adam pleaded. "You would help me if you would buy the bull."

She held her right hand up to quiet him. "I did not say I would not buy the bull. I simply believe he is worth more than your asking price."

"That's all I need to break even." Adam prayed that for once he was a good liar. He fought for the unreadable expression he had watched Pa use in the past.

Margaret allowed the smallest of smiles on her lips before gently placing her right hand over them. She blinked, raised her head, and eased her hands toward her waist. "Our ranch has need of the bull, as you know. But I think he is worth at least fifty percent more than you are asking."

"Mrs. Green -"

"Why don't you speak to Fernando?" she suggested. "And I will arrange to have the money ready when you move the bull to one of our pastures."

"Ma'am -"

She smiled down at him. "Adam, I appreciate what you are trying to do. But I prefer to pay you a fair price. It is, after all, a business deal."

Well, he had tried. Adam stood. "Where can I find Fernando?"

"I believe he said he would be near the creek by the McNally property, checking for strays." Margaret walked beside the young man. "And, Adam."

He faced her.

"Don't forget the bill of sale," she said softly.

Adam smiled. "No, ma'am."

"We'll see you at the dance tonight?" Margaret paused in the hall doorway.

"I'll be there," he assured.

Margaret nodded. "'Til then."

Adam put on his hat, eager to leave the house and the emotions it resurrected.

"Hey! Where're you going?" Hoss called out from his perch on a stool as Adam crossed the front porch. Tess was nearly finished with the haircut, as attested to by the blond curls that lay like fallen leaves around and on Hoss.

"I need to talk to Fernando. I'll meet you at the house."

Hoss leaned back his head, causing Tess to tell him to hold still. "Don't forget the dance," he taunted.

Adam waved a dismissive hand then stopped in mid-stride. "Where's Little Joe?" He looked toward the corral and was relieved to see Paint still tied.

"He's in the stable playing with that new batch of kittens."

Pulling on his gloves, Adam asked, "Did he get his hair cut?"

"I don't think he means to." Hoss held his hands out, palms up. "I cain't tie 'im down, Adam." Then he shared a concern. "Do ya think he can really get past Pa?"

Adam chuckled. "I think we both learned the answer to that a long time ago."

Hoss laughed softly. "See ya at home."

Adam touched the brim of his hat. "Tess."

She held up the scissors and smiled. "Adam. See ya tonight."

He stepped into the left stirrup, swung into the saddle, and rode toward the creek.

How long had it been since he had thought of Isabella? In the beginning, after she had left, Adam had heard the swish of a skirt in town and had turned expecting to see her. He had thought of something and had reminded himself to tell her about it the next time they were together. He had stayed awake at night, sitting on the porch bench, listening for her heartbeat. He had written a letter a day, waiting for a letter from her so he would know where to send them. Had she arrived safely? Had she told Bertito that she loved Adam? There had been no letters. And the ranch had demanded more of his time, more of his attention. Still no letters, not to him or Mrs. Green, or Tess. Then Barb had arrived. And Molly had left. Still no word from Isabella. Summer, autumn, winter, spring. He was startled to realize how little he had thought of Isabella these past months - until he had stepped onto the hacienda porch today. It wasn't the first time he had been to the Green's home since Isabella had left. Why had this been the day for her memory to come at him from every direction?

Fernando and several other men were resting in the shade of the trees by the creek bank when Adam located them. Actually, Beauty was the one who sensed the other horses and pretty well led Adam to the temporary camp.

"Adam!" Fernando stood, holding his metal coffee cup. "It is good to see you, amigo."

Adam strolled across the grassy clearing and extended his hand. "Your trip to Mexico was a good one?"

A brief flicker of sadness in the brown eyes was soon hidden. "Si. Come. Sit."

Of the three vaqueros, two were new to Adam. He said hello to Gustavo and then Fernando introduced him to men who only used their last names - Vega and Salazar. The newcomers watched him closely as he sat on his heels near Fernando.

Judging from the fact that there was no heat radiating from it, the fire over which they had boiled coffee had been extinguished for some time. The cooled coffee pot hung from Fernando's saddle. Thankfully Adam would not have to accept a cup extended in hospitality. He knew from past experience the liquid would be as dark as pitch and about as thick.

He motioned with his right hand in the direction of the cows and calves. "Looks like you had a good spring," he observed.

"Much better," Fernando agreed. "Now that we keep the cows from the pine needles. And what of you? You also have the good fortune?"

Gustavo smiled and raised a brow at Vega and Salazar. "His is the family who was friends with Carlos," he said in Spanish. He looked at Adam apologetically and then shrugged. "But I forget - you have learned much of the language."

"Only a little," Adam admitted. He still remembered when he had complimented Margaret's cook on her cherry pie and said "cerveza" which was beer instead of "cerezas" which was cherries. Therese had assured Adam that she had known what he had meant but he had heard her giggles in his head for days.

"So." Fernando leaned against a tree trunk. "You do not join us for our delicious coffee, of this I am sure."

"I sold our bull to Mrs. Green."

Fernando and Gustavo exchanged wondering glances. "You have decided the way to produce calves without a bull at the Ponderosa?" Gustavo asked.

Adam appreciated the joke. "I'm working on it."

Margaret's foreman wagged his finger. "You have heard of this bull at the Eagle Ranch and you have bought him."

Gustavo spoke before Adam could reply to Fernando. He looked at Adam from the sides of his eyes. "You do not try to give your bull to Senora Green?" he asked skeptically.

"No."

"But you sell it to her for a little?"

Once again Adam found himself saying, "No."

Fernando straightened from the tree trunk and said to Vega and Salazar, "It takes this one a long time to tell a story. That is why I call him Tortuga."

Adam joined in the hearty laughter. He had acquired the "turtle" nickname before Jorge had wounded Isabella. Before Carlos' death. Before Isabella had left, bound by honor to -

"So we should arrange to bring this bull here when?"

Adam was grateful for Fernando's intrusion into his thoughts. "Whenever you're ready."

"It is always manana with Fernando," Gustavo quipped.

"Perhaps three days?" The foreman replied. "We must decide where to pasture him. I will speak to Senora Green of this."

Adam nodded his agreement and stood. Fernando spared a look for his men, who shuffled to their feet. "You will return. I will speak to Adam." Satisfied that his orders would be followed, Fernando jerked his head toward the creek. Adam fell into step beside him.

"I go to Mexico, as you know," Fernando said softly.

Following Fernando's lead, Adam lowered his voice. "Yes?"

Fernando stopped at the edge of the water. "Do you notice that no matter how we try to change the way it runs, the creek decides the way?"

Adam glanced impatiently at the sun. He needed to head home and do chores. Needed to get ready for the dance. He didn't have time to talk about diverting creeks.

The vaquero sat on his haunches and dipped his left hand into the cool water. "Isabella is married, Adam."

"Bertito," he said flatly.

"Bertito died before she arrived there."

Her childhood sweetheart hadn't been alive when Isabella had arrived at the Morales home? Why hadn't she -

Fernando stood and shook his hand dry. "Adam, Isabella is the daughter of a great rancher and a war hero when she is in Mexico. The people, they share and understand the traditions."

And she had chosen that - that attention - over his love? Adam turned his back to Fernando's side. "Who did she marry?"

"Ah," Fernando made the word sound disapproving. "He is the son of an important man, a powerful man." His tone indicated he was not impressed. "They are ranchers, si, but they no longer walk the land or touch it or know the moods of the sky."

"What is his name?" Adam asked.

Fernando turned philosophical. "Does it make a difference? Will it tell you anything of him?" He stretched, as if fatigued. "Never will she return to place flowers on the graves of her family."

Adam was hot and cold, his heart roared and yet it felt as if it had stopped beating. "Why do you say that?"

"There is nothing for her here, only pain."

I'm here, Adam screamed inside.

Fernando paused so long that Adam turned to look at him.

"I do not understand many of your ways," the foreman said. "You do not understand many of mine. But we understand honor, yes?" His dark eyes locked with Adam's blue ones.

"What does honor have to do with her staying in Mexico? She went there to see Bertito, not to marry someone else," Adam's voice rose with anger.

"She must honor her father's wishes -"

"She did. And Bertito is dead."

Fernando shook his head slowly, sadly. "Adam, can you not see? She is a woman of honor. Her father would never have allowed her to marry a person of different traditions."

All this talk about the dead dictating the destinies of the living was infuriating. "Her father isn't here!"

"But she could not dishonor his memory by disobeying what she knew to be his wishes."

Adam fought to control his temper. "I don't understand."

"Si. I do not understand many of your ways. You do not understand many of mine." Fernando touched Adam's shoulder with his left hand so lightly that Adam wondered if he had imagined it. The vaquero left without another word, as quietly as a sun-chased shadow.

Adam closed his eyes, put his gloved hands to his face, and wasn't even aware when he sat on the water-worn pebbles of the creek bank.

Hoss stopped in mid-stride and took a backward step when Ben came around the corner of the house from the front door. "Oh - uh - hey, Pa."

"Hoss. It appears you didn't let Tess overuse those scissors."

Ben's son smiled self-consciously. "If she takes too much off, my hat won't fit." He looked toward the bunkroom. "I better get that bath water started. Don't wanna show up at the dance smelling like horses or worse."

Ben laughed. "Especially the worse." He raised his chin and glanced around the side yard. "Where are your brothers?"

"Adam, he had to go talk to Fernando. Said he'd be along. And - uh - Joe -" Hoss hurried to say, "Joe's prob'ly in the barn. Excuse me, Pa." He fairly pushed his way past.

Ben leaned his head back. The explanation about Adam's whereabouts had sounded fine. But Hoss had sure stammered when it had come to Joseph. Why did he have the distinct feeling that Hoss hadn't told him everything?

"Hey, Pa!" Joe greeted when Ben entered the barn. He poured one last scoop of grain into Paint's feed trough and then dusted his hands. "When do we leave for the dance?"

Joseph was too eager, definitely trying to distract his father. They'd had a heated exchange about Joe needing a haircut this morning. Perhaps they hadn't finished that discussion. "We'll leave when Hop Sing has the food ready."

"Sure." Joe was overflowing with cooperation. "I'll get cleaned up."

The youngster headed for the barn door and was passing beside Ben when the man smoothly reached over and snatched Joe's hat off his head. Joe stopped so abruptly he almost tripped.

"Looks like you forgot the haircut," Ben observed.

Joe raised his arms at his sides and gave Ben a big smile. "I didn't forget, Pa. I didn't get one."

"Would you like to tell me why?"

"I didn't want one," Joe answered, standing easy.

Ben shifted his weight and folded his arms, Joe's hat in his left hand. "Would you like to explain this to me again?"

His son allowed himself a deep, dramatic sigh and slumped his shoulders. "You said I forgot. I said I didn't. I just didn't get one 'cause I didn't want one." He turned toward the barn door, remembered his hat, and yanked it from Ben's hand. "I gotta get ready."

"We aren't finished."

Joe turned to challenge. "Yeah, we are."

"No, we are not."

Joe threw his hat to the ground, upset that his plan had fallen apart so quickly. "It's just a dumb old haircut."

Ben's eyes lowered from his son's face to his son's boots. Any more displays like that and Ben would remind Joe that tantrums were not allowed. "Pick up your hat, please." When Joe answered with squinted eyes and a jutting chin, Ben pointed to the ground. "Now."

Joe glared at his father, then leaned to one side and picked up the hat with his right hand, after which he slammed it against his leg. When Ben raised his eyebrows, the twelve year old grinned knowingly. "I was just dusting it off."

And close to getting his pants dusted, too. "I did not ask if you wanted a haircut."

"Yes, you did," Joe shot back. "You asked me to get one and I decided not to."

There was nothing wrong with a son arguing with Ben as long as the boy did it with reason and respect. This youngster was using his own version of reasoning, and he was fast approaching disrespect. "I asked you to get a haircut. I did not ask you if you wanted one."

Joe shrugged a dismissal of Ben's point. "Same thing."

"No, it is not." Ben could feel the tight rein he was holding on his temper begin to slip. "And you know it."

A small index finger jabbed toward the man. "You can't tell me what I know."

"All right, that's enough Joseph." Ben warned.

"Hop Sing has long hair."

"You are not Chi -"

"And - and - the Indians have long hair and you're all the time sayin' we can learn things from the Indians."

He was doing his best to distract Ben from the fact that he had not obeyed. Ben took a breath. "The In -"

"You keep telling me to make decisions, too," Joe snapped.

"And this time you made the decision to disobey me." Ben sat on a tack box and watched his son mentally cast about for a way to avoid what Ben wanted to discuss.

Desperation drove him to declare, "You're wrong, Pa!"

Ben wanted to be very sure there was no misunderstanding - especially since he had a good idea about how this discussion would end. "You did not obey me."

"You asked me," Joe said again. "And I decided."

This was more stubbornness than Ben could stomach. He tilted his head back, looked from the bottoms of his eyes, and told himself not to grind his teeth. "You made the wrong decision, young man."

Joe threw his hat to the ground again. "I never get to do anything I want to! Not ever!"

"Joseph -"

"I couldn't have a alligator and ya wouldn't let me have a antelope or a prairie dog and you killed Elmer and Elmer never did a thing to anybody." Joe wildly waved his hands around. "You won't let me fight Lewis and I can't smoke a pipe 'til I'm old. And you won't even let me have a secret cave 'cause you have to go and find it and spoil everything and you're saying' I gotta get a haircut and I don't want a haircut and you tell me what to do like I'm dumb or something." Joe stomped his right boot, leaned toward Ben, and yelled, "I'm not dumb! You are!"

With an expert move, Ben lifted the boy and turned him bottom side up. He laid Joe across his knees and ignored his son's yelp of surprise. The swats he delivered to the small behind dusted the britches seat until it was a darker color than the rest of the material. Deed done, Ben stood Joe up straight.

"You will obey me and you will be respectful," he ordered, aware of the anger in his voice.

Joe's eyes were flooded inside a rim of bright red lids and dark splotches. The red faded to pink as it continued down to his freckled cheeks where the tears streaked through a light covering of dirt before trailing down either side of his trembling lips.

"I don't ever get to do what I want," Joe sobbed. He quickly put his hands behind him and took a step backwards when Ben raised his right hand near Joe's bottom.

"What should you have said?" Ben demanded.

The youngster kept his eyes on his father's face. "Yes, sir - Pa, sir - Yes, Pa - sir." He hiccupped.

Ben pointed his right index finger and spoke slowly. "And I will remind you, Joseph, that when I ask you to do something I had better not have to make it an order."

"Yes, sir - Pa, sir -" Another hiccup. Joe bit his lower lip, sniffled, swiped a grimy hand across his nose, and hiccupped again.

Ben motioned to the ground. "Pick up your hat, please."

Joe obeyed to the beat of two body-jerking hiccups.

"Now go to the house and ask Hop Sing to cut your hair."

Joe alternated between hiccupping and rubbing his bottom as he slowly walked to the barn door. When he stepped into the sunlight, he lowered his head and stepped from Ben's view.

Twenty minutes later, as Ben crossed the front porch, it occurred to him to wonder who in thunder Elmer was.

The house was quiet when Ben stepped from his room, putting the finishing touches on his tie. He could knot one without looking, a skill that had always amazed Marie. When he had explained to her that it was a talent born of tying off rigging ropes during storms so fierce that the sky had been black, she had told him he was comparing apples and yellows. He had wisely stopped telling her it was apples and oranges early in their marriage.

Ben strolled into the living area and raised his eyebrows when he spied Hoss, all decked out in his suit, white shirt, and tie, sitting in one of the fireside chairs, and knitting.

"Where is everyone?" Ben sat on the settee, amused by Hoss' frowning concentration.

"Hop Sing's packing up some food. Joe had to empty out the bathtub. I reckon he's about dressed now."

"And Adam?"

Hoss raised his head, studied the ceiling, and then returned his attention to the knitting at hand. "I'm thinkin' Fernando was farther out than Adam was expectin'."

That sounded logical. "What're you working on?"

Hoss ducked his head. "A winter blanket for Chubb."

"A blanket."

"Yes, sir. That's why I figured I should start on it straight away." Ben's middle son admired the inch or so of Chubb's blanket as the bunkroom door opened.

Joe entered the living room in his new brown suit, sporting damp - and shorter - hair, and scowled as he manhandled his string tie.

Ben beckoned with his left hand. The boy walked to him, offering a gentle smile of reconciliation. Ben smiled in return and the familiar sparkle returned to his son's eyes. "Your brother used to have trouble with his tie, too," he observed as he methodically undid the tangle Joseph had created.

"Hoss can't even tie off a horse," Joe teased.

"Hey, now," Hoss replied good-naturedly.

Ben shook his head. "Hoss never had trouble with this kind of thing. I was referring to Adam."

The news that there was something his oldest brother hadn't been good at caused Joe to rock to his toes in excitement. "Adam!"

"Um hum." Ben breathed a sigh of relief when he finally had the two tails of the tie unsnarled. "He was good with knots from the time he could walk. He worked with them for hours when we were traveling. But something about a tie absolutely confounded him." Ben winked at Joe.

"Well - but he can do it now." Joe shook his head that he didn't understand.

"That's 'cause he practiced," Hoss stressed.

Joe rolled his eyes. "Everything in the whole wide world is practice, practice, practice." Then he switched thoughts and turned toward Hoss. "How'd he practice?"

Ben tapped the youngster on his left shoulder and motioned for him to stand still.

"Back when we were kids -" Hoss laughed. "Back before you were born - he would give Thaddeus something good to eat and then he'd tell Thaddeus to sit -"

Ben paused with one end of the tie in each hand as he watched Hoss.

"Well, he'd tell Thaddeus to sit. But see, our ties weren't long enough to go around Thaddeus' neck. So Adam'd sneak into Pa's room and get one of Pa's ties."

"He what?" Ben asked.

"Yep. He'd use one of your ties on Thaddeus and then he'd put it back in your room slick as a whistle and next thing we knew you'd be wearing it."

Joe leaned his hands on Ben's knees and laughed.

"Hoss," Ben scoffed over his youngest son's giggles.

But Hoss held up his right hand in a sign of solemn oath. "My word, Pa."

With pure mischief on his face, Joe said, "I bet I could learn how to knot a tie if I practiced with one of Pa's ties, too. Zeke wouldn't mind a bit."

Ben tickled Joe in his middle and the small hands closed on his calloused ones.

"Who will help put food in wagon?" Hop Sing asked from the hallway.

As he leaned back to admire Joe's tie, Ben asked, "Would you help Hop Sing, please, son?"

The youngster took a skip step and ran toward the dining table.

Hoss laid aside his knitting and grinned at Hop Sing. "I can help, too."

"Oh, no." Hop Sing wagged his finger. "Want food in wagon, not in stomach."

"Aw, dangit, Hop Sing." Hoss walked sideways to the man as he carried a covered basket. "How're you gonna know if anyone'll like it if I don't taste it for you?"

Ben glanced at the mantle clock. It made no sense to start worrying about Adam yet. He would probably show up at the dance.

Adam squinted at the lowering sun, laid a rein against the right side of Beauty's neck, and decided that he had spent enough time by the creek, listening to the soul-soothing whisper of water over smooth, glistening stones. He was resigned to the fact that by the time he got home and finished his chores it would too late to go to the dance. It was just as well. He didn't want to be around people. Not yet.

He would probably still be sitting on the creek bank if Beauty hadn't finally persuaded him that he could think in the saddle. She had noticed that he wasn't fishing, that he wasn't making camp, and that he wasn't paying attention to her. So she had nudged him in the back, gently at first, ignoring his brusque order to leave him alone. Finally she had put her muzzle to his neck and blown a gust of hot air that he couldn't ignore. She had jerked back as he had flown to his feet and then had shaken her head and dragged her right hoof against the ground. Adam had known what she was saying. He might be willing to forego dinner but she was not.

Beauty had been right. He could think in the saddle. Her familiar gait reminded him of years ago when Pa had held Adam in his lap as they had sat in the rocking chair in the parlor in New Orleans and Pa had chased away all of Adam's troubles. Troubles that had seemed huge at the time; troubles he would gladly trade for the adult ones he faced now.

Every time his thoughts ventured to Isabella he was caught in a raging torrent of clashing feelings. He could not make order out of the chaos inside and that worried him deeply.

What hadn't he understood? And why?

Everyone in town had known what he should do. The answer had been simple as far as they had been concerned: marry Isabella. Then she wouldn't have felt that duty had called her to be by Bertito's side in Mexico.

Isabella had known that he loved her. They had shared dreams of a place to live, and a family of their own, and building a ranch together. But that was where Isabella's vision of the future had stopped. When Adam had mentioned college or travel, she had quickly changed the subject. What else was he to believe but that she hadn't been interested in those aspirations? It had seemed logical to him that he would pursue those goals on his own and then they could follow the dreams they had shared. She had understood that, hadn't she?

Besides, she had felt that she had to journey to Mexico. Her determination had helped him realize that he had had no more right to expect her to stay at Green Valley than she had had a right to expect him to give up his ambitions. But they could exchange letters, couldn't they?

When he had asked her if he might write to her, if she would write in return, he had watched her hopeful eyes sadden with disappointment. She had expected him to ask her to marry him. He had wanted marriage - someday. She had wanted it then.

He had spent that night on the front porch, sitting on the bench, seeking answers during the depths of night. When dawn had inched above the eastern horizon, he had thought he had finally found a solution to all their problems.

That morning he had asked her to marry him when she returned from Mexico. She had posed a question in return. Did he want to wait until she returned from Mexico because he doubted her or did he want to protect himself and his dreams? He didn't know why he had said, "Both." He wished to this day that he could go back to that moment and tell her that he wanted her to be free to make the decision: Bertito had promised marriage and so had he. She must chose.

Bertito. Hadn't it all been about Bertito - family friends, a childhood love, a promise that had been given without a thought to the future? He would have understood if Isabella had decided to stay in Mexico if Bertito had lived. Acceptance would not have come easily, not without heartache. But he would have understood.

So where had this other man come from? When had it changed from a choice between Bertito and Adam?

His confused thoughts rushed him toward perilous rapids he did not want to face. On the other side of the truth, though, was a calm area of clear understanding. He wanted to be there. He needed to be there.

What if she hadn't heard what he had been saying when he had asked her to marry him? If she had believed that he did not want to marry her; she would have felt free then, wouldn't she have? Free to marry Bertito - or someone else.

Why hadn't he been able to ask her to marry him without delay? Adam leaned back in the saddle and momentarily closed his eyes. He didn't like the answer he felt welling from the depths of his heart. When he opened his eyes, and looked into the darkening sky, he had to accept the fact that there had been a part of him that had not wanted to marry Isabella. Not someday. Not when she returned from Mexico. Not ever.

How else to explain why he had let her go? When you loved a woman you didn't let her go.

Deep inside hadn't he hoped she would stay in Mexico? Wouldn't that solve everything? If she didn't marry Bertito, she would marry someone else.

She had been asking him to help her break a promise to Bertito, yes.

But Adam had been hoping that Isabella would help him break his promise to her.

He had found the clear understanding he had hoped for - but it brought no calm with it.

After the wagon was loaded, and Ben was driving the team toward town, Hoss glanced across the wagon bed at his little brother. Judging from the way Joe was shifting around, the blanket that Pa had suggested they sit on to keep their suits clean was protecting more than Joe's new pants.

Hoss pulled the two baskets of food closer. "Sure smells good, Hop Sing."

Turning from the front bench, Hop Sing warned, "Make certain nose is all that enjoys food."

"Nobody'd miss just a little taste of somethin'."

Hop Sing faced front and watched Ben drive the team. "But when was last time you take little taste?"

Joe giggled and Hoss gave him a friendly jab in the arm.

"Ouch!"

"That didn't hurt," Hoss protested.

His little brother touched the area gingerly. "Sure did."

Hoss' brow furrowed with concern. He hadn't slugged Joe that hard. "Why's it botherin' ya?"

"Adam hit me with that bag."

Oh, the canvas bag packed with dirt. "You need to tell him to go easy, little brother. He wouldn't want to hurt ya - leastways not that bad." Hoss laughed and ducked Joe's swinging left hand. He leaned near Joe's ear. "Adam hit your behind, too?"

"No, Adam didn't hit my behind. Pa took care of that," Joe said loudly.

Hoss' eyes crinkled as he prepared for the scolding that he knew was coming.

"Boys," Ben said. "Let's mind our own business."

"We can't," Joe observed.

That was for sure. Hoss had never seen a day when his brothers didn't know as much about his business as they did about their own.

"Can't what?" Ben asked over his shoulder.

"Mind our own business," Joe explained. "We don't have our own business. It's all our business."

"Wh-at?" Ben's question, broken by a chuckle, caused Hoss to smile.

"It's all our business," Joe repeated. He put his left hand on his chest. "There ain't nothin' that's just my business -" he pointed toward his brother - "or Hoss' business -" a wave at the sky, "- or Adam's business. Everybody knows everything that happens to everybody. May as well try makin' gold outta chicken feed as try to keep a secret."

Hop Sing shook his head. "There is one way to keep secret, Little Joe."

Joe rose to his knees and crossed his arms on the back of the wagon seat. "How?"

"Do not tell anyone." Hop Sing smiled.

"What if somebody can read your mind?" Joe suggested as he looked at his father's back.

"Ahh." Hop Sign sighed. "Then it is best to have clear conscience."

"Joe?" Hoss laughed. "That'll be the day!"

"Yeah?" Joe challenged. "Well, I know some stuff I could tell on you."

So? Hoss shrugged. "Pa knows about it."

"No he doesn't. If he did, he would've done somethin'."

Seemed to Hoss that with him being around a few years longer than Joe, it stood to reason that he knew a bit more about Pa than Joe did. He stuck out his lower lip and slowly shook his head. "Joe, just 'cause Pa don't do anything don't mean he don't know about it."

Joe leaned closer and lowered his voice as he anxiously asked, "Ya think?"

"I know," Hoss assured. He smiled slowly as Joe settled back down on his side of the wagon bed and went very still.

That oughta give 'im somethin' to think about.

When they arrived in Eagle Station, horses and wagons surrounded the town hall. Ben turned the team toward the saloon and pulled back on the reins when they reached the corral. He didn't know when he had seen - well, heard - the saloon so busy.

"Well, hey, Ben! Hop Sing." Shelby greeted from the saloon porch, her fatigue fading as she smiled. She took her cigar from her mouth and motioned to Hoss and Joe as they jumped from the back of the wagon bed. "Who are those two strangers?"

"Aw, Miss Sterret," Hoss said softly.

Leaning against the front wall of the saloon, Shelby widened her eyes. "Dang if you don't sound just like Hoss Cartwright."

"Aren't ya comin' to the dance, Miss Sterret?" Joe asked cheerfully. "Hop Sing's made fried chicken."

Shelby smiled slowly. "With all these fellas stopping on their way to California I got too much business to be socializing, much as I'd like to."

The youngster walked to the foot of the saloon porch steps and lowered his voice "I'll bring ya a drumstick if ya want," he offered.

"Well, that'd be right kind of ya. Just be sure you call to me from the door, here. A saloon at night ain't no place for a nice-lookin' gentleman like you." She winked at him and sauntered toward the doorway.

Joe stepped in front of Ben as the man reached into the wagon. "Ya know what, Pa?"

"What." Ben retrieved his fiddle case and handed it to his youngest son.

Joe held the case in both his hands and squared his shoulders. "I look older with my hair cut."

Ben lifted one of the baskets from the wagon bed and handed it to Hop Sing.

"Well, yes, son, I believe you do."

The imp jerked his chin at Hoss. "You comin' or you gonna stand around all day?"

Hoss' teasing voice moved slowly behind Ben toward Joe. "You know, Pa, those new britches you bought Joe sure are small on 'im."

Joe looked down. "No, they're not."

"Well, then," Hoss said as he stepped in front of Ben, a little more than an arm's length from Joe, "you must be getting' too big for your britches."

Joe jumped to the side when his older brother reached for him. He shot into a run toward the town hall with Hoss charging after him. Ben considered what a miracle it would be if Joseph didn't trip and fall on top of that fiddle.

Hop Sing noticed Ben's frown, but misunderstood his concern. "Good clothes, work clothes, all the same to boys."

Ben closed his eyes when he saw Joe take one of his flying leaps toward the small porch in front of the town hall door. But he landed like a cat, safe and sound.

Hoss turned from the brotherly pursuit when he noticed Tess speaking to another girl outside the building and changed course to join them. At least that was what Ben thought at first. But Hoss gave the briefest of nods to Tess and her companion before quickening his step to help someone out of a wagon partially hidden in the shadows. Tess turned, her eyes following him, and her mouth set in a disapproving frown.

"Hey, Pa! Hop Sing!" Hoss called to them, then returned to a normal voice as he made introductions. First he waved to the girl standing near Tess. "Beth, this is my pa and Hop Sing. This here is Beth Parker."

Ah, yes. Ben would have known her anywhere: the girl with the eyes the color of a chestnut horse and the hair as deep brown as the spots on Paint. He shuffled the food basket to one hand and tipped his hat as Hop Sing said he was pleased to meet Miss Parker.

"Beth, please," she insisted. Her eyes roved as she tried to see past the two men.

Ben knew that look. "Adam was delayed. But he should be here before too long." Did he detect just a hint of pink in those cheeks?

A man and woman, Ben judged them to be near his age, joined the knot of new acquaintances. The man, who was Adam's height, shook hands with Hop Sing and then with Ben. "Bill Parker," he said. "My wife, Tennie, and our daughters Ruth, Mary, and Dinah."

"Ben Cartwright. My friend, Hop Sing."

Ruth Parker appeared to be about Hoss' age. Mary looked eleven or twelve. Ben thought Dinah might be a bit younger than Mary. All of the girls had dark hair and dark eyes, interesting since their mother's hair and eyes were light. Maybe their father's hair had been dark before it had grayed. Ben was noticing more of those gray hairs on his own head every day.

Ruth started to say something to her older sister, but Tess looped her arm through Beth's and deftly led her into the building. The slight did not go unnoticed. Hoss gave Ruth a look of apology for Tess' poor behavior and then strolled beside her, chattering in a way he usually reserved for the family.

Ben waved the Parkers through the door and wondered if four daughters were nearly as interesting to rear as three sons.

He looked around the large room and found Maggie standing by the punch bowl. As he started toward her, Hoss cut him off, intent on introducing Tess' mother to the Parkers. From what Ben gathered, the women had already met. Maggie was her usual gracious self and she smiled fondly at the girls. When she held out a hand to introduce Ben, Hoss said that he'd already introduced them - and promptly led the Parkers toward the McNally family.

"Four daughters," Maggie said softly as Ben and she met. She smiled and nodded her head toward the wall opposite them.

Ben noted the quick, shy smiles between Ruth Parker and Hoss. He predicted that by the time Angus, Eli, the rest of the band, and he played the third dance, Hoss would have Ruth in hand.

During the second song, Ben studied the room from the makeshift stage. Joe and Wendell leaned on the dessert table, their eyes much larger than their stomachs. Hop Sing had a short discussion with them. Joe dropped his arms to his sides and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Wendell and he dragged their heels in their journey to chairs along the east wall. Hoss stood by the drink table, with Ruth Parker by his side, and smiled at his father. Tess was out on the dance floor with a young man Ben had met a few weeks ago - Forrest Browne.

The handsome young man was Adam's age and had come west with a wagon train and without his family. According to Adam, Browne had found employment as a card dealer at Jack's Hotel. Ben's oldest son hadn't offered any more information on the newcomer. His silence had spoken volumes on his opinion of Browne. If Tess were Ben's daughter, he would be keeping a close eye on Mr. Browne.

Following his thoughts, Ben searched for Maggie. There she was. Standing in the corner by Julia McNally. And she wasn't missing a move of Tess' dance with Forrest Browne. Julia caught Ben's eye and mouthed the words, "Don't forget my dance." He nodded, held up the fiddle bow in salute, and then realized the band was ready to play the third song.

Hoss lowered his head and said something to Ruth Parker. She spoke and nodded. Hoss held out his right hand and, as Ben had predicted, the couple joined the dancers in the middle of the room. Ben was so busy watching his son enjoy the dance, remembering many a dance he had shared with young ladies, that it took him a while to notice Tess. What he saw caused him to lose his concentration on the music.

The little blonde stood in front of the chairs, her arms crossed at her chest, and her eyes narrow with anger. Ben knew her to be a jealous person but he didn't see Browne dancing with another girl. Matter of fact, he didn't see Browne anywhere. He returned his attention to Tess, followed her line of sight, and his eyes settled on Hoss and Ruth Parker as they laughed and talked and danced.

When the music stopped, Hoss' face was bright with discovery. That hint of shyness was gone, replaced with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. But as Ruth Parker and he walked toward the drink table, Tess hurried over to put her hand on his upper arm. Ben couldn't hear what she said but it was apparent from her coy behavior that she was using her charms. When they didn't work, when Hoss excused himself and resumed his trip toward the punch bowl with Ruth, Tess forgot her manners.

"Hoss Cartwright!" she shouted from the dance floor. "Don't you dare ignore me!"

Ben's son turned from the table with a punch cup in his hand, his mouth open in surprise. Ruth Parker took in a short breath, then pretended to be greatly interested in the sash at her waist.

"Tess -" Hoss was obviously embarrassed and aware of the quiet in the room.

"And," Tess charged toward the unsuspecting Ruth Parker, "if you think I don't know what you're doing then -"

Hoss protectively stepped in front of the girl and held out his right hand the same way he did to calm a spooked horse. "Tess -"

He didn't finish his sentence this time, either, but it wasn't because of Tess. Maggie took a firm grip on her daughter's right arm and said something that only the two of them could hear.

When Tess yanked her arm from Maggie's grip, Ben tensed. Maggie's checks flushed and she lowered her head in obvious discomfort. Hoss put his hand to Tess' back and directed her to the door. And then all eyes turned to Ruth Parker, who stood rigid and mortified.

Angus muttered under his breath and laid his fiddle on his chair. He nudged Ben with his elbow and suggested a song to play. As Ben led the other musicians in the tune, Angus stepped off the stage and went straight to Ruth Parker. He bowed deeply, held out his right hand, and worked his admirable magic until she consented to a dance. The tension in the room disappeared amid renewed talk and laughter. And as soon as everyone was occupied again, Ben caught movement from the corner of his eyes. Joe and Wendell were sneaking slices of cake.

Hoss led Tess toward the creek and when he judged they were out of earshot he turned to her, keeping his voice low all the same. "You shouldn't've embarrassed her that way, Tess."

"Embarrassed her!" Tess slammed her hands against the sides of her skirt. "How do you think I felt? You out there on that dance floor, smilin' and makin' eyes -"

Well didn't that beat all. Tess thinkin' he ought to ask her before he -

"You tellin' me I have to ask for your permission before I can dance with another girl?"

"How do you think it looked?" She tossed her head and glared up at his face. "Me left standin' there while -"

"You were standin' there because you wanted to." Hoss put his hands at his waist. "You didn't hear me complainin' when you had that dance with Forrest Browne."

Tess straightened her back and lifted her chin. "I could hardly refuse him when he asked."

Hoss waved his right hand in the air. "It wouldn't've been polite, would it?" he snapped. "No more than it would've been polite for Ruth not to dance with me when I asked her."

Tess gained control of herself and changed her tone of voice to the sweetest one she could muster. "You know how things are between you and me, Hoss. Besides you had no right to -"

There were only a couple of people in this world who could tell Hoss what he could and couldn't do - and Tess Green wasn't one of them.

"No right!" Hoss' shout echoed off the back of the building. "You're tellin' me I got no right to ask a girl to dance?" He shook his head slowly and then pointed with his right index finger. "Let me tell you somethin', Tess -"

"Don't you dare raise your voice to me!" Tess yelled.

"Oh, I ain't even started to tell you how I feel," Hoss promised. He moved his arm so he was pointing toward the town hall and lowered his voice again. "You embarrassed that poor girl in front of everybody. And you made a fool of yourself while you were doing it."

Tess' eyes widened until Hoss didn't think they could get any bigger. "You're calling me a fool?"

"I'm sayin' you did a pretty good job of it."

He had only thought she was angry before. She breathed through her mouth and as she did so she gritted her teeth.

If she thought she was gonna scare him then she'd better think again. He'd faced a whole lot worse temper than anything she could muster. And he'd learned some pretty good things to say in the course of those arguments with Adam, too.

Something about the tight way Tess was standing reminded Hoss of a snake ready to strike.

He needed to get something straight with Tess. "Ruth is a nice girl and -"

"Oh, now it's Ruth, is it?" Tess said sarcastically.

"It's her name, Tess." Hoss fought for patience. If he got as mad with her as he had with Adam a time or two it wouldn't be good. "There ain't no sense in talkin' to you when you're like this," he announced as he walked away.

"Don't you turn your back on me!"

She had pushed him far enough with what Pa called 'poor behavior.' Hoss whirled, pointing again. "Quit tellin' me what to do."

Tess put her hands at her hips and taunted, "Or you'll what?"

"Son." His father's soft voice reached Hoss' ears.

Ben stepped from the porch but kept his eyes locked on Tess as he spoke to Hoss. "I believe you're wanted inside," he said gently.

"Go ahead!" Tess shouted. "You go right ahead, Hoss Cartwright. But don't you ever ask me for another dance as long as you live!"

Ben put his right hand behind Hoss' shoulder and gave him a smile of encouragement. When his son stepped past him, Ben spared a look at Tess. She might not have been able to read it but his sons could have. And they would have given him a very wide berth.

When they returned to the lantern-lighted interior of the town hall, Hoss immediately located Ruth Parker and made a beeline in her direction. He sat on the chair beside her and shook his head slowly. "Ruth, I'm real sorry for what Tess done."

The girl smiled and Hoss was surprised at the warmth in her eyes. He hadn't been sure she'd ever talk to him again after the way Tess -

"It's not you who should be apologizing, Hoss," Ruth remarked.

He lowered his eyes to the floor. "I'm not real sure that Tess will."

"That is her problem, not yours."

He laughed and shook his head. "You sound like Pa. I mean -"

Ruth blushed. "I know what you mean."

And she did. There was no need to explain at all.

She swiveled on the chair seat until she was facing him. "Hoss, I have something to ask of you."

"I'll do anything I can for you," he vowed, his eyes wide for emphasis.

"Would you call me 'Ruthie'?"

That was it? Call her 'Ruthie'? "Sure, I reckon I can do that." He slid his hands over the knees of his pants. "I'd ask you to call me Erik but nobody much'd know who you was talkin' about."

Ruth stuck out her bottom lip and blew at the hair that was falling into her eyes. "Your middle name is Erik?"

He laughed. "No, Erik's my name. Hoss is just what folks call me." He motioned toward her hair. "Ma used to do that blowing to get her hair off her face, too. Sometimes she'd blow so long that she could get it to stand straight up."

"Like this?" Ruth repeated the action but this time she continued to blow until the front of her hair stood straight as a tree.

Hoss laughed. "Dang if that ain't it!"

She smoothed the lap of her skirt. "If your real name's Erik, why do people call you Hoss?"

They didn't know each other good enough for him to tell her that story. Instead, he looked to the stage as the music began. "Wanna dance?"

She was on her feet before he was. "Sure!"

Hoss didn't know what caused him to smile more - doing the Spanish waltz with Ruthie or seeing Pa having a good time as he eased around the dance floor with Mrs. McNally. Pa'd always been a good dancer and if what Ruthie'd told Hoss was true, some of that dancing ability had rubbed off on Hoss. He felt so good that he whirled around real fast and swept Ruthie right off her feet. She laughed and pretended to scold him, telling him he didn't seem to know his own strength. Maybe not. But he knew one thing for sure: Ruthie was the nicest girl he'd ever met.

"Come on," Aidan insisted as Sean and he led Wendell and Joe to the door.

"This is gonna be real good," Sean added.

Wendell and Joe exchanged wondering looks and followed the brothers behind the town hall. Aidan leaned his back against the building, bent his left knee, and propped his boot against the wall. Sean checked the vicinity and then said, "No one around."

"We're gonna let you help us," Aidan announced.

"Help ya what?" Wendell demanded.

"With the horses." Sean crossed his arms and smiled smugly.

"What about the horses?" Joe asked.

"Well," Aidan stretched out the word, delighting in his audience's attention. "Just about everybody's been out to stretch their legs. Pretty soon there won't be anyone out here but us."

Joe was bored already. He made a face and tapped Wendell on the arm, motioning to leave.

"We're gonna let 'em go," Sean hurried to explain.

Wendell turned and frowned at the brothers. "Let who go?"

Aidan's green eyes rolled. "The horses, Wendell."

"Why're ya gonna do that?" he asked. "It'll be a mess."

Aidan and Sean laughed. "Yeah," Aidan said, "we know."

There was a time when Joe might have thought this sounded like fun. But his bottom was a little too sore for him to see much to enjoy in the prank. And he could sure see a lot of trouble. "That's not a real good idea," he pointed out.

Aidan gave him a look as if he had betrayed them. "Whaddaya mean?"

"The horses could get hurt."

"Ah," Sean waved a hand. "Dumb old horses can get hurt standing still."

Joe stepped up until he was in Sean's face. "You touch any of our horses and I'll stomp you so flat they'll never find you."

"Oooooohhhh," Aidan taunted. "And just how do you plan to do that?"

Wendell stepped up beside Joe. "With me right there with 'im." He pointed at one boy and then the other. "You leave the horses be or I'll tell folks exactly who was behind it."

Aidan pushed from the wall. "You do that and we'll tell your Pa who broke them windows at the bank."

"He already knows and I already got a lickin' for it."

Joe hadn't heard anything about broken windows at the bank. Sounded like neither him nor Wendell had been having a good time of it lately. "Come on," he turned to leave.

"That's all right, girls," Sean cooed. "We'll be fine without you."

Wendell's hands clenched into fists but Joe tugged at his shirtsleeve. "Come on, Wendell. They ain't worth it." It took every thing in him to ignore the name-calling that followed them.

"Where are we goin'?" Wendell asked when they stepped inside the town hall.

"I told Miss Sterret I'd bring 'er some of Hop Sing's fried chicken."

"You're going in the saloon?" Wendell gasped.

Joe twisted his mouth. "No, Wendell, I ain't goin' in the saloon. She's gonna meet me at the door."

Wendell walked alongside Joe as they approached the table. "Ya figure she might give us some sarsaparilla?"

"I don't know," Joe answered. "Pa's not much on us drinking that stuff."

"Why not?" Wendell grabbed a cloth napkin and held it open for Joe to deposit a few drumsticks.

"He says it's too strong."

"No, it ain't. I tasted some and it was good."

Joe wiped his hands on the sides of his pants. "All I know is Pa said not to." He accepted the napkin from his friend and tied up the corners.

"Since when's that stopped you?" Wendell laughed. He knew what it meant when Joe didn't respond. "You been in trouble again?" He followed Joe without noticing where they were going.

Joe walked up to Ben as he was pouring another cup of punch for Mrs. Green. "Pa? Wendell and me are gonna take some chicken to Miss Sterret."

Margaret smiled and looked down.

"That's very kind of you, boys." He handed the cup to Margaret. "But no where else, understand?"

Joe said, "Yes, Pa," and then elbowed Wendell toward the open door.

"Well? Ya gonna tell me?" Joe's friend prodded.

"Tell ya what?"

"What ya got in trouble for." Wendell was eager to hear the details.

Joe paused in the doorway. "No."

"No?" Wendell was incredulous. Then he whistled. "It must've been some kind of trouble."

"I ain't gonna talk about it," Joe vowed as the boys stepped to the street. "So just figure up something else you're interested in."

"Ya don't have to get mad about it." Wendell shrugged his shoulders.

Maggie accepted the cup filled with punch and noted how Ben looked around the crowded room. "Is something wrong?"

He pressed his lips together in an attempt at a smile. "Adam isn't here yet." When Maggie raised her chin and glanced to one side, he asked, "What?"

"Shall we get some fresh air?" she suggested.

Ben stepped in front of her to open the door. She was right about the air being fresh. Out here there was no smell of food or perfume or the scented waters that several of the men used rather than subject themselves to a soaking. Ben breathed in the night air and marveled, as he had since he'd been a child, at how lavender every thing appeared in the light of the full moon. He walked beside Maggie, toward the wooden bench that overlooked the creek.

"Fernando returned from Mexico." She sat and held her drink with both hands, resting it in her lap. "And he brought a letter."

Ben sat, put his arms on the bench back, and crossed his legs. Given how unsettled the political situation was, despite the treaty with Mexico, Ben wondered what Maggie knew. "What kind of letter?"

"It was from Isabella."

"Isabella?" He smiled with delight.

"I doubt that Adam will consider it good news, Ben."

Maggie's words were heavy and hesitant.

"Has she been hurt?"

She shook her head. "No."

"What then?"

Maggie's left hand released its hold on the cup. She rested her arm in front of her waist. "Isabella is married."

"Married!" Ben realized he had shouted and apologized. "Surely no one expected her to honor that childish promise to Bertito," he protested.

Maggie finally looked at Ben and her dark eyes held dread. "Bertito died before Isabella arrived."

"Died?" He frowned.

"She married a young Spanish man by the name of Tomas. Apparently his family is wealthy and respected and Isabella is able to live in the manner that she knew as a child."

Ben slouched on the bench and rubbed his right hand across his face. "Does Adam know?"

"I think he might. He rode out to speak with Fernando." Maggie's left hand rose to her throat. "I would have allowed Adam to read the letter, Ben, but Isabella - well - she didn't mention him."

Dear Lord.

Maggie placed her left hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Ben."

Adam knew. That was the reason he wasn't here. Ben ached with the knowledge that this was one time when he couldn't ease his son's hurt, when kind words would sound hollow. He leaned his head back and looked to the stars. Would that they could guide Adam through this.

"Ben?" Maggie's gentle voice prodded. "We should probably go back in now."

He stood as Maggie did and then motioned to the bench. He intended to stay.

She nodded that she understood, took several steps, and then turned to face him. "Ben -"

He raised his brows.

"There never is anything a person can do or say when we lose someone we love, is there?"

"A person can be there," Ben said slowly.

"Yes, well, there is that." Maggie gathered her skirt in her hands and returned to the town hall.

When Ben was certain he was alone, he leaned his elbows on his knees. Adam had said he wanted to go to college, see the world, and marry Isabella someday. Someday. Not when Isabella wanted. Not when the townsfolk expected. Someday.

By the time he had been Adam's age, Ben had known Elizabeth's love. He could never have said "someday."

The lively fiddle music from the dance inside the town hall teased at the edges of Ben's thoughts. Angus and the others were playing a song that Ben had first heard when Angus and he had attended a party on the beach one night.

The tune started slowly, seducing the dancer with the lilt. Man and woman stood beside each other, one arm around the other's waist, one hand held high. When the song had the dancers right where it wanted, the pace grew faster and faster until the dancers laughed and shouted and grew drunk on the sensation of moving their feet so quickly that they felt they could fly.

Then they were flying, as she leaned her head back and allowed her auburn hair to swirl to her shoulders. Her arm rested across his stomach, he could feel the warmth through his vest and shirt. The necklace that had nestled in the hollow of her throat flew to one side, the gold chain sparkling in the moonlight and the firelight. The music grew faster. Her hair swirled, fell across his cheek. She laughed. His hand tightened at the side of her waist. Her arm pressed harder against his chest. The hands they had been holding high as they whirled and whirled and whirled - the hands were no longer held high in the air. The hands rested at the side of the other dancer's cheek. And the arms at the waist grew more insistent. Now the hands slid from the cheek to the lips. The bodies were in front of each other. Then the hands pulled the face closer. The lips met as the bodies touched. The music was a whirlwind pulling them to its center. His lips were over hers.

Ben leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. He could hear Elizabeth's laughter; feel her warm skin; smell the sharp, spicy aroma of her perfume; see that auburn hair cascade to her shoulders; and he could taste the kiss and remember the fire that had shot through him and scared him more than any storm at sea ever had. All those years ago on a sandy beach while the fires crackled in the sand, and the breeze sharpened the skin's sensations with salt air. The music and the movement and the rustle of skirts -

It had been a warm spring night like this, and a full moon, and the music. Always the music.

"Pa?" A voice said softly from the other side of the whirlwind. "Pa?"

Ben opened his eyes. Hoss stood in front of him, his hands on his hips, and a deep frown on his forehead.

"Pa, Adam still ain't shown up." He bit the left side of his lower lip.

Ben started to speak but Hoss uncharacteristically interrupted.

"Pa," he protested. "This ain't like Adam. He oughta be here by now."

"Sit down, please," Ben requested.

"Pa," Hoss insisted. "I think something's wrong."

"It is," Ben agreed. "And if you'll sit, I will tell you what it is."

Hoss slowly obeyed and then listened without comment as Ben told him what Maggie had said. His middle son was so quiet and still that Ben wasn't sure he had heard everything. He needn't have worried.

"I think we need to go," Hoss said after he had stood. "We need to be there when Adam gets home."

A harsh stream of cursing in front of the town hall stopped Ben before he could answer.

"What d'ya reckon that's all about?" Hoss questioned. He stepped aside as Ben stood.

Another loud voice, this one sharing expressions of disbelief, shot toward Ben and Hoss as they walked upslope. By the time they were even with the open town hall door, a man stood on the porch, yelling into the scene of the dance.

"The horses and wagons are gone!"

Hoss gave his father a wide-eyed look. "Who'd steal horses around here?"

Ben had no idea. But as Hoss and he walked to the front of the building they found the report to be true. Every wagon, every horse - gone. "They had to do this before Maggie and I came outside," Ben reasoned. "We would have heard -" he put his hands on his hips as he figured out who might have moved the horses and not stolen them. "Where's Joseph?"

"I ain't seen him since Wendell and him left," Hoss answered. A moment later he understood why Ben had asked. He waved a hand toward the street. "Pa, there ain't no way. Joe wouldn't do something like this right after, well, it's just that he knows better than to pull some fool trick like this."

He also knew better than to be disobedient but that hadn't stopped him earlier today. "Would you check the town hall, please? I'll meet Hop Sing and you at the wagon." Provided it was where they had left it.

Hoss gave him a quick, "Yes, sir" and turned to obey.

Ben wished he were as sure of Joe's innocence as Hoss seemed to be. He would look for the youngster soon enough, first he needed to see if the family's wagon and horses were in the corral. As it turned out he found the first and the second together.

Giggles and soft talk reached Ben's ears after he crossed the street and turned toward the left side of the saloon. He slowed his pace as he approached the corral and recognized Joe's voice. More than likely the second boy's voice was Wendell's. When Ben stepped into their view, with the moonlight and the saloon porch light playing across the scene, the youngsters were sitting on the lowered tailgate of the wagon and swinging their legs. What appeared to be a small paper cone containing candy lay between them.

"Hi, Pa," Joe greeted. He wrapped his left hand around the paper cone and held it up. "Look what Miss Sterret gave us. Want some?"

Ben noted that Molly and Jezz stood patiently waiting. The Cartwrights might be the only ones whose horses were where they had left them. "No, thank you," he said to Joe's offer to share the sweets. "Where are the horses?"

Wendell and Joe turned to each other with expressions as if Ben had asked a trick question. Joe motioned behind him. "Right there, Pa."

"The other horses," Ben clarified. Or thought he had.

His son squinted slightly and turned his head to one side. "At the ranch?" he queried uncertainly.

Either he was putting on a darn good act or, impossible as it seemed, he hadn't been part of the mischief. Ben leaned back slightly. "Where are the horses and wagons that were at the town hall?"

Well, this was interesting. Now the two innocent faces filled with guilt.

"Maybe they got stolen," Wendell offered.

"Maybe it was pirates," Joe enthused, then shook his head. "I guess not from the way you're frownin', huh?"

"Need I remind you that if you know something you will do better to tell me now?" Ben crossed his arms in front of his chest.

The boys shifted uncomfortably, especially Joe. He laid the paper cone down between Wendell and himself. "It was Aidan and Sean."

"And how do you know this?"

Wendell shrugged. "They told us they were gonna let us help 'em but we didn't much want to."

"'Cause we needed to bring Miss Sterret that fried chicken that I promised her," Joe added.

"And did you?"

Joe's eyebrows rose. "Did we help Aidan and Sean?" he questioned.

"Did you take fried chicken to Shelby."

Wendell grabbed the paper cone and held it up. "That's how we got this."

Ben nodded. "And if I ask Shelby will she tell me the same story?"

Joe's chest puffed up. He clearly considered his father's question an affront. "It ain't a story, Pa. It's the truth," he contended.

A slow smile stretched Ben's lips. "I apologize."

"You sure ya don't want one, Mr. Cartwright? They're lemon." Wendell said.

Ben held his hand out, palm forward. "Not tonight, thank you."

"Want me to save some for ya for tomorrow?" Joe's friend asked.

"No, thank you." Ben chuckled. "Would you wait here, please, while I help the other men find the horses?"

Joe pulled his feet up and bent his knees. "We ain't splitting up 'til we eat it all," he said of the candy.

Ben hoped the boy's stomach wouldn't hurt half the night - and was glad Joe's behind wouldn't ache anymore than it did at the moment. He looked over his shoulder as he walked toward the cluster of people by the town hall. Joe was sitting on the wagon tailgate with no blanket providing padding underneath him. Maybe candy had some sort of healing effect on spanked bottoms. Ben would have to ask Hop Sing about that.

"Whooee." Hoss whistled in amazement as he sat in the wagon bed. "I thought those men were gonna skin them McNally boys alive when they found out what they done. And then having to go all over creation finding them horses. Did you ever see so many mad folks in one place in all our life?"

Ben directed the team slightly to the left and was glad they were headed home.

"A long time ago, yes," he answered.

"When?" Joe asked from where he lay on his back with his eyes closed and his head propped on Hoss' left thigh.

Ben couldn't resist. "A long time ago," he repeated.

"I mean," Joe said and Ben could imagine the youngster rolling his eyes, if he had them open, "how old were ya?"

"A little younger than Hoss."

"Pa," Hoss scolded. "Could ya just tell it to us straight out?"

How many times had Ben wanted to say the same thing to his sons? "There were about sixty men in a fight," he said.

"Sixty men!" Hoss exclaimed.

"A fight!" Joe sat up so quickly he had to grab his hat.

"It might have been seventy men," Ben allowed. "I didn't stop and count."

"You were in a fight?" Joe clamored for more of the story. "Where?"

"Outside a tavern. But no, I was not in the fight." Ben considered. "I didn't intend to get in the fight. All I intended to do was pull Angus out of it. But while I was doing that I took a couple of hits to the jaw."

"Is that when you learned how to fight bare knuckles?" Hoss asked eagerly. "Is that when you learned how to knock a fella out?"

Why, of all Ben's skills, did the boys admire that one most of all?

"No, son, I learned how to fight before that."

Hoss was full of high spirits. "When'd ya learn?"

Ben narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell this part of the story. Hop Sing glanced over at him, his dark eyes amused and curious.

"I was about fourteen," Bed admitted.

"Fourteen!" both boys exclaimed.

Then Joe asked with no small degree of worry, "What did Uncle John do?"

"He wasn't there."

Joe lowered his voice. "I bet he heard about it."

"No, I don't imagine that he did, Joseph. He was in Ohio."

The fact that an older brother could leave a fourteen-year-old brother behind was unbelievable for Joe. "He shoulda taken you with 'im."

"I didn't want to go."

"What'd that have to do with it?" Joe demanded. "You shoulda gone with him. He should've asked ya."

So some part of the lesson from earlier today had taken root - however convoluted.

"He should've waited," Joe chided. "Adam wouldn't go off and leave Hoss and me." He clearly did not consider leaving a younger brother behind to be the older brother thing to do.

"No, he wouldn't."

"And Hoss wouldn't leave me," Joe declared.

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Ben agreed.

"What Uncle John did was wrong. Real wrong." Joe was fuming at what he perceived to be an injustice. "He just should've waited for ya. You would've waited for him."

"Yes," Ben said, "I would have."

Hoss was more interested in another subject. "Did ya ever start a fight, Pa?"

Ben winced. If he lied they would know it, best to tell the truth. He hoped they wouldn't ask for details. "Yes."

Joe asked the cunning question. "Did ya ever finish a fight?"

"Yes, that, too."

"Dang," Hoss said in admiration.

"Bet ya finished more than one fight," Joe prodded.

Time to shift their attention. "I hope Adam's home," Ben said.

"He is," Hoss assured. At some time during the evening he had quit worrying about his older brother's whereabouts.

Ben knew not to ask how the brothers could answer that type of question with such certainty.

"Well - then," Joe sounded confused. "Why didn't he come to the dance?"

Hoss sighed deeply. "I got somethin' I need ta tell ya," he answered.

Ben listened as Hoss told Hop Sing and Joe about Isabella's marriage. Joe asked no questions. But when Hoss was finished, the youngster said, "Golly." He put so much sympathy into the word that Ben wondered if Joe understood more about love than even Joe was aware he did.

The family's reactions when they arrived home and found Adam sitting on the front porch bench, his right ankle crossed to his left knee as he sipped from a cup of coffee, were exactly what Ben had expected.

Hoss wordlessly patted Adam on the shoulder and walked to the front door.

Joe rested his hands on Adam's right leg and didn't say a thing. Adam smiled with affection and said he was sorry if he had worried Joe when he hadn't shown up at the dance. The younger boy shrugged easily and said it was all right. Then he, too, walked to the front door.

"Coffee smells good," Hop Sing praised as he passed Adam. "You found fried chicken?"

Adam nodded. "Thank you, Hop Sing."

Hop Sing smiled, nodded, and pulled the front door closed behind him.

Only when the others were in the house, and when Ben paused by the bench, did Adam slump with fatigue.

"Maggie told me about Isabella, son."

Adam looked up and their eyes locked.

"You never would have let my mother go, would you?"

Ben sat on the left side of the bench and purposely studied the scenery in front of him. "Your situation with Isabella was very different from any I ever faced, Adam." Ben felt the dark blue eyes slide his way.

"When you asked my mother to marry you, did she ask you to give up the sea?"

So that was it. Adam had never worked past the fear that he would have to give up his dream of college and travel if he married Isabella. Ben leaned back and shook his head. "No, your mother did not ask me to give up the sea."

"But you did," Adam said.

"To say that I gave up the sea would mean that there was some sort of sacrifice involved."

"There wasn't?" the young man asked, his voice holding an element of surprise.

Adam was nearly twenty-two, old enough to understand what Ben said after a throaty chuckle. "I assure you there was nothing at sea as exciting as your mother."

His attempt to pull his son out of worrying over what couldn't be changed failed.

"What if -" Adam ran his hand through his hair. Elizabeth used to do the same thing, run slender, long fingers through auburn locks that never stayed where she wanted them. "What if she had made a promise to another man before she met you."

"She hadn't."

"But, what if she had," Ben's son insisted.

"Adam, 'what if' mires a man in the past."

The night breeze calmed and the pine trees ceased their sighing. Somewhere off to the right, an owl made its hollow, haunting call. The moon was huge, a luminous ball of white and pale purple.

"Pa, there are things I didn't tell you - about Isabella and me."

That was as it should be. "There are things I will never tell you about your mother and me," he quipped.

His joke had the desired result. Ben could hear the ease in his son's voice as Adam relaxed.

"Isabella told me that she didn't want to go - to Mexico. But she felt that she had to because of her promise to marry Bertito."

"If you had promised to marry someone and then your life had changed in ways you could not have imagined would you have still felt bound by that promise?" Ben replied.

"Until I explained to her my reasons for breaking the promise, yes."

Ben nodded. That was an honorable way to behave. More than likely it was the way Adam had expected Isabella to approach the problem, as well.

"When Isabella told me that she had promised to marry Bertito -" Adam raised his hands, palms side up.

Ben shifted on the bench, ready to leave Adam alone with his thoughts. But Adam cleared his throat.

"When she told me that she had promised to marry him, she wanted me to help her break that promise by asking her to marry me," he said.

Ben loosened his tie. "Is that why you didn't ask her to marry you?"

"No, I did."

"You asked Isabella to marry you?"

"I asked her to marry me when she returned from Mexico."

"When she -" Ben bit off the sentence and turned to Adam in disbelief. "Why did you ask her to marry you when she returned from Mexico? Why not before she left?"

"Because she wouldn't have gone." Adam lowered his voice. "And I wasn't ready."

The night air lost its heat, replaced by the damp promise of heavy dew in the morning. Ben hadn't heard a sound from the bunkhouse and the candlelight no longer spilled from the window.

After pulling his tie from under his shirt collar, Ben said, "From the moment that I met Elizabeth, I knew beyond a doubt that she was an incredible woman." He hoped what he was saying would help his son. "And I wanted to be by her side for the rest of my life."

"Is that how you knew it was love?" Adam sounded like a small child seeking comfort.

"Partly," Ben said with a nod.

"What was the rest?"

Ben smiled with the memory. "I would have given up anything for your mother, Adam." He rested his right hand on his son's left shoulder. "But she never would have asked me to."

Adam's eyes flickered with a thought. Now he was on the right road. Ben stood and bid his son goodnight. He wasn't at all surprised when Hoss passed him in the doorway, headed to the porch - and to Adam - carrying three apples.

The night air was so perfect that Ben left the front door open. He would close it before he went to bed - or wake up to find Zeke, Smoke, and Abigail and John Adams sleeping in the living room. He'd be darn lucky if Webster and Cochise didn't find a way in as well. Ben stretched his arm, indulged in a big yawn, and then decided to relax on the settee.

He was too tall to lay down on the wooden seat, but he could sit sideways and stretch his legs. Almost. When they had had the settee about three days, he had figured out that if he leaned on his right hip, and bent his left knee, he could rest his back against the corner. The position sounded dreadful but it had worked very nicely once he had gotten the hang of it.

After Ben was settled, he allowed his thoughts to wander. Adam would work things out. He had never run from anything. Adam understood that the hardest-learned lessons stayed with a man for the rest of his life. Those same lessons could strengthen a man if he allowed.

Between playing the fiddle and dancing and sitting outside lost in his thoughts, Ben hadn't had much time to eat anything. He suddenly found that he was hungry. Turning his head to the left, he cast a wishful eye at the apples in the bowl on the dining table. He debated on whether he was hungry enough to warrant the walk.

The last piece of wood in the fireplace broke in half. A flame shot up and then quickly died. The outside door to the bunkroom opened and closed. Probably Adam going to bed. No. More than likely it was Joe going out to sit beside Adam and Hoss.

Ben's stomach growled. Best to have an apple before bed. As he walked from the dining table back toward the settee, apple in hand, he stopped at the open doorway. Adam and Hoss were sitting on the front edge of the porch. They were in their pants. Adam had pulled out his shirttail. Hoss wore his long john top and was probably barefoot. It was a familiar scene - one he'd often smiled at when he'd found them sitting on the back steps in New Orleans, although back then they had worn nightshirts.

Now there was a grown, dark-haired son leaning his right shoulder against the porch post as he sat and bit into an apple; a tall, blond-haired son sitting next to him and chunking something at the dirt in front of him; and a small, long john-clad son sitting on a pillow at the end of the row. Zeke slept contentedly beside Smoke, behind Adam.

Sitting on a pillow, now that was interesting. Joe had sat on the wagon tailgate in town. He had ridden home in the wagon bed and shoved the blanket aside, insisting it was too hot to have anything underneath him. But now he needed a pillow?

Joe tended to go one of two ways when it came to spankings. He was either embarrassed and didn't want his brothers to know anything about the punishment or he milked it for all the sympathy they were willing to offer. Ben had a good idea what his youngest son was up to this time.

"Pa spanked me real hard. I mean real, real hard and those swats burned. Really, really burned - even through my britches." He gave a small sound of discomfort. "It still stings when I sit wrong." He wiggled around on the pillow.

Hoss reached behind the boy and helped him adjust the cushion between Joe's behind and the hard porch floor. "How's that?"

"'Bout as good as it'll get." Joe's sad voice was over-acting at its best. Ben would need to be sure that Joe didn't manage to get Hoss to do his chores in the morning.

Adam was wiser and less inclined to fall for Joe's ploys. "Be glad he didn't use his belt."

"For a dumb old haircut!" Joe exclaimed, forgetting his woes.

Ben's oldest son shook his head. "You know that isn't why he put you across his knees. You disobeyed him."

Joe looked down. "I kind of sassed him, too."

Hoss and Adam turned to Joe with looks of astonishment. "And you can sit?" Hoss demanded.

"Be very glad he didn't use his belt," Adam stressed.

After a moment's silence, Joe chomped into his apple. "Anyhow, that's how come I didn't move those horses with Aidan and Sean. I took that fried chicken to Miss Sterret like I told her I would."

Hoss was the one who looked over his shoulder and asked, "You ain't eavesdroppin' again, are ya Pa?"

The other two boys looked over their shoulders; their faces alight with wide grins.

Adam's brows rose in that silent way he had of asking, "Well?"

Joe stood and lifted his pillow.

Ben walked to the edge of the porch and sat beside Hoss. Joe threw his pillow to Hoss, who placed it behind him on the porch. Then the youngster easily sat across Ben's lap and took another crunchy bite out of his apple.

"Look there!" Hoss pointed above the pine trees.

A shooting star seared the darkness, leaving wonder in its wake. The boys looked at one another, smiled, and immediately returned their attention to the sky.

"Sure would hate to be steering a ship by that star," Ben observed dryly.

His sons groaned.

"It was just a thought," Ben defended.

"It wasn't worth sharin'," Hoss shot back.

Adam elbowed his brother good-naturedly.

"I'm real sorry Isabella married that other fella, Adam," Joe said. "She sure made a mistake."

Ben braced himself for his eldest son's silence.

"Why do you say that?" Adam asked.

Joe gave an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders. "'Cause she was your girl and all."

"I mean, why do you think she made a mistake?"

Ben's youngest son chomped on his apple, chewed, thought, and then said, "She just did, is all."

Adam smiled with bemusement. "So, how was the dance?" he asked Hoss.

"Tess and me had a kinda fallin' out."

The eldest brother turned his apple to an area that he hadn't eaten. "How do you have a 'kinda fallin' out'?"

"Real easy," Hoss said. "I asked Ruthie for a dance."

Adam forgot about his apple for the moment. "Ruthie?"

"Beth Parker's little sister. Well, not her real little sister. She's about my age. Ruthie, I mean. Not the real little sister."

Ben chuckled at Hoss' explanation and promptly choked on a bite of apple.

Joe leaned his head to look at his father and reminded, "Chew, Pa."

"I take it," Adam guessed, "that Tess didn't appreciate the fact that you asked Ruth-ie Parker for a dance."

Hoss made an aggravated face. "The thing was that Tess had done danced with Forrest Browne."

The way Adam startled caused Ben to wonder what he didn't know about Forrest Browne - and what he might need to know.

"He'll get tired of her," Adam predicted. "I haven't known him to be interested in a girl for more than a day at a time."

"I guess you're right," Hoss agreed. " 'Cause he no sooner quit dancin' with Tess than he had Beth in his arms." He ducked his head. "Just so you'll know, I told Beth you were sorry you couldn't make it to the dance but you had a bus'ness problem come up."

Adam praised his brother's creativity.

Hoss surveyed his apple for any leftovers. "Sounded a sight better than sayin' ya stood 'er up for a bull."

Joe laughed and splattered half-chewed apple everywhere.

Ben glanced Adam's way and wondered, not for the first time, at this son of his. Adam had been through an emotional drubbing today and he would no doubt feel the effects of it for some time to come. But here he sat, engaging in brotherly banter and gentle jokes.

And Hoss. Ben hadn't seen all Tess' temper tantrum but he had witnessed enough to respect Hoss' ability to handle a difficult situation.

Then there was Joseph. Ben had felt deep disappointment with Joe's behavior in the barn. A few hours later, Ben had been even more proud of his son than usual when the youngster decided to avoid involvement in Angus' sons' latest mischief.

Ben listened to the easy flow of the boys' conversation and noticed, with no small degree of humor, that not one of them was minding their own business.

He had a feeling that his sons wouldn't want it any other way.

The end