No Shortcuts

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.

Rating: G

This story follows "Lost and Found"

Thanks to Becky for guidance that far exceeded a beta read. Thanks to Slim for sharing his knowledge about firearms.

Adam Cartwright leaned his right arm on the saddle horn and absently patted Beauty’s neck. Once again he looked from far left to far right, taking in the unfamiliar scenery. There wasn’t a landmark he recognized. There hadn’t been anything to help him orient himself since noon. Since they’d started out on Hoss’ shortcut. "We're lost," he announced in a flat voice.

"We ain't lost," Hoss argued. When his older brother raised his right eyebrow, Hoss added. "We just don't know where we are."

"You're the one who said there was a shortcut."

Hoss reset his hat. "I said I heard about it from Big Dan. It ain't like I’ve been on the shortcut, Adam."

"Somehow you neglected to tell me that."

"You forgot to ask," he countered.

They both knew better than to continue the conversation. It would undoubtedly end in a fight, and Pa wasn’t along to break them up.

Pa. Adam closed his eyes. How would they explain this to Pa? The trip to pick up the new bull at the Eagle Ranch should take two days. One day to get there. One day to return home. Adam had ridden to the Eagle Ranch before when he had looked at the bull and bought it. But Adam had followed the trail and stayed close to the river. Adam hadn’t gone around telling folks that he knew a shortcut. Adam hadn’t wandered into this place that didn’t look like any place he’d ever seen before. And Adam would never, ever let Hoss lead the way again.

"We may as well stop for the night." He shot Hoss a look that dared argument. "I’ll pick the campsite."

Hoss waved his hand in invitation. "Go right ahead, brother."

This was going to be a long night beside the campfire.

"Did you bring anything to eat?" Hoss directed Chubb to walk beside Beauty.

"Of course I brought - " Adam frowned. "You didn’t?"

"I figured you’d bring enough for both of us. We knew we’d be a day there and a day back and you knew we’d be needing to eat."

"Me!" Adam slapped his chest. "Why is it always me? Just once can’t you take care of yourself?"

Hoss squinted his eyes and gritted his teeth. "I try, dangit. But every time I try to take care of me, then you bust in with all your big brother - "

"I do not bust in," Adam’s voice was full of indignation. "I haven’t busted in since - "

"The Ladies’ Choice Dance." Hoss jabbed his index finger in Adam’s direction. "Don’t you tell me you didn’t bust in. Don’t you do it, Adam."

"I was just trying to look out for you."

"You looked out for me so good that you busted up everything and then left me high and dry with no date and - "

"You wound up with Tess, didn’t you?"

"Only ‘cause you finally got straight with Isabella, and you had your mind on your own business and not mine."

Adam took a deep breath and counted to twenty. Why were they arguing about something that couldn’t be changed? "You’re right."

"And then there was the time you busted in when I was gonna fight bare knuckles."

Adam sat straight in the saddle and gaped at his younger brother. "I didn’t interfere in that fight. Pa’s the one that knocked the - "

"Don’t go playing all innocent with me." Hoss tilted his head to the right and gave Adam a side-of-the eyes warning. "You had to go readin’ them newspapers of yours and then tryin’ to get Frenchy to call off the fight and - "

"I was just trying to look out for you!" Adam yelled. Why couldn’t Hoss understand?

Hoss raised his chin, proud to once again prove his point. "See?"

His older brother pursed his lips. "See what?"

"You busted in again."

"I’m the oldest. It’s my job to bust in." Adam winced. Had he really said that? Glory, he sounded like a five year old.

"See!" Hoss exclaimed.

Adam felt himself sinking into a sullen pit. Not only were they lost, so was the conversation. "See what?"

"You don’t mind your own business like Pa’s always telling us to." Hoss was flush with triumph.

What was he talking about? "Since when have any of us minded our own business? If we minded our own business," Adam pointed out, "we wouldn’t stand a chance with Pa."

Hoss slowed Chubb and glanced toward a creek that had appeared out of a cluster of rocks on their right side. "You gonna talk until the stars are out, or are we gonna make camp?"

Adam shook his head. "I’ll find the camp."

Hoss gave the creek and the soft green grass and the sheltering trees a wishful look and then followed Adam.

+++

"Dang fine campsite you found." Hoss tried to make himself comfortable on one of the large, rounded granite rocks that were all around as far as the eye had been able to see when there’d still been daylight. "Dang old camp with rocks and no shelter and you had to go and forget anything to cook with and there ain’t nothin’ but dang old snakes to shoot for dinner."

Adam spoke through the hat he had put over his face to block the bothersome light of the moon. "We did not eat snake. We had biscuits and beans and apples for dinner."

"Cold biscuits and cold beans." Hoss was not to be consoled. "And river water that was all sandy and flat and - "

"I told you to let it settle in the cup, Hoss."

"I could let it set from now ‘til I got gray hair, and it ain’t gonna make that water taste like anything but - " Hoss considered the moon, frowned, and sat up. "Don’t the moon come up in the east?"

Adam came as close to snorting as his brother had ever heard.

"Yeah," Hoss said as he thought aloud. "The moon comes up in the east. Leastways it always did on the trail. So if the moon comes up over thataway, that’d be east. We had the moon to our - we was heading sorta southwest. Ain’t we supposed to be going southeast?"

Adam jerked his hat from his face and slammed it to the ground. "I traveled 2,000 miles without ever once losing direction. Now I’m a day’s ride from the ranch, and I don’t know where I am!"

There wasn’t really anything to say to that so Hoss kept quiet.

Adam rested his arm across his eyes. "Would you please put more wood on the fire?"

Hoss reached to his right, wrapped his big hand around a fair-sized branch, and tossed it across his body and into the fire. When the new piece of wood crashed into the fire, sparks flew everywhere.

"Blast it, Hoss!" Adam threw his hat aside and slapped at the embers that had landed on his pants legs.

"Them ain’t gonna hurt ya none," Hoss dismissed.

The firelight cast soft shadows on Adam’s face. His dark blue eyes narrowed. "You did that on purpose."

Hoss would not sit by and be accused of something he hadn’t done. "I done it ‘cause you told me to!"

"Sssh!" Adam held up his left hand and reached for the rifle beside him. "Did you hear that?"

"It ain’t gonna work, Adam. I ain’t some dumb kid that you can scare with a buncha made-up stories about ghosts and - "

Adam put his index finger to his lips. He slowly turned his head and even more slowly stood.

Hoss heard it that time. A low kind of growl, real soft-like. He grabbed his rifle and stood as slowly as Adam had, turning his head from left to right. "Whaddaya figure it is?" he whispered.

Adam leaned his head to the right and listened. His rifle arm went slack. "Water."

"Water! The last decent water around here was back at that rock creek."

His older brother turned on him like a hawk; a mean, aggravated hawk.

"What rock creek?" he asked softly.

Sometimes he sounded so much like Pa it was flat unbelievable.

Hoss motioned behind him. "Back there when you said you’d be the one finding us a camp."

Adam picked up his hat and beat it against his left leg. "Why didn’t you say something?" He jammed the hat on his head.

"Because you was tryin’ to look out for me." Hoss turned toward the sound. "I’m gonna see where that water is."

Adam grabbed his younger brother’s arm. "We need to go together."

Hoss trudged behind Adam, chafing at the way Adam was still trying to look out for him. "In case you ain’t noticed, I’m bigger than you. I’ve been bigger than you for a long time now, since I was eight or nine."

"Ten or eleven," Adam corrected without heat. "You’re bigger than Pa, too, but that doesn’t mean anything, either."

"Whaddaya mean it don’t mean nothing, either?"

Adam looked back and up at him and slowly answered, "I’ll always be your older brother."

"What’s that got to do with anything?"

"Forget it." Adam cautiously made his way across the rocky ground. The rushing sound of the water was closer.

"Forget what?" Hoss bellowed from behind him.

"Hoss, would you be quiet so I can hear where this is - " Adam let out a howl of surprise and disappeared from Hoss’ view. His rifle clattered nearby and half a second later there was a big splash followed by a smaller one.

"Ya find that water yet, big brother?"

Splash. Splash. Mutter. "Where’s my rifle?"

"It ain’t my rifle to keep up with," Hoss said in a singsong voice.

"Give me a hand!"

"I might if you was to ask real nice."

"Erik!"

"All right, all right. Keep your britches on."

"I plan to. It’s as cold as ice in this water."

Hoss squinted at where he’d last seen his older brother. He stepped forward slowly, quietly, as if he were hunting. "Where’s this rock shelf end?" His feet went out from under him, his rifle flew out of his hand, and he hit just about the coldest water he’d ever felt. He hit it smack on his behind and heard a yelp and then a bunch of blubbering.

Hoss struggled to his feet and shook water off his shirtsleeves.

"You nearly landed on me!" Adam had shouted so much he was losing his voice. He splashed around until he was close enough to Hoss that they could see each other.

"Dang." Hoss laughed. "You look like a drowned - "

Adam shivered and pushed past his brother. "Any idea where the rifles are?"

Hoss went as still as the air before a storm. "I thought you was kiddin’ about that."

"Joking about losing my rifle?" Adam demanded as he gained dry rock.

"You see mine?" Hoss waded toward Adam and what looked like a stretch of gravel riverbank.

"I don’t see anything!" Adam yelled and then coughed.

"You might wanna quit shoutin’," Hoss suggested. "Pa’s the only one that can do that all day and still talk at dinner."

"I am not shouting."

"Not now, you ain’t." Hoss stepped onto the gravel and fought for balance as the wet soles of his boots slid on the smooth surface. "You found them rifles yet?"

"Do I look like I found the rifles?"

"Cain’t tell down here in this hollow. There ain’t much moonlight."

"What do you mean this hollow?"

Hoss jerked his chin upwards. "See how all them rocks is blocking the sky?"

Adam let out a long, sad moan. "Where are we?"

"If it wasn’t for you stumblin’ around in the dark, we’d still be up there at camp and we’d be dry and we might be halfways asleep by now." Even in the dim light, Hoss could see that he’d pushed Adam about as far as his big brother was gonna be pushed. "I’ll get us some sticks outta that fire. We oughta be able to catch a glint off the rifles thata way."

Adam paced parallel to the river, back and forth across two rocks, slapping his arms across his chest in an effort to stay warm. A chill of a different sort went up his back when Hoss held up the two firebrands, peeked over the rocks, and asked, "You see Chubb and Beauty anywheres down there?"

"No, I don’t see Beauty - " Adam turned when his horse nickered in recognition of her name. He leaned toward the water and could discern two large shapes on a flat stretch of land across the river. "Beauty?"

Again the greeting.

"They’re down here," Adam answered Hoss’ question.

"In the river?" Hoss scrambled down the rocks and was lucky he didn’t take another quick dip in the icy water. He handed one of the makeshift torches to Adam.

Adam pointed. "Over there."

The brothers held the firelight above and to the sides of their heads. Hoss prayed the horses wouldn’t spook. They didn’t. They were too busy nibbling at the tender green grass.

"I think I’ll camp with Chubb if it’s all the same with you," Hoss quipped. As his brother stepped in front of him, Hoss broke into laughter.

"What’s so funny?" Adam was getting downright hostile.

"Your hat. Dang, Adam, that wet brim droops more than Pa’s does."

Adam did not join in the merriment. "I’ll put out the campfire and bring our gear. You look for the rifles."

Hoss found the rifles just about the time Adam slithered back down the rocks holding their saddlebags and hastily bundled bedrolls. "Uh, Adam?"

The older brother flung the possessions to the strip of gravel. "What?" He followed Hoss’ line of sight. There were the rifles under five, maybe six, feet of water in that clear-as-glass, cold-as-ice river. "You want to go for the saddles or rifles?" he asked numbly.

"I figure I’m bigger than you. I’ll get the saddles. Anyways, everybody knows you’re a better swimmer." Hoss put his hands on his hips as his brother pulled off his boots. "What’re you doing?"

"I’m taking my clothes off, what does it look like I’m doing?"

"But they’re already wet."

"There’s no reason they need to be even more wet, is there?" Adam snapped.

Hoss licked his lower lip. "Adam, you ain’t going down to the skin, are ya?"

Adam hopped around with one leg in his pants and one leg out and his hat flopping around his face. "Do I look like an idiot?"

Hoss decided not to answer that question. Best to go get the saddles.

When they had a nice campfire burning on the flat ground covered with the soft grass, the brothers huddled for warmth, their saddle blankets and untied bedrolls draped over their shoulders.

Hoss prided himself with the thought that he had been the one to suggest they camp back from the river - just in case it took a notion to rise in the middle of the night. He motioned to the two rifles that lay dead nearby. "How bad hurt do you figure they are?"

"I don’t want to think, Hoss. I want to be warm and asleep."

"You figure they’re hurt that bad, huh?"

"Yes."

"What’re we gonna tell Pa?"

"If we ever get home we’ll decide how much of this Pa needs to know."

"I don’t reckon Pa needs to know much of any of this. Is that what you reckon?"

Adam nodded glumly. "That is definitely what I - reckon."

Those rifles were nothing but bad luck. That’s what Hoss told Adam early the next morning when they were on foot, leading Beauty and Chubb, chewing on the last of the cold biscuits, and not minding where they were walking.

They were carrying the rifles - ‘though they would have been hard pressed for an answer if anyone had asked them why - when the ground gave way under Hoss. His arms went straight up and his rifle sailed to the right. Luckily the run-off gully that Hoss had stumbled into was only a couple of inches deep. Unfortunately there was a large crack in the dry earth where the rifle fell. Adam put down his rifle, leaned over, and said he never did hear Hoss’ weapon hit bottom.

"Sure am glad I didn’t go that way," Hoss said.

"You?" Adam shook his head. "I would have been the one to have to face Pa." Then he managed to show some concern for Hoss. "Are you all right?"

"Hurt my ankle."

"I guess that means we ride. Need help getting in the saddle?"

Hoss wondered just how big Adam thought he was. Help Hoss in the saddle. Who ever heard such nonsense? One step in Adam’s hand and that older brother would fall face down on the ground.

The only good thing to come of the last few minutes was that Hoss had hurt his right ankle. At least he didn’t have to put his weight on it to swing into the saddle. "Sure hope our pants are dry enough that our legs don’t get all - "

"We’ve been wet before." Adam lifted the reins over Beauty’s head.

"Yeah, but we didn’t have no choice," Hoss argued.

Adam peered up at him from the ground. "Do you see a choice now?"

Well, no, Hoss didn’t.

Adam put his left boot in the stirrup and forked his saddle, then pointed. "That’s the road to the Eagle Ranch down by that river in the sagebrush."

"Don’t look like no river to me," Hoss observed. "Just looks like a wide stream."

His brother sagged in the saddle. "Eagle Ranch calls it a river. Since we’re probably on their property now why don’t we call it a river, too?"

Hoss glanced around. "Ain’t nobody up here to hear us, Adam."

"Hoss will you do something for me?"

"Maybe."

"Will you quit sharing your thoughts with me? Just for an hour?"

"I don’t see why. Riding along all quiet don’t seem near as fast as when you’re riding along talk- Adam, would ya wait up?"

They were riding down out of the hills an hour later, letting Beauty and Chubb pick their way through the brush and rocks, when Adam’s horse spooked. Beauty was not a horse to shy but when she did shy she made up for all the times she hadn’t shied. Before Hoss’ disbelieving eyes, Beauty went up on her back legs, beating the air with her front hooves. Any other rider would have flown off her back and found himself in a lot of pain on the rocks. But Adam stuck to the saddle. He had to grab the horn but under the circumstances Hoss thought that was understandable. Adam worked Beauty back under control and kept her from bolting.

"Did you see anything?" Adam asked as Beauty’s front legs danced from the right to the left and back again on the rough ground.

Hoss shook his head.

"Did you hear anything that would have spooked her?"

Hoss said that no, he hadn’t.

"Did you smell anything?"

"You mean anything I ain’t been smellin’ all day?" Hoss wiped the smile off his face when Adam glared at him.

Being the good horseman that he was, Adam dismounted and looked Beauty over. He was bent, sliding his hand down the horse’s left front leg, when Hoss reined Chubb on Beauty’s other side.

Hoss rubbed at his eyes and looked again at the empty loop where Adam stowed his rifle off of Beauty’s saddle. "What’d you do with your rifle?"

Adam walked in front of Beauty so quickly it was a wonder she didn’t shy again. He pulled her around enough so he could see where his rifle wasn’t. Then he smiled up at Hoss. "What did you do with it?"

"Me? It’s your rifle. Leastways, it was your rifle."

"Come on, brother. I admit it. It’s a good joke. Now where’s the rifle?"

Hoss hated to spoil things but he never had been good at lying. "I don’t know."

His sincerity sobered Adam’s features. "You don’t know."

Hoss shook his head. "It didn’t fall out when Beauty r'ared up like she done ‘cause I would’ve seen it." An awful thought crawled into Hoss’ brain. "Adam? You did pick up your rifle, didn’t ya?"

Adam frowned. "When?"

"When you leaned over that big old crack in the ground where ya never heard my rifle hit bottom." Hoss knew the answer from the sick calf look on his older brother’s face.

"I forgot it."

Hoss waved his hand in the air. "Don’t matter none. Thing was prob’ly ruint anyhow." He saw Adam’s eyes rove back toward the hills. "Don’t even be thinkin’ it," Hoss warned. "That was when we was walkin’ along eatin’ breakfast. That’s the better part of a day’s ride back. ‘Sides, I ain’t sure we could find our way back there."

No one hated to admit he couldn’t do something more than Adam. His lips went as straight as Pa’s could sometimes.

"Adam," Hoss said slowly, praying that he could talk sense into his mule-headed brother. "We’re gonna go on to the Eagle Ranch now. We’re gonna borrow that special wagon they’ve got and we’re gonna put that bull in it. We’re gonna take that bull on home with us. And then that Carlton fella’s gonna come by our place and take that wagon on into town to pick up that freight for the Eagle Ranch. Remember?"

He didn’t want to, that was plain as the frown on his face. But Adam remembered all the plans. And Adam knew they were already a day late and two rifles short. He walked around Beauty and got in the saddle without a word. He clicked his tongue to signal Beauty to start walking. That was the last sound Adam made until they rode up to the Eagle Ranch.

+++

"Adam?" Matt Williams, the foreman, was about Pa’s age but he was smaller and his hair didn’t have any gray. He looked from Adam to Hoss and back to Adam after they had pulled Beauty and Chubb to a halt in front of the hitching post at the bunkhouse. "What are you doing here?"

Adam didn’t like what those words implied. "I’m here to pick up the bull." He remembered his manners and added, "Mr. Williams, this is my brother, Hoss."

Hoss tipped his hat and gave the man a smile.

Williams scratched his left cheek. "I sent Carlton and two men on their way to your place yesterday. Can’t figure how you didn’t see ‘em on the road."

Hoss looked down. Adam shifted in his saddle. "We took a shortcut," Adam said.

"I didn’t know there’s a shortcut." Williams eyed Adam with a healthy dose of disbelief.

"There isn’t," Adam and Hoss replied.

Williams leaned back on a support post in front of the door to the bunkroom. "Why don’t you boys have a bite to eat and rest for the night?"

Adam ran his hand across the stubble on his cheeks and chin. "We need to clean up."

The ranch foreman laughed. "Son, it’s just the three of us, my boy, and the cook." He beckoned with his left arm. "You boys go on inside. I’ll get Dade to tend your horses."

The offer was too good to pass up. Adam eased from the saddle, gave his legs a minute to steady, and then untied his saddlebags and bedroll. His pants had not been as dry as he had hoped; the insides of his legs were rubbed raw. He would have given anything for that soothing powder that Hop Sing made out of dry rice. Hoss walked stiffly beside Adam toward the front door, taking pains to keep his legs far apart.

The bunkroom was a long narrow adobe building with deep, recessed windows. As they stepped over the threshold and into the cool interior, two rows of beds more basic than the ones Adam and Hoss had at home stretched to their right. In front of them was an open area where a simple table and a dozen chairs nestled by a fireplace. The empty fireplace was rounded in shape and built into the corner of the room.

"Make yerselfs ta home, boys."

Adam and Hoss turned to the left. A short, thin man with a face that was hard to see for the wrinkles gave them a welcoming smile.

"Name’s Elijah. I feed the fellas around here."

The brothers pulled off their hats and walked toward him with their right hands extended to shake.

"Adam Cartwright, sir. My brother, Hoss."

Elijah shook their hands with a strong grip. He pointed toward the end of the room. "Them last two bunks on that side ain’t being used by nobody. You boys eat yet?" He closed one eye as he considered their appearance.

"No, sir," Hoss answered. "We’d be glad for anything you might have left over."

"Left over, he says!" Elijah laughed. "You two go stow yer gear. Dinner’ll be ready ‘fore too long."

"Thank you, sir," Adam said.

"Son, I’m Elijah. Only ‘sirs’ around here is Mr. Buchanan on account of he owns the place and Matt on account of he runs the place."

Adam shared a smile with Hoss. "It may be a hard habit to break, s - Elijah."

The old man leaned his head back. "I reckon your ma’s done a right good job with both of ya." He waved his hands. "Go on, yer keepin’ me from my cookin’."

Hoss led the way to the last two bunks on the right side of the aisle. He laid his bedroll on the foot of one, and then lifted his saddlebags off his shoulder. "Well, dang," he said.

Adam raised his eyebrows in silent question as he lowered his saddlebags to the foot of the bunk beside Hoss’.

"I packed me an extra shirt," the younger brother announced. "Forgot all about it ‘til now." He worked with one saddlebag buckle. "Sure wish I’d brought a extra pair of some other things."

"So do I," Adam agreed. He quickly added, "I mean, I wish I had brought an extra pair of some other things, too."

Hoss’ smile brightened his eyes. "What you need is a new hat."

The older brother sat on his bunk and turned his limp hat in his hands. "What I need is to start this trip over."

"Figure we’ll laugh about it some day?" Hoss sat across from him.

Their eyes met and the smiles started. "Eventually, yes," Adam conceded.

Elijah’s cooking was better than Adam had expected, but then Adam was so hungry he would have eaten anything the man had put in front of him, short of raw meat or carrots. Platters of food were scattered across the tabletop between Hoss, Adam, Elijah, Mr. Williams, and Mr. Williams’ son, Dade.

As he enjoyed bites of green beans, tender beef, and rice that had a smoky, tomato taste, Adam spared glances at Mr. Williams’ son. The boy looked about Joe’s age but that was where any similarities ended. He had pale blond hair and deep brown eyes - and he was quiet. Adam wondered if Dade could talk until the boy asked Hoss to pass something that neither Cartwright saw on the table.

Hoss leaned toward Dade. "The what?"

Elijah motioned with his fork. "He means the cactus there."

Adam and Hoss exchanged confused looks. "The cactus?" Adam asked.

Mr. Williams lifted the bowl of thin cut green beans. "This."

The brothers lowered their eyes to their dishes.

Hoss poked at the green beans next to his rice. "Them is cactus?"

Adam accepted the bowl from Mr. Williams and passed it to Dade.

"Thank you, sir," the boy said.

Sir, Adam mused. Someone Joe’s age calling him ‘sir’ was as disconcerting as when a stranger addressed him as ‘Mr. Cartwright.’ The few times that had happened, Adam had turned looking for Pa.

"I noticed you don’t have your rifles." Mr. Williams poured a second cup of coffee.

"They - uh - " Hoss looked across the table to Adam for help.

"We lost them in an accident," Adam said.

Williams grinned at Elijah. "I’d hate to think you lost ‘em on purpose." He shifted in his chair and pushed his plate to one side. "It’s not safe to travel in this country without some sort of weapon."

"Yes, sir," Adam agreed, keeping his eyes on his food.

"You don’t have a pistol or anything, do ya?"

Adam shook his head and then caught himself. "No, sir."

Williams scooted his chair away from the table and took long strides toward a wooden chest behind Adam. "I don’t suppose Miguel would mind, do you, Elijah?"

Adam and Hoss turned their attention to Elijah.

"Heck, he weren’t much younger than this big boy here." He nodded at Hoss.

Adam saw Hoss’ eyes widen. Then he found out why.

"It’s a nice rig," Williams said as he laid a pistol, holster, and holster belt beside Adam’s plate. "Miguel was a fine boy and I’m sure he’d like for you to have it."

Adam slid his left hand along the tooled black leather belt, across the black leather holster, to the smooth handle of the revolver. "Where is he now?" he asked of Miguel.

Elijah shook his head. "Took him a notion to be a padre."

Hoss held his fully loaded fork in mid-air. "A priest?"

Williams leaned back in his chair. "He was always a quiet one. Then one day he told me he was going to a mission in California to be a priest."

Hoss was so astonished that he forgot his fork was on its way to his mouth. "He was goin’ all the way to California and he wasn’t takin’ a gun?"

Elijah placed his empty coffee cup in the middle of his almost empty plate. "Said he trusted in the Lord."

"So do I," Williams agreed. "But I happen to think the Lord expects us to help Him out."

Adam inched the gun away from his plate. "I can’t accept this, Mr. Williams."

"And you can’t head home unarmed, either. I’d loan you a rifle but I don’t have any to spare. All that’s left –" he flashed a smile at his quiet son "- is Dade’s slingshot."

"You oughta see our little brother," Hoss enthused. "He’s a crack shot with one of them slingshots."

"What’s he make ‘em out of?" Dade asked softly.

Hoss laughed good-naturedly. "Joe don’t do anything he don’t have to. Pa makes ‘em for ‘im. He works on ‘em in front of the fire at night when Joe needs a new one." Hoss tilted his head to the right. "Come to think of it, Joe ain’t needed a new slingshot in a long time, Adam. Wonder why that is?"

"I don’t think I want to know."

Dade licked his lips. "Do you have a lot of brothers?" he asked Hoss.

"Just that one." Hoss pointed his fork at Adam. "And then a half pint at home. He’s about your age, I figure."

"Does he go to school?"

"School?" Hoss repeated. "He did back when our ma taught in Eagle Station but there ain’t no teacher now."

"What about your ma?" Dade asked.

Adam gave the boy a gentle look so he would know he hadn’t said anything wrong. "Our ma - died last year."

"Mine, too. She got cholera. Is that what happened to yours?"

"Dade." Williams shook his head at his son.

"It’s all right, sir," Hoss assured. "Our ma was killed in a accident in Eagle Station."

"Sorry," Dade replied and returned his attention to his meal.

"Adam," the foreman said firmly. "I won’t feel right letting you ride out of here tomorrow without that pistol."

"Miguel’d be right proud for someone like you to wear it," Elijah concurred.

Adam wondered how Mr. Williams and Elijah could be so sure. "Why is that?"

The cook gave Adam a long study. " ‘Cause you ain’t the kind to use it for wrong."

"How do you know that?"

Elijah stood and picked up his dish. "Son, I got where I’m pretty good at figurin’ out a fella at first look." He laughed and then added, "How d’ya think I got ta be this old?"

After dinner, Mr. Williams and his son excused themselves to retire to their cabin, next to the bunkhouse. Adam and Hoss cleared the table and walked to the still-hot kitchen.

Elijah nervously sidestepped around the small room. "What are you two doin’?" he demanded

Adam rolled up his sleeves and then poured hot water from the kettle into the cool water in the round metal basin. "Washing the dishes."

"And drying them." Hoss grabbed a piece of cloth from a hook over the stove.

Elijah waved his arms in the air and protested, "This here’s my kitchen!"

"Yes, sir," Hoss said amiably. "And like I already told you, you’re a mighty fine cook."

"Ain’t no one comes in here but me."

Hoss took the first clean dish from Adam’s hand and briskly rubbed it down with the dry rag. "We’re used to helping out. And it’d be rude to accept your hospitality without reciprocatin’."

Adam fumbled a dish and almost broke it. He blinked at Hoss, wondering if he had heard correctly.

His brother jauntily tossed his head. "You ain’t the only one that knows them big words."

"Well, it ain’t no business of mine whether you boys go re-cip-ro-catin’ or not. I figure that’s somethin’ a fella keeps to hisself. But this here kitchen is my bus’ness and you ain’t got no bus’ness in it." Elijah stood his ground behind, and between, the Cartwrights. " ‘Sides, ya don’t know where nothin’ goes."

Hoss handed him three dry plates. "I reckon that’s where you come in, sir."

Elijah sputtered about what the world was coming to but he turned around and stacked the plates in an open cupboard.

"If’n I was your pa," he started on a soliloquy that caused Hoss and Adam to slowly smile. "If’n I was, I’d put a coupla strong ones like you busy to tendin’ cattle, and fixin’ fences, and ridin’ the line, and bustin’ broncs, and stowin’ hay, and fixin’ things around the place, and shoeing the horses, and puttin’ together the busted bridles, and if’n you had some time on yer hands then I’d put ya to cleanin’ the stalls, and feedin’ the horses, and coolin’ ‘em out, and - " He paused to think what he could have possibly forgotten.

"Tendin’ the outhouse," Hoss volunteered.

"And don’t forget hunting," Adam added. "And dressing the meat and then hanging it in the smokehouse."

Hoss snapped his fingers. "And then there’s churning the milk and puttin’ the butter in the icehouse."

"Icehouse!" Elijah shouted. "What in blue blazes is a icehouse?"

"It ain’t built outta ice, if that’s what you’re thinking," Hoss advised. "It’s kinda like a shed that’s built over a real deep hole. What ya do is you cut ice off the lake in the winter. You haul it to the icehouse and you cut the ice into blocks and you store it in the icehouse and you put straw or something like that between the blocks. Ya put one row of blocks on top of another and you have ice smack in the middle of summer."

"To make iced cream." Adam winked at Hoss.

"Iced what?" Elijah demanded. "What kinda outfit do you run up there at your place? Good strong boys washin’ dishes and haulin’ ice to some contraption of a buildin’ and makin’ iced - iced - "

"Cream," Adam offered. "You take cream and sugar and some vanilla - "

"Mexican vanilla’s the best." Hoss nodded his head for emphasis.

"Sometimes you mix in eggs," Adam continued, passing a cup to Hoss. "And then you pour the mixture into a metal cylinder. You place the metal cylinder in a bucket of ice. Then you put the lid on the cylinder and every few minutes you lift the lid and stir the cream with a wooden spoon."

"Or," Hoss said as Elijah drew in breath to speak, "if ya want that iced cream a little faster you take turns twirlin’ that metal pipe around in the ice."

"Cylinder," Adam corrected.

"Whoever heard of such as that?" Elijah demanded. He placed the dry cups on the shelf beside the dry plates. "You mean to tell me that with all you got to do of a day you still got time to go messin’ with cream and vanilla and ice? Your pa don’t keep you workin’ enough, is what I say."

Adam laughed. "Believe me, s - Elijah, our pa thinks hard work is next to godliness."

Hoss gave the cook a handful of dry forks. "You’re better off if Pa don’t find you with idle hands before dark."

"Even then, he’ll find jobs to do - like cleaning out the candle lanterns," Adam assured.

"And bringin’ firewood in," his younger brother said. "And helpin’ Hop Sing with anything he needs."

"Hop what?" Elijah tossed the flatware into a wooden box. The clatter filled the small room.

"Hop Sing," Adam answered. "He’s a friend of ours."

"And he’s a fine cook, too," Hoss offered his opinion. "He knows more about healing than most doctors. That comes in nice considerin’ that Eagle Station ain’t got a doctor. We’ve got someone who can build caskets, though. He sells a couple a day because of all the shootin’ and knifin’ and things that go on there in that other part of town."

"What other part of town you talkin’ about?" Elijah gave up trying to establish that the kitchen was his domain. He leaned in the doorway to the bunkroom. "There ain’t but one part of town."

The brothers laughed in spite of themselves.

"There’s a slightly safer area," Adam answered. "Down the street from Shelby’s Saloon where the Trading Post and the Boarding House are."

"Eagle Station’s got itself a boardin’ house?" Elijah was flabbergasted by the news. "When’d that happen?"

Hoss turned from the counter. "When’s the last time you were in Eagle Station?"

The cook looked at the ceiling. "Back in ’45, best I can recall."

Adam’s younger brother spoke slowly and kindly. "It’s changed a bit since then, sir."

"Not enough," Adam said.

"I’ll be hanged." Elijah reached back to a chair at the table and slowly sat. "Town’s done got itself a boardin’ house. Next thing ya know there’ll be a bank."

Adam shook his head at Hoss. He wasn’t sure how much shock the old man could handle in one day.

Hoss lay on his bed and waited for Elijah to close the door between the small kitchen and the cook’s equally small bedroom. When Hoss heard the mournful creak of the dry hinges he spoke to his brother. "You takin’ that pistol?" He rested his hands behind his head.

"I plan to, yes."

Oh, lordy. Hoss closed his yes. "What’re you gonna tell Pa?"

"The truth."

Hoss’ blue eyes flew open. "All of it?"

"Of course not," Adam scolded. "Only as much as we have to."

"We?"

"Hoss, Pa does know that you made this trip with me."

"There ain’t no way I’m sayin’ nothin’ to him about that pistol," came the solemn vow in the darkness.

"I’ll talk to him."

"You dang sure will. And I ain’t gonna be nowhere near."

Adam rubbed his forehead. "You probably will be. I plan to tell him as soon as we get home."

Hoss was on to what Adam was thinking. "While he’s still glad to see us in one piece."

"Before he tears us into pieces," Adam corrected.

Hoss moaned. "This is ‘bout the worst trouble we’ve ever been in."

His older brother laughed, paused, and laughed again.

"Ain’t nothing funny about being in trouble with Pa," Hoss reminded as he sat up.

Adam rolled to his right side and leaned on his elbow. In the wash of moonlight that filtered through the recessed window, he grinned at Hoss. "This is far from the worst trouble I’ve ever been in with Pa." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.

Hoss eyed him curiously but remained quiet. He wasn’t surprised when Adam unwrapped the belt from around the holster. Adam looked at the weapon as if it could tell him something and then slowly slid the belt around his pants waist, letting the right side drop down so the holster lay against his leg. Hoss figured it would be a miracle if that belt wasn’t too big for Adam. Then he remembered that they had said the boy Miguel had been about seventeen. That was right about the age when Adam’d quit growing. Sure enough, Adam had to use the last hole in the belt to make it as small as it could get, but the thing fit.

"How’s it feel?" Hoss wondered if Adam knew what he looked like, standing there barefoot in his pants and long john top with that holster resting against his leg.

Adam’s smile was hesitant, as were his words. "Odd. My leg is - heavy, off balance."

"What kind is it?"

The older brother grasped the handle and pulled the gun free of the holster. He rested the barrel in the palm of his left hand. "Paterson Colt." Adam hefted it.

"How far do you figure it can shoot?"

"Don’t know," Adam answered.

Hoss lowered his voice. "You gonna ask Pa to teach ya?"

Adam looked up in surprise.

"Remember when Joe and me seen him shoot them bottles out there on the edge of town that night? He’s good, Adam. And he’s fast."

After taking off the belt, Adam laid it on the foot of the bed and sat opposite Hoss. "That’s what I don’t understand."

"Why’s that?"

Adam took a deep breath. "How can he be that good without practicing?"

"Maybe he’s even better when he does practice," Hoss said.

Adam rested his hands against the mattress on either side of him. "Where do you think he learned how to shoot like that?"

"You’re the one that’s known him longest."

Adam shook his head. "I don’t remember ever seeing him- " He stopped and rolled his eyes to his younger brother.

"What?" Hoss sensed that Adam knew something important.

Adam looked to the side as he thought. "Back when you were a baby, you were maybe a year old, and we were staying in Missouri - before we went down to Louisiana - " He waited until Hoss nodded that he understood. "We were staying in a boarding house. The town wasn’t as rough as Eagle Station, but it wasn’t very civilized, either."

"And?"

"There was a man." Adam frowned. "I think he traded on the Santa Fe Trail. I know Pa didn’t like him."

"That ain’t good," Hoss said dryly.

"There was trouble one day. You were asleep. I was supposed to be watching you, but I heard shouting in the street and one of the voices was Pa’s."

Hoss leaned back. "Shouting?"

Adam clasped his hands. "I opened the door and peeked out."

"Lucky thing Pa didn’t catch ya."

"Who said he didn’t?"

They were quiet long enough to hear the horses milling around in the corral.

It was kind of funny, Hoss thought, how somewhere along the way they’d quit telling ghost stories and mischief at bedtime and taken to talking about what’d happened that day or something they remembered from a long time ago. He shifted. "You gonna tell me the rest?"

Adam licked his lower lip. "Pa and the man and four others were arguing in the street." Adam slowly shook his head. "I didn’t even know Pa had a pistol. It’s lucky for us that he did because the man raised his arm and pointed a pistol straight at Pa. But before he could fire- Pa was holding a pistol. Pa fired and the other man’s pistol flew from his hand. There was blood all over his sleeve. Pa eased his arm down and turned his back even though the man still hadn’t fired his pistol." Adam finished with a quick, "And that’s when Pa saw me."

"What happened then?"

Adam laughed softly. "I slammed the door and ran to the bed, and crawled under it, and held my breath."

The surprise of his brother’s confession caused Hoss to choke. "You what?"

Adam nodded his head sheepishly. "I thought he wouldn’t find me."

Hoss laughed loudly.

Adam held his index finger and thumb three inches apart. "I could see about that much between the floor and the edge of the blanket on the bed. The door opened and I saw Pa’s boots."

"Dang, Adam."

"He stopped in the middle of the room. I suppose he was looking for me - and making sure you were okay. Then those boots walked closer and closer."

"What happened then?"

"Those boots stopped almost at the bed. And then a big hand reached in and grabbed me by the back of my neck."

"Did ya holler?"

It was Adam’s turn to laugh. "What do you think?"

"I would have peed my pants," Hoss admitted.

"Did I say I didn’t?"

Their laughter bounced off the walls. The brothers quickly looked around and then leaned toward each other.

Adam lowered his voice. "Back then Pa didn’t talk to me before he - well - you know."

"Yeah," Hoss assured.

"He pulled me from under the bed by the back of my neck. Then he wrapped his arm around me. He hauled me kicking and yelling to one of the chairs at the table, and then he flipped me across his lap and thinned the bottom of my pants until I’m sure they shined." Adam pointed at Hoss’ chest. "And you never even woke up."

Hoss shrugged. "Wasn’t much I could’ve done to help."

Adam delivered a genial slug to Hoss’ shoulder.

"So that’s the only time you saw Pa shoot a pistol?" Hoss laced his fingers together, turned his palms toward Adam, and popped his knuckles.

A giggle like the ones Hoss used to hear when Adam and he had been kids came out of his older brother. "No, there was one other time."

Hoss frowned. "When’s that?"

Adam swung his legs onto the bunk and lay on his back. "When Pa shot Joe’s rattlesnake."

"Elmer," Hoss said. "Now that was an outright mess. Remember how Pa tossed that snake outta that box, and then he just blasted that snake to bits?"

Adam closed his eyes and rubbed at them with the heels of his hands. "I can still hear Joe yelling at Pa not to shoot Elmer. And then Pa getting still and lowering his voice and asking Joe why he had called the snake ‘Elmer.’"

Hoss guessed they were tired, and that’s why they were laughing and giggling so much. He followed Adam’s example and lay back on the bed. "And then Joe jumped from the pan into the fire when Pa took him into the wagon. Pa told Joe how he could’ve been bitten by that rattlesnake, and then he asked Joe to quit callin’ the snake Elmer, and Joe’s temper just boiled up and he yelled, ‘Well what do you want me to call him? Abraham or Isaac or Jacob?’ And then we could hear Pa’s hand smacking Joe’s bottom somethin’ awful."

Adam took a deep breath when he finally stopped laughing. "And that’s when you and I found something to be busy with before Pa came out of that wagon."

Hoss resumed his earlier position with his hands under his head. "So you gonna ask Pa to teach you how to fire that pistol?"

"Yes."

"Night, Adam."

"Good night."

Hoss sighed deeply. This way, what Adam said was the right way to go home, wasn’t pretty. There on the other side of the trail was a nice river with sand along the banks every so often. Adam said it was the same river that ran along by Eagle Station. He also said no one had ever known it to go dry. Broadleaf trees formed a windbreak from time to time. The sagebrush was tall enough to hide a man, a horse, and half of town. But Hoss was beginning to understand that he was more at home in the mountains and the hills where there was pine and juniper, and a person could still see a long way but it was just more interesting somehow.

"Sure am glad Ma and Pa didn’t take a shining to this place," Hoss remarked to Adam’s back as they rode single file.

His older brother laughed and turned in the saddle. "What would you say if I told you we can buy some of it?"

Hoss waved his arm in an arc. "Why would we want this?"

"The river."

"We got all the water a body could want already, Adam," he argued.

"We could graze the cattle down here. It doesn’t get as cold in the winter."

"Well I ain’t moving down here just to get away from some little old snow," Hoss vowed, sitting straight to stress his message.

"You call snow twenty feet deep little? Thunder, Hoss, what does it take to impress you?"

"It ain’t pretty down here."

"It’s nice in its own way."

Hoss shook his head, belligerence rising. "Since you think it’s so all-fired nice then when we get it you can come down here and take care of it."

Adam leaned his head back and laughed, which called Hoss’ attention to what sat perched up there on his brother’s dark hair.

"That hat looks downright pitiful, Adam. You wanna go into town and get you a new one?"

"All I want to do is get home, shave, take a bath, and eat one of Hop Sing’s wonderful dinners," came his answer.

"And tell Pa about the pistol," Hoss reminded.

"That, too."

"Are you really gonna do it?" An unmistakable whine wove its way into Hoss’ voce.

"I am really going to do it, yes."

"You’re just gonna go and spoil everything, ya know that."

Adam stood in the stirrups and then scooted back in the saddle. "Oh, I think we’ve already spoiled a few things. Can you imagine what Pa thought when those men from Eagle Ranch drove up with the bull?"

"Yeah."

"And can you imagine what he’ll think when we show up without our rifles?"

Hoss’ stomach turned. "You sure know how to spoil a fella’s day, Adam."

They turned Chubb and Beauty toward the hills and mountains that rose to a cloudless sky. The sun felt so good and the familiar, lung-clearing smell of pine was so welcome, that Hoss couldn’t feel bad for long. Maybe things would go smooth with Pa. There was always a first time.

The area around the house was so quiet when Hoss and Adam rode up the meadow that Adam wondered at first if they were astoundingly lucky and the rest of the family was gone for a while. Then he noticed the smoke coming from the dining room chimney. And he heard Joe yelling at Zeke to come out from under the porch - now.

Joe gave his brothers a quick look when they dismounted and then went down on his hands and knees to peer under the raised portion of the porch floor by the side steps.

Hoss led Chubb into the barn, followed closely by Adam holding Beauty’s reins.

"Boys," Pa said as he stood by the worktable.

"Hey, Pa." Hoss stopped so suddenly that Adam bumped into Chubb’s hip.

Adam walked around Chubb’s backside and tipped his hat. "Pa."

The brothers led their horses into their respective stalls and loosened the saddles. Pa turned back to the worktable; from the sounds of it he was sorting nails and horseshoes. Hoss and Adam unsaddled their horses, groomed them, and poured feed in the troughs. Not until Adam stepped away from the stall, hoping Pa wouldn’t notice they didn‘t have their rifles, did Pa lean his left elbow on the tabletop and motion with the hammer in his right hand. "What happened to your hat, Adam?"

This was not the way Adam wanted to start his conversation with Pa. "It - got wet."

"Did you have rain down there?"

"Uh - no."

"It didn’t rain." Pa laid down the hammer.

"No."

Pa spoke again. "Where are your rifles?"

Hoss gave Adam a wide-eyed look filled with panic.

"We - don’t have them," Adam answered, avoiding facing his father so he wouldn’t have to watch the blue eyes narrow with suspicion.

"I can see that." When neither Hoss nor Adam offered a response, Pa cleared his throat. "I’m waiting."

"We lost them," Adam admitted.

"Lost them?"

"Just one," Hoss blurted out. He walked toward Pa, his palms up as if he were seeking a favor. "Mine flew in the crack when I hurt my ankle."

Pa spared a concerned look at Hoss’ boots. "The crack?"

"Yes, sir, Pa." Hoss flung his arms as far apart as he could. "It was a big old crack."

Adam leaned his forehead against a post by the stall and wished Hoss would just get quiet. The more irritated Pa got, the harder Adam’s talk with Pa was going to be.

"A big old crack," Pa repeated. "Where was this big old crack?"

"In the ground," Hoss answered easily. "It was right there beside the gully I stepped in."

"The gully."

"Yes, sir. And you know, Adam never did hear it hit bottom."

Pa closed his eyes a moment and rubbed his forehead. "He never heard the gully hit bottom."

Hoss laughed. "No, Pa. He never heard my rifle hit bottom. Sure am glad I didn’t fall in that big old crack."

Sure wish I had, Adam thought. He braced himself for what he knew would be the next question.

"And where is your rifle, Adam?"

Adam draped the saddlebags, one of which was bulging and unbuckled, over his left arm and turned to face Pa. "It’s by Hoss’ rifle."

"Yours fell in the crack, too?"

"Uh - no." Adam slowly stepped forward.

"It’s by the crack," Hoss volunteered.

"By the crack." Pa crossed his arms at his chest.

"Yes, sir." Hoss nodded toward Adam. "He kind of forgot it."

Adam slammed his eyes shut.

"Kind of forgot it." Pa took in a deep breath that Adam knew meant Pa was counting, hopefully to a hundred. "How do you kind of forget your rifle, son?"

Adam had to make this sound convincing. He opened his eyes and prayed for the most sincere look he had ever given Pa. "I was so worried about Hoss that - "

"He was tryin’ to look out for me, Pa."

"I see."

Adam was worried to the bone that Pa really did see. Best to get this over with. "Pa, I need to talk to you about something."

Pa nodded. "Yes, you do. The Eagle Ranch men brought the bull the same day that you left. Would you like to tell me why you didn’t meet them on the road?"

Hoss looked down and kicked at the straw. "It was my fault."

Adam whirled so quickly toward his brother that he felt dizzy.

Pa stumbled slightly as he crossed his boots. "Your fault."

"Yes, sir. We took this shortcut that Big Dan was talking about."

Pa turned his head to one side. "I didn’t know there was a shortcut to the valley."

"There isn’t," Adam and Hoss said.

"Oh," Pa said. "I see."

Adam was certain Pa did.

"So this - shortcut - delayed your arrival at the Eagle Ranch."

"Yes, Pa." Adam finally met Pa’s eyes.

The man still had his arms crossed but he pointed his right index finger toward Heaven. "I want to be sure I understand this. You took a shortcut that wasn’t there. You lost one rifle and forgot the other. And your hat got wet but it didn’t rain."

Hoss shoved his hands in the front pockets of his pants. "That’s about it."

"So you rode home without any weapon for protection?"

"No, sir," Adam answered.

Pa’s eyebrows rose. "Would you like to explain that?"

Eager to help, Hoss leaned forward. "Adam’s got a pistol, Pa."

Adam’s shoulders failed him. Of all the ways to tell Pa -

"A pistol," Pa said slowly.

"Yes, sir," Hoss continued as cheerfully as if they were discussing a bright, spring day. "A priest gave it to him."

Pa’s arm went straight as he pointed at Hoss and demanded of Adam, "What is your brother talking about?"

Adam cleared his throat and took two tentative, small steps toward his father. "I wanted to speak to you about this - my way." He frowned at Hoss. "But now that you know - " He lifted the flap on the open saddlebag and pulled the holster belt and revolver into view. Adam immediately offered it to Pa, who took it and turned it in his hands.

"This belonged to a priest?"

Hoss stood beside Pa. "Well, see, he wasn’t a priest, not yet."

Pa spoke with deliberate patience. "May Adam and I discuss this alone, please?"

"Yes, sir." Hoss lowered his head and hustled from the barn.

Adam knew what was expected. Pa wanted the story, and he wanted it short. "Mr. Williams gave me the pistol because he didn’t have any extra rifles, and he didn’t want us to ride home without a weapon. That," he said as he motioned to the revolver in Pa’s hands, "belonged to a boy named Miguel. He worked for the Eagle Ranch until he left to become a priest. He gave the pistol to Mr. Williams."

"Do you plan to return it?"

"No, sir."

Adam continued to look Pa in the eyes. They had disagreed about the need for a sidearm for three years. He had backed down before, but he was nearly twenty-two now - he was a man - and Pa had reared him to stand up for what he believed. He respected Pa’s opinion even though he disagreed with it. Adam hoped Pa would respect his decision. Man to man.

Pa handed the pistol back to Adam. "You know what I think about guns, son."

"Yes, sir. And you know what I think."

Pa gave the briefest of nods. "Yes, I do." He lowered his head and leaned both hands on the table edge.

Adam placed the gun and saddlebags on the tabletop.

"I hope you never have to use this against another human." Pa rested his hand on the gun handle.

The image of Mr. Covington’s face rose before Adam’s eyes.

"I don’t agree with your decision - " Pa said.

"Sir - "

Pa pulled his head back and closed his eyes. Adam looked to the side.

"I don’t agree," Pa repeated. "But you’re old enough to understand the consequences of your actions. And I will respect your decision to wear a gun."

Adam should have felt relief, but none came. Instead he fought back tears he hadn’t expected and didn’t understand. Hadn’t Pa just acknowledged that he respected Adam’s decision even though he disagreed with it? Why was there no sense of accomplishment? Maybe because Adam knew how hard those words had been for his father to say. All his life Pa had preached against violence and now -

Adam took a short, jerky breath as insight blazed through his thoughts. Pa strived to avoid violence, that was true. But back on the trail, when Mr. Davis had taken a whip to Adam, Pa had landed a fist that had knocked the man unconscious. And Pa had flattened Iron Hand Malloy when Pa had been afraid that the boxer would hurt Hoss. From what Joe had told Hoss and Adam, Pa had held a revolver to Pritchett’s head when the murderer had taken Joe hostage. Adam had clear memories, although he would never tell Pa, of his father pointing a knife at the man’s throat in the alley that night. Adam’s thoughts raced: Pa ripping the rifle from Tragg’s hands when their neighbor had threatened Adam; Hoss’ story of sitting tied to a tree while he had watched Pa shoot Jorge; and the angry heat that had come off Pa when he had told the slaver that nobody threatened his boy. Pa knew how to shoot a weapon. Pa knew how to use a knife. But every time he had done so, it had been to defend those he loved.

Despite what Adam had thought at the time, Pa had understood when Adam had insisted that he had needed a gun after the scare at Holstrom’s. Pa had understood that Adam had been alarmed that he had been unable to protect Joe. After all, Pa had been guarding one son or the other for nearly twenty-two years.

What Pa had known that day, and what Adam had needed to learn, was the difference between revenge and justice. Joaquin had taught him that. And Pa had wanted Adam to understand the unyielding responsibility he assumed when he shot a man. Covington had seen to that.

All this time their disagreement hadn’t been so much about guns; Pa had been waiting for Adam to mature. Pa had known that the road to manhood was a long one, and there was danger in taking shortcuts.

"Pa."

"Yes."

"I would appreciate it if you would teach me how to use that revolver."

Pa pushed away from the worktable and put his hands on either side of his hips. "What makes you think I’m the one to teach you?"

"I remember in Missouri, when you shot that man." Adam spoke softly. "Hoss and Joe told me about when you shot those bottles outside town that night." He watched Pa nod. "And I remember watching you aim that gun, and how accurate you were, when you killed Elmer."

Pa raised his head so quickly that Adam flinched. "You knew Elmer?"

Adam blinked rapidly at the change in subject. "Briefly."

"Who in thunder was Elmer?"

The humor of the situation struck Adam and he laughed louder than usual. "Elmer was Joe’s rattlesnake."

"Rattlesnake!" Pa pulled back slightly. "Joe had a rattlesnake?"

"Briefly," Adam deadpanned.

"When did your brother have a rattlesnake?"

"On the trail. Not long before we crossed that last stretch of desert." He watched Pa try to remember.

"And I killed him?"

"The snake, yes. You spanked Joe."

Pa dusted his hands together. "How do you boys remember these things?"

Adam raised his eyebrows. "Your spankings tend to be memorable, Pa."

He was rewarded with eyes that lit from inside and a slow, loving smile. "You want me to teach you how to shoot accurately?"

"Yes, Pa."

"Why?"

"Why?"

Pa nodded.

"Because." Adam dredged his soul for the right words. "Because if there is a next time I want to be able to shoot a man in the arm - or the leg." His eyes felt hot. "I don’t ever want to watch another man die with my bullet in him."

Adam rubbed at his face, once again feeling the rough growth of his beard. He wasn’t sure that he had said what Pa had wanted to hear. But he had said what was in his heart. Surely Pa didn’t expect more than that.

"Son."

He faced his father.

"I’ll teach you."

Adam’s eyes burned and his vision blurred. He turned his side to Pa. "There should have been something else I could have done."

"But there wasn’t. You were aiming a rifle. There was no room for mistake, you could have killed Samuel - or me."

He patted Adam on the shoulder and then took slow, deliberate steps to the barn door. As Pa eased it closed, and the wind was confined to a smaller opening, the evening air raced past Adam, cooling his face and his eyes. Pa walked to the left side of the barn. Adam watched the gloved fingers grasp the edge of that door as Pa leaned back; bracing himself so the wind wouldn’t hurl the door closed and break the hinges.

Adam snugged his hat and quickly walked to the opening. He worked beside Pa as they eased the door closed, and then he held it in place while Pa slid the board between the braces.

Pa grinned at Adam when they entered the house to find Hop Sing, Hoss, and Joe seated at the dinner table, their faces filled with concerned expectation.

Adam washed his hands. He pulled his chair away from the table and sat at the same time that Pa did.

"What?" Adam finally asked, sliding his eyes from friend to brother to brother.

Joe lifted his left hand. "Well?" he prompted.

"Well, what?" Adam demanded.

His little brother leaned back in his chair and slapped the tabletop. "Hoss said you got a gun."

"He was gonna find out anyhow, Adam." Hoss didn’t even look repentant. "This way we don’t have to talk about it before bed."

"Yeah," Joe enthused. "This way I can tell you about how Pa and me got that bull outta that wagon. Well, we helped," he amended after a glance at Pa.

"So what’d ya’ll work out?" Hoss pressed his older brother for an answer.

"Is it any of- " Adam stopped. Of course it wasn’t any of their business. What did that have to do with it?

"Adam is keeping the revolver," Pa announced. He leaned his elbows on the table. "And I will be teaching him how to shoot it."

"Dang," Hoss said in admiration.

"Golly," Joe sighed.

"Father and son are agreed. This is good." Hop Sing flashed a quick smile.

Pa clasped his hands and lowered his gaze on his younger sons. "I think it would be best if you two watch while I teach Adam. Furthermore," Pa continued when Hoss and Joe exchanged grins, "you will not be allowed to handle the gun without Adam’s permission. And you will not be allowed to fire the gun without my permission. I will, however, expect you to learn how to clean the gun." He paused, giving them time to consider his orders. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Pa."

Ben spread the napkin in his lap. "Would you say the blessing, please, Joseph?"

Joe folded his hands and bowed his head. "Thank you, dear Lord, for this bounty from which we are about to eat and bless it and all of us so we can do what you want. Amen. What happened to your hat, Adam?"

"Uh –" Adam stammered. Joe’s quick change in subject matter was not unlike Pa’s had been when Adam had mentioned Elmer. Adam had maintained for a long time that Joe was more like Pa than anyone admitted. Every year, Joe’s behavior added to Adam’s assertion.

"You gotta remember something like that," Joe said. "It’s your hat, Adam."

"It got wet."

"When he fell in the river," Hoss added.

He would bring that up. Adam sighed.

Joe frowned. "Why’d ya fall in a river?"

Did they really need to discuss this? "Because I couldn’t see it," Adam snapped.

"Why couldn’t ya see it?" Joe was unrelenting.

Hoss shrugged his shoulders. "It was dark."

"Dark?" Pa pulled his head back and looked from the bottoms of his eyes.

"Yes, sir. We would’ve been a lot better off back there by the rock creek - "

"You didn’t tell me about the rock creek," Adam interrupted.

Hoss leaned forward, locking eyes with his older brother. "That’s ‘cause you were gonna find us a camping spot. Remember? You was just tryin’ to look out for me. That’s how come we wound up there on them dang old rocks with that sandy old water - "

Adam’s jaw jutted. He picked up his fork and waved it. "I told you to let it settle in the cup, Hoss."

"And nothing but dang old snakes to shoot for dinner," Hoss lamented.

"Snakes!" Joe yelped in excitement.

"For dinner?" Hop Sing asked in deep concern.

"We did not eat snake," Adam denied. "We had biscuits and beans and apples."

"Yeah," Hoss said. "Cold biscuits and cold beans on account of you forgot anything to cook in. And then you had to go and hear that noise. When you skidded off of that rock you screamed like a girl."

"Oh, yeah? Well when you hit that water the level of the river rose three feet. And you darn near squashed me."

"Oh yeah?" Hoss’ logic took a left turn. "Lucky thing for you that I didn’t fall in that crack. You never would’ve heard me hit bottom."

"You, I would have heard hit bottom."

"At least my hat looks good."

Adam sat straight. "Hoss your hat is without a doubt the ugliest thing I have ever seen atop a man’s head."

Hoss put down his fork and knife. "That’s only ‘cause you ain’t seen that pitiful hat of yours in a mirror yet."

"That hat of mine would be just fine if you hadn’t said anything about that shortcut."

"I told you already, Adam, I heard Big Dan talkin’ about it. It wasn’t like I’d ever been on it or nothing."

"Well we’ve been on it now." Adam’s voice lowered. "And if you think I am ever letting you lead the way again-"

"I got us there, didn’t I?"

"You!"

Adam heard Joe worriedly ask Pa, "Aren’t ya gonna make ‘em stop fightin’?"

"They’ll work it out." Pa said after a soft laugh. "They always do."

The end