Late October – December 1829

Cincinnati

Nothing in John’s letters had prepared Ben for Cincinnati.

Having said his farewells to the de Villes the evening before, with a promise to someday visit them in New Orleans, Ben bid Mrs. Windthorst and Virginia Appleton goodbye at the landing the following day. He doubted that he would see Mrs. Windthorst again if she had her way - and Ben judged that the woman generally had her way. She had tolerated Ben since the time of the fight on board the riverboat; she had been polite if not cordial.

The clamor of the landing area with all the shouting of crew members and calling to animals and the blast of the ships’ horns and firing of the ships’ cannons and then the excited chatter of reunited friends and family was nothing new to Ben.

But why on earth did so many people back home consider this the frontier?

Cincinnati was no struggling town. Granted it was not as sophisticated as Philadelphia or Boston, and it was noticeably smaller, but all manner of goods were being loaded aboard ships headed downriver toward New Orleans or upriver toward the Erie Canal and then New York. There was a manufactory for glassware, a paper mill, and more villages across the river - one aspired to a thriving future if it planned to live up to its name of Newport. Not only did the area produce grain and corn and pork and tobacco and enjoy a bountiful supply of fish from the river; of all things there was a powder works. Ben walked near the market area, with Adam gripping a handful of one piece of baggage, and admired the wagons laden with apples and vegetables. Public buildings were everywhere; both religion and government were well represented by the churches, land office, jail, and courthouse. The structures were made of wood near the landing but as he walked to what looked to be the center of town he saw more brick and rock.

Ben had committed the address of John’s mercantile shop to memory and was dismayed to step up to the door and discover the place closed even though it was still early in the afternoon.

"Looking for John?"

Ben turned toward the voice. A man of Ben’s height and size, dressed in a well-cut suit, tipped his hat and took his cigar from his mouth. "John’s hunting." The speaker was from somewhere near Germany judging by the accent Ben knew well from Philadelphia.

"Hunting?" It wasn’t the Sabbath, the workday was far from over, and John had gone hunting?

"If it’s a purchase you have need of" - the man pointed to the south - "Windthorst has a shop."

John was competing with Mrs. Windthorst’s husband? It was a good bet that Windthorst hadn’t achieved his success by closing shop early in the day.

Ben informed the sandy-haired man that he was seeking the owner because they were brothers. As an afterthought, he extended his hand. "Ben Cartwright." He nodded toward the boy who was attached to his leg, his face snuggled to Ben’s trousers. "My son, Adam."

"Jacobs, Thaddeus Jacobs." He tilted his head and offered the opinion that if Ben was planning to travel to John’s farm he’d do well to hire a carriage or wagon. "I judge the boy there hasn’t the legs for the walk," he explained and winked at Adam.

Ben’s breath almost failed him when Adam smiled at the man. The child kept his death grip on his father’s trouser leg but his eyes went from the man’s curly hair to his dusty shoes. "Boos," he said softly.

Jacobs sat on his heels a few feet in front of the boy. "And they’re dirty because I’ve been riding horses."

Ben leaned his head back and looked from the bottoms of his eyes when Adam ventured, "Hord-es?"

"They’re fine horses, too. You’ve never had a smoother ride. When you’ve settled in, come see me and I’ll put you in a saddle."

"Do," Adam assured with a firm nod.

Jacobs stood and blinked at Ben. "Do you imagine he understood?"

Ben laughed. "He understood about horses and saddles, I assure you."

The man jerked his chin toward the north. "When you’re ready for the boy to sit atop one of the finest horses in this state, give me a visit. My livery’s a block that way."

"If you have a wagon for hire," Ben said, "we’ll accompany you there now."

"Of course." Jacobs wrapped a strong hand around one of the valise handles before Ben could stop him.

They’d no sooner set out on the walkway than Adam let loose Ben’s trouser leg and walked between the two men, swinging his arms with vigor. If Ben hadn’t been a witness he would not have believed his son’s unusual behavior. The boy came as close to striding as his slender little legs would allow. Instead of looking around and asking to be told the names of everything he saw, Adam kept his attention directly in front of him. He was a toddler with a purpose.

That purpose was made obvious when the threesome approached the livery. Adam stopped almost in mid-step and sighed an admiring "ooh" when he noticed the horses in a side corral.

Jacobs chuckled and motioned toward the four sable-colored animals that arched their necks over the top rail, raising and lowering their heads in the man’s direction. "Are you a horseman?"

Adam clapped his hands. "Hord-es."

There was nothing for it but to put down the baggage and knapsack, lift Adam, and walk to the horses so Adam could pat one. Before Ben knew what the boy was doing, Adam leaned forward and touched his forehead to one horse’s muzzle.

What did he think he was doing? Ben jerked his son back with a sharp, "Adam!"

The blue eyes shot to Ben’s face in surprise.

The father pointed as he shouted, "He could have split your skull, young man!"

Adam shook his head. "Hord-es."

"I know they are horses. But you should never put your head against his that way. He could pull up and you could be hurt."

"Hur?" Adam asked slowly.

Ben’s alarm subsided. "Yes."

Adam bit at his lower lip and twisted to look at the animals. "Hord-es hur?"

Ben nodded.

The full lips pursed, the brow furrowed, and Adam disagreed. "No."

"Adam." Ben’s voice went deep.

The boy shook his head. "Hord-es dub."

"What’s that he said?" Jacobs inquired from where he stood by the open barn door.

"He says that horses love him. That they won’t hurt him."

Now it was Jacobs’ brow that wrinkled. "Has he always been this way with them? Not afraid?"

Ben set Adam back on his feet. "Yes."

Jacobs considered for a moment and then said in an admiring tone, "That’s remarkable, you know. Often children are frightened by the horse’s size."

"Not this one." Ben grabbed his son by the shoulder as the boy made toward the fence. "Adam, you will stay by Pa."

Adam twisted to face his father, but motioned in the other direction. "Hord-es."

"We will visit the horses - later."

"Wot?" Adam took the two steps to return to Ben and leaned back to see his father’s face.

"In the morning when the sun comes up."

The boy held his mouth slightly open and regarded Ben with a hesitant look. "Sun?"

Ben crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Um."

Having given Ben’s pronouncement thought, Adam dropped his hands to his sides. "Do."

Jacobs raised his eyebrows and pointed with his cigar. "Is he two years yet?"

Why had Jacobs asked that? "A few months past one year," Ben answered.

The livery owner shook his head and turned toward the barn, not sharing his thoughts. "Now to that wagon."

The day was bracing with a gentle breeze and cool air. Freedom from the riverboat seemed to encourage Adam’s high spirits. The boy babbled about everything he saw as Ben drove the small wagon along the well-traveled road. Adam was so excited about the country that Ben had to bring the wagon to a halt several times and instruct Adam to stop leaning on the sidewall and to sit. Each time they stopped, Ben’s son was slower to obey.

The father pulled up the horses for the third time in what seemed less than a quarter hour and turned on the seat to give his son a stern look. "You will sit."

Adam kept one hand on the top of the side of the wagon bed and pointed with the other. "Burr. Flur-uh. Dee?"

"Yes, I see. Sit."

"Burr. Flur-uh." He patted his hand against the wooden side. "Wogan." Then he smiled toward the front of the wagon. "Hord-es."

Ben raised his right hand, palm flat, the way he always did before a swat to Adam’s bottom. "Now," he warned.

Adam’s lips went thin and he swung his arms behind his back, then he quickly sat on top of Ben’s coat. "Do," he answered.

Ben set the horses in motion and admired the level land. Judging by the produce available in town, there was good soil here. Trees were everywhere, dangling orange and burgundy and yellow leaves that seemed to shimmer in the breeze. Unless he was mistaken, that was a small apple orchard on the first farm he passed. Cattle, horses, a handful of dogs, and stacks of some sort of grain crop. Strange that Adam wasn’t announcing the names of the things that he knew - and asking about those he didn’t. Ben glanced over his shoulder.

Adam was kneeling on the coat with his hands flat to the sidewall and his chin propped on top of it.

"You are not sitting."

The boy looked over his shoulder. "Ad-am do."

"You are not sitting on your behind."

Never had Ben seen such a look of disapproval as the one Adam gave him. The child slowly sat cross-legged and then slapped his hands at the coat on either side of him. "No dee!"

Well, here was a problem. Adam was too small to see anything but the sky when he was sitting. He wouldn’t obey long under that circumstance and they would never arrive at John’s farm at this speed.

Ben pulled the horse to a stop again. He climbed into the wagon bed. The only way to get Adam elevated enough to see out was to sit him atop something. And the only thing to sit him on was the baggage. After retrieving a few items from the larger valise, Ben stowed it against the front of the wagon bed, pushed on it until he was confident it would not give, and then settled Adam on top, facing the back.

Adam watched in fascination as his father wrapped a short length of rope over the waist of his dress and sweater. Ben held the loose rope ends like reins and returned to the wagon seat, smiling as he heard Adam clapping with joy.

"Pa?"

"Yes?"

"Dee."

Ben blew out a deep breath. "Good. Be still."

"Do."

The man clicked his tongue and the horses set into a walk. A moment later, Adam started his chant and this time it wasn’t about what he saw, it was about what he knew. "Burr. Hord-es. Wogan. Flur-uh. Pa. Ad-am. Har. Pay. Diema. Aassuh. Wiv-uh. Teem. Boa-t. Tip. Tocks. Tippuh. Boos. App-ee. Pipe. A-gwee. App-ee. Noid. Fi-uh. Peas. Ta tu."

Ben winced. Oh saints, here it came.

"Tor elko. Tor elko. Tor elko."

John’s home was a two-story wooden structure that looked just shy of being as large as many of the inns that Ben had seen in Pennsylvania. As the wagon approached the smooth dirt lane that curved near the house, Ben’s eyes skimmed over the windows that looked toward the flower garden in front. Glass was apparently not as hard to come by as Ben had thought it might be. Neither, it would seem, were woodworkers, because the carved details along the front porch posts were intricate and well rendered.

Ben had not met John’s wife and as a consequence he wasn’t certain whether the woman who opened the front door after he knocked was Patience. She was of medium height with dark hair and dark eyes; her features were pleasing to the eye, but something about her lacked enthusiasm.

"Mrs. Cartwright?" Ben held his hat in one hand and Adam in the other arm. "I’m Ben Cartwright, John’s brother."

She pulled back slightly. "Yes?"

Not quite the reception Ben had anticipated. "I wrote John that my son and I would be arriving."

"Well, it’s not like him to tell me his business. Take your horses to the barn and then return to the house. There’s no sense in speaking at the door like this. We’re letting the cold inside."

Cold? Ben felt the Adam’s face. There was no chill to the child’s skin. Ben was comfortable. The air was refreshing. He thanked John’s wife, though he wasn’t sure for what, and permitted Adam to walk beside him as he led the horses and wagon to the barn.

After Ben had tended the horses and stabled them, Adam took great pride in carrying armful after armful of feed to drop into the crib. Job done, he dusted his hands together and then beamed up at Ben - with Elizabeth’s smile and her sparkling eyes.

"Ead," Adam said of the horses.

"Indeed they are. It’s kind of you to help them."

The boy nodded his head several times. He held out his hand and carefully touched the nose of one of the horses, laughing when it blew. "App-ee."

Ben leaned his back on the barn wall. "Yes, he is. Shall we get our baggage and go in the house?"

Adam bit his lip as he looked beyond the open barn door, giving the impression of even more hesitancy than usual.

"Should Pa hold you?"

His son raised his arms and then wrapped them around Ben’s neck.

Ben picked up the larger bag. He could return for the other and his knapsack. "This is where your Aunt Patience and Uncle John live." He walked slowly across the cleared space connecting the barn and house, giving Adam time to look around. "And your cousin, Will. He’s not much different from you in age."

The house, or what Ben saw of it as he was led to the guest room, was filled with furnishings that Ben recognized from his father’s home. His escort was a little woman aptly named Mrs. Overly because she was assuredly overly dour.

"What are you about?" she demanded when she had shown Ben to his room upstairs.

Ben turned from sitting Adam in a wing chair, surprised at the arrogant tone in her voice. "I beg your pardon?"

"You can’t be putting him down in here." She pointed a fleshy finger at Adam.

"And why not?" Ben stood beside the chair, arms crossed at his chest.

Mrs. Overly was not accustomed to having her directives questioned. She frowned and put her hands on her hips. "The child will sleep with the boys."

Not likely. "What boys would those be?"

"The two that work the farm, of course. And William."

"That would be John’s son?"

"Who else?"

Saints but the woman was as imperious as any ship’s captain Ben had ever met. But she did not have the benefit of command.

"My son will be more comfortable in this room with me, thank you."

Her voice rose in volume. "It is not a matter of what makes the thing comfortable or not! It is a matter of - "

Ben had been taught from an early age not to interrupt but this woman was reason enough to forget the lesson. " ‘Thing,’ Mrs. Overly? My son is not a ‘thing.’ He is a child and as such is worthy of consideration."

"Preposterous." Her face was slowly, but surely, turning an unusual shade of lavender.

She took an involuntary step back when Ben stalked toward her.

His voice was much more calm than his temper when he spoke. "My son will be staying in the guest room with me."

The woman was not defeated yet. "We shall see what Mrs. Cartwright has to say about this state of affairs." She turned on her heel and huffed away toward the staircase.

Judging by John’s wife’s reception and now Mrs. Overly’s behavior, Ben might be better served to rent a room in town.

Ben was removing items from the baggage when he heard a man running up the stairs. John didn’t bother to rap on the bedroom door before bursting into the room. He never had.

The effect of his abrupt entrance was predictable. Adam, who had been quietly sliding his toy boat across the floor, shot to his feet and ran to hide behind Ben’s legs. If John noticed the boy, he gave no sign of it.

"Faith! You look well!" John declared as he pumped Ben’s hand.

Ben was surprised to discover that he was several inches taller than his older brother. But Ben had not been the only one to change during the seven years John and he had not seen each other. John was heavier, with gray hairs beginning to show at his temples although he was only twenty-seven. There was little in his full face that reminded Ben of their mother, as it once had.

"You are Father’s reflection." John crossed his arms at his chest and shook his head. "Like seeing the dead."

Did John mean that Ben looked like a corpse? The journey had not been that difficult.

Ben’s brother sat in one of two upholstered chairs by the window and leaned an elbow on the chair arm. "Thaddeus told me that you had arrived."

"Thaddeus?"

"The livery owner. Where you hired the wagon and horse, Ben."

"I know who Jacobs is. What I don’t understand is how you saw him in town if you were out hunting."

John leaned back and indulged in a hearty, room-filling laugh. "Hunting! I’ve never heard it called that."

Ben felt Adam poke his head between Ben’s lower legs, but the hands still gripped Ben’s trousers. "Heard what called that?"

John pointed toward Adam, the first evidence that he knew the child existed. "You didn’t beget him without knowing what I’m talking about." He threw up his hand at Ben’s perplexed expression. "Faith, man. I was at Mrs. Treyhee’s boarding house."

What need did John have of a boarding house when he had a fine home like this? And why would he need a room in the middle of the - Ben’s thoughts skidded to a halt and then ventured slowly forward. A boarding house could be a place to stay, yes. But it could also be where a man could find a woman who expected money for her company.

"Don’t look so sour." John misread his brother. He’d done that more often than not in the past, too. "I’ll introduce you to the ladies tomorrow. I’ve no doubt you’ve some need of relief after a long journey. Or were you able to charm some lovely thing into your bed while you were on board the boat?"

Ben glanced down at his son. "Give a care, John."

He received a dismissive wave in response. "The boy hasn’t any idea what we’re saying."

Perhaps Adam didn’t have the complete idea but there was no need to converse about such things in his earshot.

John smacked the chair arm. "So, then, let us go downstairs. You look like a man who’s ready for a drink or two."

Judging by the looks and smell of it, John had had an adequate amount of drink for both of them. Ben lifted Adam and walked to the door.

"Where are you taking him?" John inquired.

"Adam? Downstairs."

"What for?"

Ben laughed slightly. "Be assured he isn’t drinking alcohol. I’m taking him down to supper."

John licked his lip and hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets. "Will eats with the nurse."

"Do you suggest my son isn’t welcome at the table?" Ben frowned.

"No, no. Of course he’s - welcome." John’s manner told Ben something else completely. Will slept with the boys who worked the farm? He ate with the nurse? And John was in town all day? So when did the man see his son?

Ben jerked when John slapped him on the back. "I’m sure the boy will liven up the supper table considerably."

Despite the luxurious draperies and the Chinese porcelain and the glow of candlelight and the excellent food that had been prepared by the cook, Lillian, the supper table in John’s home was not a pleasant place.

Patience’s disapproval of Adam’s presence was as solid as the mahogany table. She only spoke when civility required and she was sparing with her words even then. She was sulking like a poorly trained child.

Adam, who generally ate with vigor and appreciation, moved cautiously, his eyes often uplifted to Ben’s face. John inquired about Ben’s years in Boston and then about their uncles and aunts, but he did so more out of courtesy that concern. Nevertheless, Ben answered the questions in hopes of preventing the meal from being an absolute disaster.

As soon as to do so was not impolite, Ben excused himself and Adam. Mrs. Overly scowled at him when they passed on the stairs and just for the devilment of it Ben bid her a good evening and expressed gratitude for her kind concern for her guests’ welfare.

After they had dressed for bed, Ben sat in a chair by the window with Adam in his lap. The boy requested a song but his eyes drifted closed before the first chorus of the sea chantey. Ben caressed the boy’s feather soft hair. There was no reason to lay Adam on the bed. Not yet. Ben’s hand slid to his son’s chest and he smiled as he felt the strong little heartbeat. Then he closed his eyes and turned his face to the cool breeze gliding in through the open bedroom window.

Here were the sounds of the country; the rustle of leaves and the gentle neigh of reassurance that one horse shared with another. When Ben and John had been boys, they had spent weeks at a time at the farm outside Philadelphia. Those warm evenings had been overflowing with reading and laughter and music accompanied by the high-pitched chirrups of crickets and the bass croaking of frogs. The stars had been so intense there. Ben had not seen their like again until he had been at sea where, at night, there was almost no distinguishing water from sky.

John’s queries, an attempt to catch up on lost years, had stirred memories in Ben. Memories of their boyhoods, of the final time Ben had seen their father, of Captain Stoddard, of the lovely girl who had captured Ben’s heart as no other had, and memories of the sea. How much had happened in that time. Love, loss, and a child.

Never once before Ben had known Elizabeth had he dreamed, or even considered, that he might someday sit with a warm little boy nestled to him. A youngster lost in sleep and secure in the trust that Ben would protect him from harm.

Never once had Ben anticipated that his brother could be adulterous. For Ben the marriage vows he had made with Elizabeth had been holy, as much a covenant with Heaven as with his wife. He had pledged to keep her above all others and to be faithful to her, and he had. Although, if he’d married a woman like Patience . . .

Ben allowed himself to wander through that wretched thought long enough to realize that he never would have married a woman like his brother’s wife. But perhaps John had not, either. Ben had heard how women could change for the worst after marriage. Elizabeth had not changed a whit, but then there was not another woman like her in the world. And there never would be.

There would never be another child like Adam, either. When Ben looked down at his son he not only saw Elizabeth and himself united in one body, he saw all the potential of the future. What wondrous things might Adam and he share in the years ahead? What wondrous things might Adam do and see and touch and taste and think during his lifetime?

How humbling indeed to hold the future as it silently slumbered in his lap.

Ben woke the next morning to the most intense rain he had seen in some time. It had the clouds and look of a sudden squall. The trouble was that it wasn’t sudden. It had arrived after dark and it gave no hint of being in a rush.

By the third day of confinement indoors, Ben thought he would surely explode in his skin. Adam was more philosophical about the weather conditions. He padded in sock feet from one window to another, looked out, heaved a deep childish imitation of Ben’s sigh, and shook his head. "Wane," he said and then walked to the next window, continuing to shake his head.

"Would you stop that, please?" Ben pled the third afternoon. He had thought he might enjoy a book but he had found himself reading the same sentence again and again.

Adam paced across the floor, his hands clasped behind his back, and kicked at an imaginary object. "Wane, wane, wane." A sudden inspiration flashed across his face, accompanied by a grin. "Ting."

"Son, Pa doesn’t feel like singing."

All right, then. Adam tossed his head. "Wim."

Ben laughed. "Swim? Adam, it’s raining oceans out - " The boy’s reasoning was first-rate. What was so different between swimming and standing in the rain? The result was the same, was it not? The rain wasn’t hurtful; it was just irritating.

"We’ll change into our work attire and we’ll swim in the rain," Ben announced.

If Adam had been taller he would have knocked the wind from Ben when he ran to the man, given the force with which he collided with Ben’s legs to hug them.

Ben was confident that neither Patience nor Mrs. Overly would endorse Adam’s and his foray. He lifted the boy, put his index finger to his lips, and tiptoed on his bare feet to the back door. After slowly, carefully easing the door open, he stepped onto the porch.

"Let’s be sure the rain isn’t too chilly." Ben leaned from under the roof and held his hand palm up. No, not too cool and not too warm. Just right. He raised a brow at Adam. "Ready?"

Adam kicked at Ben’s sides and clapped his hands.

They giggled as one when Ben ran down the porch steps and the rain drenched them. The area behind the house had a low-cut hedgerow and a rock pathway. Ben spun around and laughed when Adam slapped his hands over his eyes.

"You aren’t wobbly are you?" Ben teased. He lifted Adam over his head. "Swim."

The blue eyes flew open. Adam paddled with his arms and legs. Ben strolled about, heading the boy directly into the rain as it blew past them in gray sheets. Adam squealed with happiness.

"Take care. You’ll swallow too much rain."

In response, Adam opened his mouth wide and lifted his face to the clouds. A moment later he coughed, sputtered, and then looked guiltily down at Ben.

"Oh no! You’ve quit swimming. You’re going down."

The boy immediately took up his paddling again, twisting when Ben slid a thumb to tickle his stomach.

"And now you’re swimming very fast." With that Ben took out at a sprint toward the vegetable garden. The rain hurled itself at him. How nice to have the water in his face without the bite of sea salt.

Ben doubted any creatures had ever enjoyed the rain more. Adam and he were sitting side by side on the rock path, laughing and wiping their hands on each other, when a child walked to them. His dark hair clung to his head and he kept blinking his dark eyes to keep the rain out of them. Given that the boy was a little bigger than Adam and perhaps just a bit older, Ben made the quick deduction that this must be his nephew.

"Hello, Will," he greeted.

The boy looked from Ben to Adam and then back to Ben, after which he immediately sat on the path.

"I am your Uncle Ben. And this is your cousin, Adam. Adam, this is Will."

Adam studied the other boy in a way he usually reserved for horses. "Woll," he said.

Close enough.

Ben raised a brow at Will but the boy offered no words. Perhaps he was as reticent around strangers as Adam was.

"Ting," Adam said. At first Ben thought his son was asking Will to sing. But a pat on his knee from Adam’s hand told Ben that he was the requested performer.

"Um." Ben smiled as he remembered one of Elizabeth’s favorite tunes. He closed his eyes and sang.

One morning, one morning, one morning in May,

As fine a fair couple they were making their way.

One was a lady so sweet and so fair,

The other was a soldier and a brave volunteer.

‘Good mornin’, good mornin’, good mornin’,’ cried he.

‘Where are you going, m’pretty lady?’

‘I’m going out walking by the banks of the sea

Just to see the water gliding and the nightingale sing.’

They had not been standing but a minute or two

When out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew

And the tune that he played made the valleys all ring

And ‘Hush,’ cries the maiden, ‘hear the nightingale sing!’

‘Soldier, o soldier, will you marry me?’

‘No, pretty maiden that never will be.

For I’ve a wife back in London, and children twice three.

Two wives and the army’s too many for me

‘I’ll go back to London and I’ll stay for one year.

‘Tis oftimes I’ll think of you, my pretty dear.

And if ever I return, it will be in the spring

Just to see the waters gliding and hear the nightingale sing.’

Just to see the waters gliding and hear the nightingale sing

Adam clapped his hands and looked at his cousin. Will allowed the faintest of smiles on his lips. And Ben wondered at how extraordinary the three of them must appear, sitting on the path in the downpour as happily as if they were enjoying a day in the sun.

Ben turned toward the house when he heard the back door open and hunched his shoulders at the sight of Patience. He was undoubtedly about to get his ears chewed off.

But as she opened her mouth, John stepped up beside her and called, "How’s the water?"

Ben stood and replied that the water was fine.

Patience scowled from John to Ben and back to John but kept her feelings to herself. At least for the moment.

"We have tea," John said. "Perhaps you and your crew there would care for some to warm you?"

The woman spoke then. She informed John, in crisp language, that she would not have them walking about sodden in her house.

Her house. Interesting. Ben had been under the impression -

"We’ll have tea here on the porch," John instructed.

"And your son will have the grippe before nightfall," Patience scolded.

"Only the nurse will lose sleep if he does."

Ben looked down. This had all the signs of turning unpleasant quickly and he had no wish to be in the thick of it. Well now, there was Adam behind one of Ben’s trouser legs and Will behind the other. He smiled at their questioning expressions.

"Come along." John beckoned. "Mrs. Overly will bring blankets and tea."

Ben bet Mrs. Overly was thrilled about that. He lifted a boy in each arm and carried them to the shelter of the porch.

Mrs. Overly brought the blankets and tea. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to; her scowl spoke volumes. Ben had thought Patience might join them but then he noticed only two cups and two mugs to one side of a plate of sandwiches and small cakes.

After a brisk and protest-filled rub down with a blanket, Adam reached for a cake as Ben attempted to dry himself.

Ben cleared his throat. "I think you should eat one of these first." He directed Adam toward a small sandwich.

The boy leaned his head back, twisted his lips to one side, but then decided to obey. Was it Ben’s imagination that his son took the smallest of the small?

John was rubbing Will’s clothing, working most of the rain out of it, but he didn’t look as if he was accustomed to such ministrations. Finally he awkwardly set Will in his lap, wrapped him in the blanket, and held the mug of sweetened warm tea while Will drank.

Well there was something Adam would never allow. The moment the boy had learned to hold a cup, that part of fatherhood had been a thing of the past for Ben. Even a suggestion that he intended to assist Adam with a drink was reason for loudly voiced disapproval.

Adam munched on his sandwich, holding it in both hands, all the time his eyes sliding about, studying and making note of things around him. He glanced up once at Ben, smiled with his mouth full, and then returned his attention to the outside.

"Wane," he said after swallowing.

"Um, lots of rain," Ben agreed.

Adam nodded. "Wim." He put his hands around a pottery mug and slowly lifted it.

"That will be warm, Adam," Ben cautioned.

"Do," Adam answered. He slowly tipped the liquid to his lips and found it to his liking. "Dis?"

"That is tea with cream and sugar." Ben grinned at John. "If I know your uncle, it is mostly cream."

John smiled in return and chose a sandwich for Will.

"Tea," Adam repeated.

"Yes, that is tea." Ben picked up a sandwich and bit into it.

Adam looked positively baffled. He considered the contents of the mug. "Boa-t?" he ventured.

Ben peeked into the cup. The color of the liquid did bear a resemblance to some rivers they had seen. Well, this was one that Ben could solve. He hissed like a snake.

Adam laughed and imitated the sound.

Ben snugged the blanket around the boy. He hissed again, as did Adam. "Now then. Ssssea."

"Ssssssssssea."

Ben tousled Adam’s wet hair. "The water, like river and stream, that is the ssssea."

"Ssssssssssea."

Ben bit off a chuckle at Adam’s exaggerated pronunciation. "The drink, what is in your mug here - " Ben paused to dip his finger in the liquid. "That is tea."

Adam looked down at the ripples in his drink. "Tea."

"We drink tea. We look at the sea."

"Dink tea dee ssssssea."

Ben started to correct the "dee" that Adam used for "see" but decided to save that lesson for another rainy afternoon.

Adam set the mug on the tabletop in front of them and then waved his hand toward the backyard. "Wane."

"Eat now," Ben instructed.

"Peas."

"Please."

"Ead." Adam seized a finger-sized cake and stuffed it into his mouth.

Ben rolled his eyes toward his brother, expecting to find commiseration at the forbearance required of fathers. Instead he found an expression he wasn’t sure how to decipher, something between disbelief and astonishment. The look was a baffling one that puzzled Ben the remainder of the day.

Even though everyone was confined indoors for several days, except for the performance of essential chores, Ben was scarcely able to lay eyes on the two boys who worked the farm for John. And their one brief passing would never have happened had they not walked by a doorway that Ben had been staring at on the fourth day. They were tall, strong young men, probably about fourteen or so.

When Ben inquired of John as to their names, his brother shrugged and continued to read a copy of Dickens’ Pickwick Papers. "What difference does it make?"

Ben wasn’t about to argue the point; after all, John’s temperament had not improved with days of pouring rain and rising creeks that had kept him from traveling to town. Instead Ben asked how the boys had come to work at the farm.

"Took them in." John kept his dark eyes on the book.

"Took them in."

"They lost their parents to some illness or other not many years back. I offered them food and clothes and a roof over their heads until they’re old enough to go off on their own. In exchange they work the farm. Like sons."

Ben hoped that John didn’t think the only reason to have sons was for unpaid labor. "What will you do then?" Ben shifted in the leather wing chair and smiled at Adam, who was playing quietly at his feet on the rug.

John looked up from his reading and asked distractedly, "What will I do when?"

"When the boys are old enough to set out on their own."

"Why worry about that now?"

"I’m not worrying," Ben defended. "I’m thinking about the future."

John placed a finger in the book to mark his place. He pointed with the other hand. "That’s always been your trouble. Always dreaming about the future. Never putting your feet down in the present."

What had brought that on? Granted, the rain was driving everyone to distraction but -

"You talk about going West," John continued, "about what a magnificent future you’ll have." He leaned forward and squared his eyes with Ben’s. "Why should that future be any different from where you are today? All a man can do is work with what he’s given, Ben. There’s no wisdom in chasing the unseen. No one builds a dream."

Surely John did not have that bleak an opinion of the future. "Father did."

"Father." John said the word with such disdain that Ben was taken aback. "Father worked hard all his life. And for what?"

"He was building a future for us, John." Recalling that the inheritance had rightly gone to John as the oldest son, Ben amended his answer. "He was building a future for you."

John shot to his feet and tossed the book to the chair set. "We’ve come to that, have we?" He walked across the room to a highly polished lowboy where a silver tray bearing all manner of bottles and glasses awaited him.

"Come to what?" Ben rubbed at his forehead as it began to ache.

"You envy me that, don’t you?" John poured liquor into a short, wide glass.

Ben closed his eyes and asked, "Envy you what?"

"I’ve known you all your life, don’t play with me."

Knowing how bad John’s temper could be, and how irrationally he was conducting himself, Ben said nothing.

John returned to his chair, this time tossing the book to the floor. Adam quickly crawled into Ben’s lap and turned his face toward his father’s shirt. "Don’t be concerned, Ben. I harbor no ill feelings. I accepted your envy when we were but boys."

What envy?

His brother smiled but there was cunning in his eyes. "Mother devoted herself to you but it was Father’s love you sought."

"I had his love."

"Not as I did. And you know it. You were adamant about having your way. I learned early to flatter Father by allowing him to think I agreed."

"In other words," Ben’s voice dropped, "you deceived him."

John tossed his head. "Your deception is my concession. You must admit my acquiescence was worth the results. Father left a handsome estate."

Ben had heard enough. John was determined to have a disagreement. When they’d been younger, Ben had given John a row anytime he’d wanted one – and then Ben had received bottom-burning correction from their father for being the first to throw a fist. Two adult Cartwright tempers flaring in one room was more than the cosmos could be expected to suffer. As Ben lifted his son, he ignored John asking him if he wanted to know exactly how much their father had bequeathed to John. Ben turned his back and made for the stairs.

"If you want for money, you could always sell the pistols he left to you," John called after him.

The following morning, Ben had the wagon parked in front of Thaddeus Jacobs’ livery before the owner ventured from his two-story dwelling next door. Jacobs spared a smile for Adam, who stood near the corral admiring the horses, and then met Ben halfway across the dirt area between the barn and the corral.

"You’re early," Jacobs greeted.

"Do you sell horses? And wagons?" Ben was not of a mind for conversation. He patted the near horse as it shifted, stamping its large hoof in the mud.

Jacobs shrugged. "What kind?"

"A sturdy wagon for travel. And a horse that can be content with grass."

The man rubbed at his chin as they walked side by side to Adam. "Where will you be traveling?"

"West."

Jacobs shook his head. "Not a good idea, Cartwright. The weather’s too changeable now, can get far colder than you want Adam to experience. The rivers are swollen from the rains. And there’s disquiet about the Indians."

Facing what nature might confront him with did not concern Ben. Strife with the Indians was another matter. Was Jacobs as well informed as he seemed? "Those treaties were settled years ago."

"For our government, perhaps." Jacobs patted the top of Adam’s head as he spoke. "There’s talk of a new treaty to send the Indians to the west of the Mississippi. And men from the area say that Black Hawk’s braves are disgruntled."

Ben had heard of the group of Indians led by Black Hawk that had fought alongside the British in the last war. They had been fierce and savage fighters against the United States, a fact that had not curried them any favors.

Jacobs propped his arm on the top rail of the corral. "Moreover, you’ve scarcely had time to have the benefit of our city." When Ben said nothing, he continued. "You’ll be requiring work I would think."

That was true enough. Ben had funds but scarcely an amount to provide for Adam and himself until spring. And he had no intention of being employed by John, provided his brother offered. Despite the fact that he had worked successfully with his father-in-law and with his uncle, Ben did not think that money and brothers would mix well in John’s and his case. "I’ll go down to the boat yards. There’s usually work to be had there."

"And you’ll be needing a place to stay as well. Something suitable for the boy."

There was that, too. Ben ran a hand across his face.

"I’ve a proposal for you, Cartwright." When Ben nodded that he was listening, Jacobs continued. "I lost the employ of a man who decided to seek his fortune downriver. I need someone to work the livery. Do you have experience in a shop?"

A slow smile parted Ben’s lips. "A fair amount, yes."

"Then here’s my offer. You work for me until you’re ready to go west in the spring. In return I pay you, and you have the use of that house there."

Ben turned in the direction that Jacobs was pointing. On the opposite side of the livery from Jacobs’ home was what looked to be a small three-room house fashioned out of rock and wood with a serviceable chimney rising above a well-kept roof.

"I’ll pay you in Mexican silver, not in grain to be bartered." Jacobs put his hands on either side of his waist. "Do you need time to reflect on the offer?"

Deliberate about what Providence had delivered into his hands? Ben thought not. "When should I begin?"

Jacobs nodded to the baggage and knapsack in the wagon bed. "You look to need a few items to keep yourself and Adam. I’ve been without help in the livery two weeks. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough." He sat on his heels in front of Adam. "And now if your father approves, I’ll put you atop a horse and walk you around the corral."

Jacobs and Adam looked up to Ben at the same time.

"Do?" Adam asked, his eyes hopeful.

Ben wasn’t confident about his son being on one of the powerful horses he saw near the livery.

"Not those." Jacobs jerked his chin toward a smaller animal, what could even be a pony, in a corral beyond the first one. "You’d look far before you’d find a more gentle lady."

"Lay-ee." Adam’s brow wrinkled and then he declared, "Hord-es!"

Jacobs laughed gently. "Don’t worry, lad." He winked up at Ben as he said to the boy, "You’re a bit young for the ladies."

Ben rubbed the back of his neck. "Hopefully."

Jacobs stood and held out his hand. "Come along, Adam, and you can ride the horse."

The boy quickly grabbed Jacobs’ little finger. "Do?" he asked Ben.

"Yes, you may ride the horse," Ben consented.

Adam jerked his hand from Jacobs’ and clapped happily. He did not look back at his father as he scampered alongside the livery owner.

By the time Ben had unhitched the wagon and tended the horse, he could hear Adam’s giggles bubbling from the far corral. He tugged off his gloves as he strolled to the wooden rails.

His son sat sideways on the saddle, clapping his hands as Jacobs walked alongside holding him firmly in place.

"Hands where I showed you," Jacobs instructed.

Adam gave the man a quick look and then obeyed, clutching at the saddle horn. "Hord-es."

"Her name is Octavia but I call her Tavi."

"Ta-ee," Adam repeated. "App-ee."

Ben opened his mouth to explain what the boy has said but there was no need.

"Tavi is happy," Jacobs agreed. "It’s not every day she has such an excellent horseman in the saddle."

After Adam had completed his ride on Octavia, he ran slightly in front of Ben as they walked toward town, chattering on about "hord-es" and "Ta-ee." As soon as he turned about and saw that they were approaching the busy market area, he returned to his "quiet observer" approach to life – held in Ben’s arms, bright blue eyes darting everywhere, and the toy boat clutched to his chest.

There was much for Adam to notice in the bustling trade area. Wagons were filled with cheese, fish, bread, butter, vegetables, sweets, and the apples that Ben had admired when Adam and he had walked near the market a few days earlier. The merchants had lowered the tailgates that served as a counter for transactions. By the time Ben had their provisions, Adam was content to walk beside him. The boy watched wagons, horses, dogs, men, women, and children hurry about and occasionally pointed to an item he found particularly interesting.

Pausing in the street, Ben fixed his eyes upon John’s shop, its door open to customers. He needed a skillet and a coffee pot, a bucket or two, a few eating implements, and dishes and cups. Might as well spend his money at John’s. Ben led Adam up the two wooden steps and into the building.

A tall woman with raven black hair and deep brown eyes smiled at him from behind a counter. When she had attended to the two women ahead of Ben, she asked how she might be of help.

"Ma’am," Ben greeted. He listed the items he required and then glanced around as she filled the order. Ben was admiring a porcelain platter when he heard bootfalls approach from a door at the back of the room.

"Ben." John nodded a greeting and extended a hand. "You certainly struck out early. There’s no need to buy. We have plenty at the farm."

"I’ve decided to live in town."

John tilted his head toward an area free from the curious eyes of other customers. Adam became deadweight on Ben’s leg, so the man lifted him and noted how quickly the boy turned his face into Ben’s shirt.

Ben’s brother looked to the side and took a deep breath. "I know that certain people in my household are not the best of company, Ben. But do stay at the farm. There’s no need of you spending money here when - "

Ben looked from the bottoms of his eyes. "I appreciate the offer, John. But I found lodgings close to my employment."

John’s attempt at reconciliation was short-lived. "What do you mean your employment?" He seemed to realize he had shouted and took a deep breath to calm himself.

Ben gently turned Adam’s head. If nothing else the boy needed a breath of fresh air. "I’m working at the livery for Jacobs."

John arched a brow and twisted his lips to one side. "I can pay you more than he will." Before Ben could respond he crossed his arms at his chest. "You’ve always been stubborn when it comes to accepting help. Always had to make your own way."

"Sir?" The woman behind the counter pulled Ben’s attention away from his brother. "Your order is complete."

John leaned around Ben and told the woman to start an account for Ben Cartwright. She made to reach for a record book but paused when Ben informed her that he preferred to pay.

"For heaven’s sake," John whispered to Ben. "Allow me to help you."

Ben smiled to take the edge off the words when he answered, "As you said, I make my own way." He set Adam on his feet, counted out the money to pay the tally, and combined his market purchases with the provisions inside the wooden box. Then he shook his brother’s hand. "Thank you for the thought, John." He exited the store and walked toward the livery.

For the first time in his life, Ben had a home to call his own. It wasn’t his father’s, it wasn’t a hammock in a ship, it wasn’t a rented room, it wasn’t his father-in-law’s house in Boston, it wasn’t Uncle Hugh’s home in Philadelphia - it was his and his alone. Well, and Adam’s, of course.

He could not have been more proud of the small house had it been a three-story Federal-style Philadelphia brick house. The place was larger than it looked from the outside - but not by much. To the right of the front door was enough wall for the door to swing against, then a window, then more wall. Turn the corner and there was the wall nearest to the livery, with a fireplace in dead center. A wooden settee that was flanked by a rocking chair and a simple armless chair covered in leather faced the fireplace and a few candlestick tables were scattered about. In the middle of the far wall was a magnificent mahogany bookcase. The back door was no more than three feet to the left of the bookcase. Perhaps the same distance to the left of that door was another doorway, this one opening into a space large enough for a bed and bedside table. There was no mattress atop the knotted ropes on the bed but that was fine with Ben. He’d as soon buy a new mattress. In the room to the left of the front door was a dining table and three dining chairs along with a dry sink and a small water pump.

What puzzled Ben was the handsome mahogany bookcase filled with volumes of Melville, Dickens, Cooper, Thoreau, and countless other writers, including Jefferson, all protected behind glass doors. The interior of the home, including the wooden floor, was in fine shape and dirt-free.

Ben and Adam were quite comfortable in the little house after another journey into town to purchase a mattress. Adam considered their new home a wide-open romping place. He frolicked about, barefoot of course, running and babbling and scooting his toy boat over every surface. He paused once in front of the fireplace where Ben had a few logs burning low, pronounced the word "fi-uh," and then pranced away to crawl under the table and peek from between the chair legs.

The boy conducted himself with appropriate importance when Ben asked him to unpack the baggage and hand him the items. Adam tugged out clothing and other belongings with a grave but proud face.

The bookcase puzzled Ben but it was the mattress that aroused Adam’s curiosity. Accustomed to down-filled beds, he was distressed when he crawled across the mattress and heard rustling. "Noid!" he called from the bedroom.

"What?" Ben answered as he hammered a wooden plank to the common wall between the eating area and the bedroom. He planned for it to serve as a shelf for their three dishes, three cups, a coffee pot, some stacking bowls, and two pans.

"Noid!" Adam yelled.

"Yes, well I’m building a - "

"Seep noid!"

Ben took the last nail from between his teeth. Sleep noise? "I don’t understand," he confessed. "What kind of noise?"

"Dis!" Adam shouted. Then there was the sound of shifting cornhusks.

"That’s what’s inside the bed, Adam. It’s fine."

"Noid."

Ben looked to the ceiling, wondering what he was supposed to do to make strips of husks quiet. He hammered the last nail in place.

"Pa!" Adam’s voice blurted from the bedroom. "Noid!"

"I know, Adam. There are husks inside the bed."

"Wot?"

Ben leaned his forehead against the wall. "Husks."

"Wot?"

Ben took a deep breath. "There are husks inside the mattress."

"Hucks."

Ben nodded. "Yes, husks."

"Pa! Noid!"

"The noise is the husks, Adam. Inside the mattress."

"Hucks noid?"

"Yes." Please, stop.

"Noid!"

All right. Time to turn the boy’s mind to something else.

"Son?"

"Pa."

"Would you come here, please? I need your help."

Ben heard the patter of feet as Adam ran to stand beside him. The boy looked up at his father expectantly. Ben motioned with the hammer toward one of the chair seats. "Would you hand those items to Pa one at a time, please? Plates first."

Adam nodded and walked to the chair, kicking up his toes as he went. He put a small hand to either side of one of the pottery plates and then offered it to Ben, holding it with great care and lifting it as high as he could manage. Ben easily stored it on the chest-high shelf and reached down for the next. "After that last plate, the cups."

"Peas." Adam walked to the chair.

Ben grinned. "Please." Just for fun, after he took the plate he said, "Thank you."

Adam stood on tiptoes. "Tor elko."

When it came time for the cooking pans, Ben quickly reached to help his son with the heavy items.

"Do," Adam insisted, his hand wrapped around one of the handles.

"It weighs too much for Pa or Adam. But if we work together, we can lift it." He put his hand higher up on the handle. "Ready?"

Adam nodded.

Ben was careful to move the metal pan slowly and to give Adam the opportunity to do at least a bit of the work. "That’s it. I can take it from here." He placed it on the shelf. "Well," he declared as he beamed at the boy. "See what partners can do?"

The blue eyes blinked and Adam leaned forward. "Wot?"

"Partners. That’s when two men work together to accomplish something." Ben watched the puzzlement wrinkle his son’s forehead. "When two men - " he sat on his heels and tapped Adam’s chest and then his. "When two men do together they are partners."

"Pahd-nuh."

"And you, young sir, are the best partner I have ever had."

"Pahd-nuh." Adam tilted his head. "Min?"

"Pa and Adam are men, not ladies."

"Lay-ee!" Adam sat on the floor in laughter. He paused only long enough to say, "Pa lay-ee," and then abandoned himself to giggles as he rolled from one side to the other.

How anyone could have looked at the boy and not smiled was beyond Ben’s understanding. Ben sat on one of the dining chairs and leaned his arms on his knees. Adam’s laughter was not unusual, at least not when they were alone. But this lying on his back, rolling around, grabbing his toes and pulling up his legs - everything combined at one time was unexpected.

When Adam had laughed until his face was pink, he lowered his legs and spread his arms wide. "Wee."

"Read?"

"Do."

Ben’s eyebrows rose. "While you lay on the floor?"

"Wee." Adam rolled his head back and forth.

"Let me see what we have." Ben walked to the bookcase and carefully opened one of the doors. He searched the titles and decided upon a well-used book he had never read, Frankenstein. Little did he know that reading to Adam, with the boy lying on the floor at Ben’s feet, was to become a tradition. On the second night, Ben set about fashioning a rug of sorts so his son would not be resting on the hard wood. On the third night, he decided perhaps he should read to Adam from one of Cooper’s novels instead.

The problem of what to do with Adam during working hours did not occur to Ben until the first day of his new job at the livery. An attempt to block the boy into a corner with a hasty construction comprised of wooden crates was foiled when Adam crawled to the top. Ben raced to the assemblage, fearful that Adam would crash to the floor. He thought he was clever tying a rope around the boy’s waist and securing it to a post until he noticed the rope dangling limply to the floor. The scamp had simply worked and twisted until he had stepped from the loop and quietly slipped away. Ben discovered Adam standing near one of the livery stalls as he watched the smithy fashion a horseshoe.

"What do you think you are doing?" Ben demanded.

The boy pointed. "Fi-uh."

"And what are you doing in here?"

Adam took him literally. He pointed toward the blacksmith as the hammer went "ping" against a fire poker. "Dee fi-uh."

"You should be inside the shop with Pa." Ben did some pointing of his own, toward the door between the livery and the stable.

At that moment, it occurred to Ben to wonder how Adam had opened the shop door. He watched in something akin to horror as the youngster stood on tiptoe and fumbled around until he managed to push the thumb lever and swing the door wide. Ben put his hands to his face and breathed deeply. Oh, thunder, this meant a whole new crop of problems.

Surely there was some way to work and keep watch over a child. Women did it all the time. And if a woman could do it, then so could he. Ben took a deep breath, stood straight, and walked into the shop just in time to see Adam reach for a set of reins and manage to pull three down on top of him.

"Uht," was all that the boy said as he stood with leather strips draped over his head and shoulders.

Ben looked around quickly, saw no customers, and extricated his son from the mess. "Adam, you must not keep wandering about," he scolded.

"He can’t hurt anything in here," Thaddeus Jacobs said from the front doorway.

"That may be." Ben placed the reins where they should be. "But things can hurt him."

Jacobs strolled into the building. "Not badly, there’s only so much he can reach."

Ben looked at the man in disbelief. "He can reach anything he wishes when he decides to climb." He ran his hand through his hair and looked around.

Jacobs tossed his hat to a hook behind the counter. "Just let the boy be."

"Let him be!" Ben waved his arms. "He could bring down half this shop, Jacobs!"

The man leaned against the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles. "We really should call one another by first name." Jacobs patted the top of Adam’s head and then held out his hand to the boy. "Let us discuss what you may and may not touch."

"Cuss," Adam said. "Adam do."

"Fine then." Jacobs pushed away from the counter. "Ah," he motioned toward the area in front of the shop, beside the near corral. "There’s Abraham. He’s decided to stable his horse here. Can you help him, Benjamin?"

Ben looked from Jacobs to Adam to Jacobs. He hoped the man knew what he was doing.

The livery owner shrugged. "If you don’t know how to stable the horse, George can show you."

Of course Ben knew how to tend a horse. "George?" he asked.

"The smith. He’s been around horses all his life. Not the best with people, though. So could you get out there and speak to Abraham before George does?"

Abraham proved to be a genial man who remarked that Ben must be new in town. He engaged in a short conversation before getting to the matter at hand, which was the boarding of his horse during the winter. Abraham would be taking her out three times a week, he said. But he would pay someone to exercise her mildly two additional days. Ben made mental note of the man’s requests and then helped him turn out the mare in the stable. They ended their transaction with a handshake and Abraham welcoming Ben to Cincinnati.

The man had held Ben’s attention so completely that Ben had not noticed how full of activity the shop was. When he stepped inside he found one customer at the counter and two more milling about.

"And who’s your newest worker here?" A man near the counter motioned to something that Ben couldn’t see.

Jacobs looked down. "This is Adam Cartwright, Thomas. He’s a fine helper, isn’t he?"

"He seems more knowledgeable than some men I’ve met." Thomas laughed. "You’ll put that on my bill?"

A wave of Jacobs’ hand assured Thomas that he would do just that. He looked up and his eyes settled on Ben. "And here’s my other assistant, Benjamin Cartwright."

"Mr. Thomas." Ben held out his hand to shake.

The man laughed and shook his head. "Thomas Exeter."

"I’m sorry, I assumed - "

Exeter interrupted, "Thaddeus calls everyone by first name. Pleased to make your acquaintance - Benjamin."

"And I yours," Ben assured. "Thomas."

The man eyed Ben critically. "Related to John Cartwright?"

"My brother."

"I don’t see any resemblance." Thomas jerked his head toward Jacobs as he said to Ben, "The two of you could be brothers, though."

Ben blinked at his employer, who shrugged and returned his attention to the next customer.

From the back of the shop, Ben heard his son ask, "Dis?"

"That’s the one. Now bring it here." Jacobs added up the prices of the items on the countertop. He leaned to one side and lifted a halter. "There ya are, Isaac. And I’ll send that bellows ‘round as soon as George has it ready."

Isaac tipped his hat. He held out his hand when he neared the door. "Benjamin, good to meet you."

"You, too, sir." Ben tried not to sound too distracted.

The man looked over his shoulder toward Jacobs. "Your apprentice, that Adam, is one of the youngest I’ve encountered, Thaddeus." Both men laughed and then Isaac bid one and all a good day.

"Ah, Benjamin." Jacobs motioned to a man who stood waiting for assistance. "Would you help Samuel while I show Adam where we store the harnesses?"

Ben’s son tagged along beside Jacobs toward the door, shy of the stranger standing nearby but determined to be of help. Ben offered the customer a weak smile and asked how he might help - Samuel.

What a wonder Jacobs was. Within the week he and Ben were calling one another by their Christian names. And Exeter - Thomas - had been correct; Thaddeus spoke to everyone the same way. The only man that Ben heard his employer address with a title was the stern-faced Judge Newton. Ben reminded himself to stay on the correct side of the law in Cincinnati because the judge looked as if he’d just as soon kill a man as a mite.

During the following week, Thaddeus cleared a small room at the back of the shop where Adam could play or eat when his services were not required or when his behavior indicated a bit of rest would restore his good nature.

While Ben appreciated what Thaddeus referred to as "Adam’s berth" he puzzled over what other working people did with their children during the day. When he voiced his thoughts to Thaddeus during a rare respite in business, the man shrugged.

"They hand the children off to the others." Thaddeus sipped hot tea from a pottery mug.

Ben didn’t understand. "Others?"

Thaddeus grinned and his eyes wrinkled at the outer edges. "No doubt you’ve no younger sisters or brothers."

"No." Ben’s bewilderment carried through to his tone of voice.

"I had six younger." Thaddeus nodded as Ben’s eyes rounded. "Six younger and four older. The parents hand over the younger children to the older ones for tending. That’s why I ran off when I was a boy. I’d enough of taking care of little ones to last me a lifetime."

Ben could not imagine how a parent might provide for and supervise eleven children. One was enough for him.

"I worked on the boats on the river," the livery owner said as if Ben had inquired as to any earlier professions. "Hard work on those keelboats, and harder men if you crossed them, but they were more honest than you’d judge if you looked at them. If you made an enemy of one, you had him as your enemy the rest of your days. But the same was true if you made a friend of a man." Thaddeus shook his head and ruefully added, "It’s not like it used to be, though. I worked the riverboats a while but they made more noise than a summer storm and the wood they burn! We’ll have no trees anywhere along this river in a few more years. I told Henry to heed my warning. The price of wood will rise as surely as the river in autumn. We’d just as soon be building with brick and stone and such and we’d best find something else to do for flooring."

Ben had nothing to say. He leaned forward a bit to see into the nook where Adam was sound asleep on his blanket in his berth. The boy lay as he always did, sprawled on his stomach with his toy boat clasped in one hand.

"He’s a fine one, Benjamin. You’ve done well by him." Thaddeus swirled the tea around in the mug. "Heaven entrusts them to us. And it’s The Maker we’ll answer to should we render their young lives miserable." He put down the mug and jerked his chin toward the front corral. "Here’s Robert. Poor soul works for the Windthorsts. Care to bet that he’s quit their employ and is leaving town?"

Ben saw the assurance in Thaddeus’ eyes and manner. He declined the wager.

The question of what to do with Adam during the day was solved but there were more than enough smaller tribulations to keep Ben occupied. How in thunder would he be able to work at the livery, cook, wash clothes, have time to buy provisions at the market, keep the house clean, tend to the sundry errands inherent with life in the city, and all the while watch after Adam?

Ben would have liked to hire a housekeeper who could also take care of Adam but there were two reasons he did not. One was monetary. He enjoyed luxuries like dining out or taking Adam to a traveling magic show or a play or a lecture. The other consideration was Adam, who would undoubtedly protest giving up his day job and make Ben’s life even more difficult.

So Ben marched into the month of November with his co-worker, Adam, by his side, and no housekeeper.

His cooking skills had been limited to eggs and ham and stews and broiled meats and baked vegetables so during autumn he decided to experiment. A few days prior he had made curd cheese from milk and vinegar, with fine results – especially when the cheese had been topped with fruit.

Ben knew that when it came to baked goods he faced the most challenges. His attempt at making an apple cobbler had filled the small house with smoke. But he was proud of his first batch of biscuits when he placed them on the table one morning before work. They weren’t as flaky as his mother’s cook’s had been. Nor were they as light as those Jenny had baked in Philadelphia. But they weren’t bad. Not really.

He was chomping his bite of biscuit, holding a cup of tea at the ready to help dissolve what he couldn’t chew, when Adam picked up a biscuit and rolled it on its edge along the tabletop. Thinking his new game great fun, he slid out of his chair and rolled the biscuit along the chair seat. Then he dropped the biscuit. Ben winced and closed his eyes when the thing thudded against the floor. But he quickly opened his eyes when he heard a splash.

Adam was leaning over one of the larger buckets of water in what served as a kitchen, dangerously close to either falling in headfirst or tipping the bucket.

Ben turned in his chair. "Would you like to tell me what you are doing?"

"Do," was Adam’s response. His voice echoed slightly because his head was in the bucket but above the water line. "Uht."

That word could mean only one thing. Something was wrong.

Ben walked to the bucket and sat on his heels beside his son. Adam’s dress sleeves were drenched. His wooden toy boat floated on the water but there was something at the bottom of the bucket. Ben rolled up one shirtsleeve and reached into the cool water to retrieve the item. It was the biscuit.

"No boa-t," Adam explained earnestly.

Ben sat on the floor and studied the wet biscuit. No boat? Adam had thought the thing would float like a boat? Well, actually, it should have. Ben put the biscuit on the surface of the water. He frowned as the thing sank like a stone.

"No boa-t," Adam sighed with a firm shake of his head.

Ben plucked the biscuit from the bottom of the bucket and held the dripping thing at eye level. "It doesn’t float," he said in amazement. Then a new thought occurred to him, the biscuit wasn’t suffering a bit of injury from it’s dunkings. He rubbed at his stomach. Something felt very heavy in there. He rolled his eyes to his young son.

"I think we will have supper at Mrs. Hampton’s Boarding House tonight."

"No ead - Pa?" Adam ventured.

"No, we won’t eat what Pa cooks tonight."

He was a little set back by the boy’s enthusiasm.

Later that morning, as Ben led Abraham’s horse to the corral, Thomas Exeter waved from the road. Thinking the man was merely passing by, and offering a friendly greeting, Ben signaled back and then closed the corral gate, intent on returning to the shop. But Thomas called out to him.

"A trunk in your care has arrived at the dock!" he shouted through cupped hands.

Ben called back his thank you and once again turned his attention to returning to the shop. But this time it was Thaddeus who yelled from the front door of the livery, "Go! Adam will be fine."

After a moment of deliberation, Ben approached Thaddeus, who put his hands on his hips.

"He’ll be fine, Ben."

All the same - Ben leaned to see around Thaddeus and Adam peeked from behind the man’s legs. "Pa is taking a wagon to the boat to bring back something. You will stay with Mr. Jacobs."

The response was a quick, "Do" and then Adam ran toward his berth in the back.

Ben straightened and caught Thaddeus’ amused look. "You don’t do much of anything without telling the boy, do you?" When Ben opened his mouth to respond, Thaddeus gave an impatient sigh. "The trunk, would you go pick up the trunk?"

Ben hitched a horse to one of the smaller wagons and drove along the busy streets toward the river. Was there ever a time when the landings and docks were not filled with activity? The riverboats were by far the most raucous of the vessels that plied the waters from one port city to the next. But all manner of flatboats and keelboats and sailboats moored and moved out at a rate that caused Ben to wonder at the quantity of goods that must change hands on any given day.

Even though there were women and children in the vicinity who were boarding the riverboats, they did well to keep their distance from the commercial craft. There was danger because of the loading and unloading of cargo. But there was also no need for them to hear the rough language or observe the lack of manners of the workers.

Ben had loaded the trunk that Uncle Samuel had sent and was walking around the side of the wagon when his attention was drawn to a slender young woman standing between the riverboat landing and one of the wharves. She was not remarkable in any way, clad as she was in a drab gray dress and grasping a worn piece of baggage in her gloved hands. The overlarge bonnet was what troubled Ben. He’d been too many years on a waterfront not to recognize a lady who wished to depart unnoticed - and was hiding her face. By all rights, she should be able to travel alone without fear for her safety. But in reality that would not be possible. Perhaps the circumstances she wished to leave behind were worse than the risks she faced. Ben prepared to climb to the wagon seat, resolved not to interfere in the woman’s life. Then she turned her head and he recognized her.

"Virginia?" Ben jumped from the wagon and strode toward the girl, as worried about her welfare as he was angry at her irresponsible behavior. "What do you think you are doing?"

She glanced about quickly and tugged the edge of the bonnet nearer her face. "Lower your voice before you draw attention."

"Answer me," Ben demanded.

Virginia tilted her head. "Do not order me about, Benjamin." She came near to losing her footing when he grabbed her baggage with one hand and her arm with the other.

Ben pulled her to the side of a building. "You are leaving without your uncle’s knowledge, are you not?" He held up a finger. "Virginia you have no notion of the danger - "

Virginia yanked her arm from his grasp, or tried to. When the girl did not succeed in that endeavor, she gave him a ferocious frown. "You’ve no right - "

"I am concerned for your safety and that is all the right I require," Ben snapped at her. "You will listen and you will heed what I say."

Virginia closed her eyes as if doing so would prevent Ben’s words from reaching her ears.

Ben took a deep breath and a different tack. He released her arm. "How old are you?"

The green eyes opened warily. "Sixteen."

Ben crossed his arms at his chest. "I grant I judged you that age when I first met you."

She glared at him. He frowned at her. She raised her chin. He leaned back his head and looked from the bottoms of his eyes. She relented.

"Fifteen."

"Virginia - "

The girl slapped at the sides of her skirt. "Fourteen! There, I’ve said it!"

"A girl of fourteen most assuredly should not be alone."

Oh, that stoked her fire. "I am not a girl!" She stamped her foot to emphasize her contention.

Ben lowered his arms. "Virginia, I am concerned that a man - "

The girl blinked and then smiled. "You are jealous."

"Jealous!" Ben shouted. "Have you heard a word I have uttered?"

She clasped her hands near her heart. "You fear that some other man might win me."

"Win you!" He grabbed the girl’s shoulders and gave her a shake. "I fear that some other man might harm you."

Saints help him, she smiled all the more. "And you would be my champion."

"You have read too many fairy tales," Ben opined.

"I must read all manner of stories if I am to be an actress."

"You are a child!"

"Would you quit raising your voice, Benjamin? And I assure you that I am no child."

"Then do not conduct yourself as one." Ben lifted her bag and motioned to the wagon. "I’m taking you home."

"I will leave again," she blustered.

Ben bent close to her and spoke through his clenched teeth. "No, you will not."

At that point she very wisely went quiet, speaking only to direct Ben toward her uncle’s house. As they drove alongside one of the banks, a man’s voice called out.

"You there!"

Ben gave a look over his shoulder and quickly looked again. The man was huge. Not in height, for he looked to be the same as Ben in that regard. But he also looked to be near to half Ben’s height in his width.

"It’s Uncle," Virginia said under her breath.

Ben choked and pulled the horse to a halt. The man did not move swiftly, a fact that provided Ben time to gain self-control.

Mr. Windthorst wore a black hat and coat; he had dark hair and eyes and were it not for the high color in his face he would have been unremarkable.

"What are you about with my niece?" he demanded of Ben as he scowled up from the sidewalk.

Virginia raised a brow at Ben as she answered, "He is escorting me home, Uncle, from a masquerade party."

Saints, she was fast with a lie. She must have had plenty of practice.

"A masquerade this time of day?" Windthorst shook his head.

This was not good. Obviously the man did not believe his niece.

"There are those who do not know the value of work," the man said sadly. "Engaged in frivolity at this hour." He gave Ben a thorough study and then his eyes went to the trunk in the wagon bed.

"Another delivery," Ben said quickly. Virginia thrust an elbow into his side so he added, "Of a different sort."

For a man who was reputedly shrewd in business, Windthorst was certainly easy to mislead. "I thank you for assisting my niece, Mr. - "

"Cartwright, sir. Benjamin Cartwright."

Windthorst frowned. "Any relation to John Cartwright?" His voice was heavy with antagonism.

Oh, thunder. "Yes, sir. John is my brother."

"Virginia, I shall escort you home," the man said sternly as he kept his eyes on Ben.

The girl clamored down to the street before Ben could offer assistance. He reached for her baggage but she rested her hand on the seat and ever so slightly shook her head. "Thank you again, Mr. Cartwright."

Ben smiled in spite of himself.

She lowered her head demurely as she walked in front of the horses and to her uncle’s side.

After touching the brim of his hat, Ben set the horse into a walk and wondered what he was to do with a young lady’s baggage.

He still hadn’t thought of an answer when he drove the wagon up to the house. And he still hadn’t thought of an answer after he placed the trunk in the living area. So he had no answer at all when Thaddeus, with Adam at his side, strolled to the wagon and motioned to the bag by the seat. "Don’t forget that one."

Ben wished he could. He gingerly lifted it and had turned to take it, too, into the house when Thaddeus closed his hand over Ben’s.

"That’s Virginia’s." The livery owner’s eyes narrowed. "What has she persuaded you to do?"

Ben bristled that someone would question his character like that. "Saints, man! She’s a child!"

"And a schemer," Thaddeus said. "Has she involved you in her latest effort?"

Well, at least the man wasn’t accusing Ben of dubious conduct. "What do you mean?’" He set down the bag and shook his head at Adam when the boy stepped forward to examine it.

"She tries every other week to steal aboard one of the riverboats. Not that it would do her any good. The captains all recognize her. Not a one of them is inclined to antagonize Windthorst and lose his trade." Thaddeus nudged the worn luggage with his boot toe. "She’s been attempting to get away since this bag was new."

"Is she ill-treated?"

Thaddeus laughed. "Does she appear ill-treated? She wishes to be an actress. As soon as possible, at that."

"She’s fourteen, Thaddeus."

"How old were you when you went to sea?"

Ben raised his arms. "I was not a girl."

"Could anyone have stopped you from going to sea?"

"No," Ben admitted in a softer voice.

Thaddeus turned to gaze in the direction of the river. "She’ll accomplish it some day, get on a boat and go downriver. She’s a mind to go to New Orleans and board a ship for England. Who’s to say we won’t read of her on stage in a few years?"

A frown formed slowly on Ben’s forehead. "How do you know all this?"

"I’ve stopped her a half dozen times. She attempted to steal a horse from the stable once. She hid under the canvas on a wagon that was bound for Illinois once. The other four times I happened upon her on the street as she walked toward the boats or at the landing when I was collecting freight." Thaddeus lifted the bag and shrugged. "I’ll hold on to it for now. It will be interesting to see how she goes about fetching it back."

Mrs. Hampton’s Boarding House did not offer the opulence of individual tables placed about the room for leisurely dining and private conversation. The place had unadorned wooden walls, a well-scrubbed wooden floor, and one long table at which everyone sat and tried not to bump elbows. But what the dining room lacked in refinement was more than compensated for by the tastiness of the fare. The aroma of the meal met a person at the front door and always delivered what it promised.

The public room was a fine place for making acquaintances as well. Since the meal prices were reasonable, and the portions served were hearty, men of every profession, and a few women, were likely to be sitting next to one another at the table.

As Ben looked around the table, he mentally ticked off the occupations represented: a tailor and his wife the seamstress; the barber who Ben had visited once in the two months he had been in Cincinnati; the wheelwright who took over work on wagon and carriage wheels when George was too busy or not inclined toward the job; the chandler who made some of the best candles Ben had used since Boston; a family of farmers; three peddlers; and a man who claimed to be a doctor but whom Ben wouldn’t have trusted as far as he could spit. He raised his head and smiled in recognition when Thaddeus entered the room and made his way to join Ben and Adam.

"So, young man," Thaddeus said as he patted Adam on the leg. "I see you don’t care much for the pudding."

Adam smiled through dessert-smeared cheeks and thrust his hand into the bowl of bread pudding. He was increasingly insistent that he could feed himself and Ben had conceded the point in the interest of eating his own dinner while it was warm.

Thaddeus sat astride the bench and faced Ben after he had ordered dessert and hot tea. "I want you to ride out to Henry’s with me in the morning."

Ben arched a brow. "It’s Sunday."

The livery owner lowered his voice and leaned closer. "We can go after services if it will assuage your conscience."

"Why are we riding to Henry’s?" Ben jerked back as a wad of bread pudding dropped past him and plopped onto the floor. He gave Adam a warning look and the boy turned a bit more attention to what he was doing.

"He has a horse in which I am interested."

"And why does this involve me?"

Thaddeus glanced about nervously and then answered. "I want your opinion."

"I’m not a judge of - " Ben paused and frowned at his friend’s exasperated expression. "What?"

"If you must know," the man almost whispered, "it’s Adam’s opinion I’m after."

"Adam!" Ben exclaimed.

His son went absolutely still and rolled big eyes to Ben’s face, his lower lip trembling as tears threatened. A few diners stared their way curiously and Ben patted the boy on the back.

"You’re fine, son. I didn’t intend to shout."

"A-gwee?" the worried little voice asked.

"No, Pa is not angry. He is sorry." Ben remembered Adam’s attempt to apologize when he had broken the pipe; he put his lips to Adam’s ear and whispered. "Love."

The youngster’s face brightened straight away and he held a sticky hand toward Ben’s mouth, offering a handful of pudding.

"No, thank you," Ben declined.

"Tor elko." Adam scooted in Ben’s lap and pushed his hand into the dessert once again.

Ben raised his brows at Thaddeus and lowered his voice so as not to embarrass the man. "Did you say you want Adam’s opinion?"

Thaddeus straightened his back and defended himself. "He has a way with horses, Benjamin. Like some Irishmen I’ve known."

Adam’s hand paused in mid-air. "Hord-es?"

"Yes, horses." Thaddeus turned so he was facing the table and then leaned sideways. "There is a horse I want you to see, Adam."

The boy’s dark hair tossed as Adam nodded. "Do, Tad-us."

Ben pulled back and looked at his son from the bottoms of his eyes. "What did you say?"

"Do, Tad-us."

"You will call him Mr. Jacobs. You will not call him Thaddeus."

Adam pointed, dripping pudding onto Ben’s plate. "Tad-us."

"Mr. Jacobs."

The youngster shook his head. "Tad-us. No zay-kob."

"Ben." Thaddeus held his hands palm up. "What does it matter if he calls me by name?"

What did it matter? "It is not respectful," Ben shot back.

"I wager there is more involved in showing respect than the use of a name. Have you not called a man ‘mister’ and loathed him at the same time?"

That was not the point. Ben told Thaddeus as much.

"I would rather be called Tadus than Zaykob. So honor my wishes and allow the boy to call me by my first name."

Ben did not like this. Not one bit. He would not have his child speaking to adults in such a familiar way. He picked up his fork, put it down, picked up his tea mug, put it down, and then fidgeted with his fork.

"So?" Thaddeus prompted. "Will you?"

"I do not approve," Ben pronounced.

"Don’t app- " The livery owner blinked. "I hardly think it is your place to approve of my purchases, Benjamin."

"What?"

"What?"

"Wot?" Adam joined in.

Ben closed his eyes and then rubbed his forehead. "What are you talking about, Thaddeus?"

"What are you talking about?" the man countered.

"Wot?" Adam asked.

Ben chose to ignore Adam for the time being. "I am talking about Adam not calling you by name."

"Calling me - " Thaddeus paused a moment to accept his bowl of bread pudding and mug of tea. "I’m talking about Henry’s horse."

"Henry’s - "

A burst of angry voices shattered the quiet outside. An instant later someone fired a pistol. Ben instinctively put his arms over Adam and pulled him down, below the level of the tabletop. He came close to crashing his head against Thaddeus’.

"What the - " Thaddeus’ curse was drowned out by the roar of a rifle. He and Ben slid under the table and crouched. Ben had only thought the table crowded when everyone was seated. As they huddled on the floor the press was unnerving.

Adam did not care for being crushed against his father’s chest but he protested even more about the noise. Ben waited and listened carefully. The men outside were still shouting, the words were still hot and came fast. Then there were the unmistakable thuds and shouts of a fistfight.

Thaddeus peeked over the tabletop. "I think the gunfire is - " Another pistol report. Thaddeus darted back under the tabletop. He shook his head ruefully. "Why must there be firearms in the mix? There’s something about a fistfight that’s good for a man."

Ben laughed and allowed Adam to sit on the floor between the men, to the side of the dropped pudding. "I haven’t been in a first-rate fight in years."

"Miss them?" Thaddeus squinted an eye.

Ben nodded.

Thaddeus jerked his chin toward the raucous sounds outside. "I’d join in that one if it weren’t for old Judge Newton. He’s an executioner in squire’s clothing." He folded his arms across his chest. "So, will you go to Henry’s tomorrow or not?"

"Yes, I will go to Henry’s. And I’ll bring Adam," Ben said. "And I don’t want him calling you by name."

"That," Thaddeus remarked, "you will have to discuss with Adam."

Ben had pulled a sheet over his sleeping son and had just removed his own shirt in preparation for bed when someone pounded at the door. He tugged the shirt back on, leaving it free of his trousers, and walked into the dining area before calling out, "Yes?"

"Ben," a thick voice replied, "it’s John."

They normally saw each other only at John’s farm during the day on Sundays. Why was John visiting at this time of night?

Ben opened the door and quickly spread his hands across his brother’s chest to prevent John from falling on his face. The smell of whisky was all over him. Ben pulled John’s arm around his shoulders and all but carried him to the chair by the fireside. John slumped into it as if he there were no bones in his body.

After a look into the bedroom that reassured him that Adam was still asleep, Ben lit a candle with a stick from the fireplace. When the flickering light played across John’s face, Ben grimaced at the bruises and dried blood. "What happened?"

"A disagreement." John sounded remarkably sober to be as drunk as he was. "Damned near got shot, too." He dabbed at a crusted scrape on his forehead. "Damned near."

"What are you doing here?"

John frowned. "I can’t go home like this. Not again."

Ben sat on the wooden settle and stated the obvious. "You’re drunk, John."

"Not drunk enough," the man countered. "I can yet feel the end of my nose." He laughed at his joke but then frowned when Ben remained quiet. "I’ve known you to crawl on the floor more than once."

"You’ve known no such thing," Ben denied.

"I heard about it. You and that Angus friend of yours. Even heard when you got arrested in Boston for tearing Elizabeth’s gown off her."

That was none of John’s business. And it hadn’t been that way anyhow. Ben had simply caught his ring in the trim around the bodice of Elizabeth’s dress and - well, the rest had been a misunderstanding.

A wagging finger accompanied John’s admonition not to judge him when Ben was not without fault himself.

"I’m not judging you."

"Damned if you aren’t!" John bellowed. "I can see it in those self-righteous eyes of yours."

Ben glanced toward the bedroom and heard no sound that indicated that John’s outburst had awakened Adam. Reassured that the boy was still asleep, Ben stretched his legs in front of him. "I doubt you can see much of anything very clearly."

"I’m not as drunk as you think."

"But you’re more drunk that you think. What do you want to do? Rest here for the night?"

John answered with a hard nod.

"You’ll have to make do with what you see around you. I’ve no bed to offer."

The man half-stood and managed to tug the chair nearer to the settle. He leaned back and said in a derisive tone, "Thank you for your solicitude."

Ben fetched his coat to lay it across his brother for some measure of warmth. He’d learned as a sailor how chilled an inebriated man could be without knowing. But when he returned to the fireside, John was asleep and pulling in raspy breaths.

For a moment, with his features peaceful and younger looking, John bore that resemblance to their mother that Ben recalled. He moved the settle closer to John’s chair and lifted his brother’s legs, resting the boots on the wooden seat. He didn’t envy John going home the next day, with a head pounding like a hammer on an anvil, to face Patience.

The next morning Adam was up and going at his usual time, just about dawn. He slid off the bed and, dressed in his nightshirt, ran across the cold wood floor toward the dining area. Ben walked after him, tucking his shirt into his trousers and warning the boy to put on slippers or, at the least, socks. Adam stopped so abruptly in front of Ben that Ben almost pitched forward. He grabbed at the doorframe to steady himself and looked in the direction in which Adam pointed.

John was stirring, waving his arms and legs about like a man trying to find his way out of a pile of hay.

"It’s merely Uncle John, Adam." Ben put his hand atop the boy’s head and stepped around him. "Shall we have battercakes for breakfast this morning?"

"Do," Adam replied softly, his eyes remaining on Ben’s brother.

"Please put on your socks, son. And bring Pa the sweater he made for you." Ben fetched a pan down from the shelf, being sure to clatter it about, and tilted his head slightly at his unmoving son. "Adam, do as Pa asks, please."

The youngster turned slowly, his fist in his mouth and fighting to take his eyes off his uncle. Finally, he stepped toward the bedroom and set himself into motion.

"How late is it?" John asked thickly as he sat up in his chair. He groaned and twisted one way and then the other.

"Early light. Breakfast?" Ben grinned and held up the basketful of eggs.

John shook his head and then, judging by his raised brows, wished he had not.

Ben motioned toward the pitcher on the table. "You’ll be needing water, John. Have some salt and tomato, it helps."

"How would you know?" he growled.

After he’d cracked two eggs open, Ben smiled into the bowl. "As you said last night, I’ve crawled on the floor more than once." He added flour and a touch of salt to the eggs.

Ben had fashioned a small wooden box outside the back door in which he could store milk for a short while. He made a point of holding the door open, allowing the chilly air to flow across John. He also made a point of stomping back to the table where he added the milk to the ingredients in the bowl and beat the mixture into a batter. Then, just for the fun of it, he whistled. Loudly.

Ben carried the cooking pan to the three-legged iron stand by the fireplace. He admittedly made more racket than required as he stoked the coals, pulling some under the pan, and laying a piece of wood across the others.

"Not much of a fire," John remarked.

"Adam and I are going out this morning."

"On the Sabbath?"

Ben looked over his shoulder. "Look how you’re going home on the Sabbath."

John leaned forward and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Feel like I’ve been trampled."

"You look it, too." Ben put a thick cloth around the iron arm anchored in the rock on one side of the fireplace and hooked the kettle handle over it, then moved it back toward the fire. A light tap on his back caused Ben to turn.

"Tocks." Adam grasped the socks tightly but offered his sweater.

The boy held out one arm at a time, obediently letting Ben put the sweater on him. Then he sat down nearby and practiced putting on his socks. He was better at it, but still not accomplished. Finally he abandoned the effort. "No tocks."

Ben sat on his heels by the boy and pointed. Adam lifted a foot. "Thunder, Adam, your feet are like ice! As soon as we have these socks on, you put on your slippers."

"No tip-puh."

Ben raised an eyebrow and slowly said, "Ad-am."

The boy slapped his hands on the floor but he didn’t argue. When he had on both socks, he stood and walked slowly, with tiny steps, toward the bedroom. Ben shook his head with amusement and dripped water onto the pan. The droplets did not dance about. The pan wasn’t hot enough yet.

"What age is he?" John stood, moaning as he did so.

Why were people always asking that? "Sixteen months or so." Perhaps he was supposed to ask the same. "And Will?"

"Past two years."

"He looks like you," Ben said.

"Damned if he does. He looks just like Patience." John tested his legs and found them sturdy. "Doesn’t have her temperament, thank the saints." John laughed softly. "Seems Adam has a bit of your spark. Difference is he doesn’t argue with you like you did with father."

Give it time.

John walked back and forth in the room, flapping his arms to bring feeling to them. "So where are you going this morning?"

Ben would give John one thing; he recovered faster from falling into the cups than Ben ever had. The last thing Ben would have wanted the morning after was to make conversation. Well, no, the last thing he would have wanted to do was be back on board with a rolling and pitching sea under him. But conversation came second.

"Henry’s."

"Harrow?"

Ben nodded that they were speaking of the same person.

John rubbed his hands together as he stood near the fire. "Now there’s a fine one." When Ben gave him a startled look, John laughed. "His sister. You’ve not met her?"

"No."

"Ah, then you’re in for a pleasant surprise." He shifted about and then said he would be back shortly.

John did not recover enough to want to eat but he did sit by in the rocking chair while his brother and nephew enjoyed the battercakes. He even ventured a tentative laugh at the way Adam, who was handfeeding himself, covered his face and hands with butter and syrup. "Wouldn’t Mother have fainted at the sight of that?" He motioned Adam’s way.

Ben swallowed his tea and frowned. "Why?"

"Can you fathom what would have become of us if we had been like that at table?"

"We were older, John. We ate in the nursery until we were able to hold our own spoon."

John leaned back and put his hands to his face, lost in laughter. Ben smiled even though he didn’t know what the joke was.

Finally the answer came. "Do you recall the time we had that argument at the table? Saints only know what it was about. It was before Mother died. They’d gone to some dinner party or such. You and I were allowed to dine at the table alone. Greta came in to find us hurling food at each another." He paused and wagged his finger as the memories became clearer. "We had that food all over those silk draperies, that rug Father’d brought in from China, and you knocked over that vase - "

"You broke the vase," Ben corrected.

"And we’d just jumped from our chairs and taken the fisticuffs to the floor when in walked Mother and Father."

"I remember," Ben said. Only too well. His posterior still prickled when he thought about the first time he’d felt his father’s strap.

"That look on Mother’s face was without equal. Her eyes big and round, her mouth open, her hands dropped to her side. She looked like someone had landed a punch and knocked the wind out of her." John wiped at his forehead. "And Father, now there was a picture."

Indeed it had been. Joseph Cartwright had stood in the doorway, holding his gloves in one hand, his hat in the other, and his eyes burned a hole through Ben. He had asked who had started the fight. Ben had admitted that it had been his doing, as it always was. John had pushed and tested until Ben had lost his temper and had started throwing things.

Ben had thought he had known what was coming but he hadn’t by half. After his father had finished with him, Ben had had trouble walking to his bed. He had avoided Joseph for a full week, been painfully polite to one and all, and had plotted how to get back at John. He had never developed a fitting plan that wouldn’t have implicated him.

"You always did get the worst of it," John observed. "Even Mother couldn’t save you that time."

Ben decided to change the subject, perhaps to something unpleasant for John. "Shouldn’t you leave for home soon? Wouldn’t want to miss the noon meal." He hid his smirk by pretending he had dropped a piece of battercake.

"I’m thinking I’ll not go home. Just rent a room at Mrs. Treyhee’s, spend the night, work tomorrow, and then go home."

That ought to put Patience in an even more delightful mood. John had always tried to avoid the consequences of his actions. To Ben’s chagrin, John had usually managed to do it.

A rapping at the door caused Adam to turn in his chair. "Wot?" he called before Ben could swallow.

The person on the other side of the door demanded, "Who is that impertinent pup?"

"Tad-us!" Adam slid from the chair and ran to the door, striving for the handle.

The man peeked in, located Ben, and shrugged. "Your son seems to have invited me in."

Ben pointed to the table. "Adam, your breakfast." That was when he noticed the butter smears all over Adam’s chair and on the tabletop. Housework was never done. Just never.

"John." Thaddeus held out his hand, then leaned back slightly to study John’s scrapes and bruises. "So you were in that brawl we heard last night outside Mrs. Hampton’s. Count yourself lucky that you’re not in front of the old judge again."

Ben put down his teacup. How often did John get involved in these frays? And how did Thaddeus know about them?

Thaddeus and John carried on an easy conversation while Ben dressed Adam and cleaned what kitchen there was. Then the three men and the boy, four men as far as Adam was concerned, stepped into the early morning air. Ben noted that there was frost on the rooftops again. He pulled on his gloves after bidding John goodbye and followed Thaddeus and Adam to the livery.

Adam stood aside while Ben and Thaddeus readied the carriage, then he ran to Ben with his arms spread wide, ready for a new adventure. With Thaddeus driving, Ben was able to hold Adam on his lap. He was hard put to decide whether it was more difficult to control an excited child or a frisky horse.

"So, Ben." Thaddeus’ breath fogged as he spoke. "Do you like the cooler weather?"

Ben snugged Adam’s knit cap over his ears only to watch Adam push it back up. At least the boy didn’t object to the scarf and coat or the boots. Adam was inordinately proud of his new boots and could not understand why he was not allowed to wear them to bed.

"I don’t dislike the cool air," Ben answered.

"Ever go for sleigh rides back home?"

Ben answered that he had. He had played in the snow for hours until his skin had been so cold it had tingled.

"Perhaps we’ll have enough snow for Adam to enjoy this winter." Thaddeus raised his coat collar and looked up at the sky. "Hope this holds until we’re back home."

Ben followed the man’s eyes upward. "Do those clouds mean freezing rain?"

Thaddeus shook his head. "They indicate nothing pleasant, I assure you."

Ben noted that they had turned off the road that led toward, among other things, John’s farm. "Why are you interested in this horse of Henry’s?"

"I’ve a mind to enter a race or two."

"This time of year!"

The man waved a gloved hand. "In spring. I need some time to train him." He raised his brows. "A man can win a handsome purse in a horse race."

"He can lose it, too," Ben said sourly.

"And when did that happen to you?"

Ben should have known that Thaddeus would discern the reason for Ben’s remark. "Last spring in Philadelphia. I lost a month’s earnings."

Thaddeus slowed the horse. "I’d say you got off lightly enough."

Henry’s farm was a step back in time for Ben; reminiscent of the countryside he had known outside Boston and Philadelphia. Despite the fact that he’d grown up in a seaport, the hills and trees and valleys and creeks that had beckoned with adventure had never been far away.

In Boston, John and Ben had only had to walk a short distance to be free of town. Ben had always heeded their father’s preset boundaries, not wishing to be denied access to what he had held dear. John, on the other hand, had invariably gone far afield and often had found himself in undesirable situations, which he had related to Ben as they had walked home. John’s rule breaking had never been found out, not so much due to his cunning as to Ben’s tendency to mislead their father without lying. It wasn’t that Ben had wanted to spare John any due punishment, for their father’s displeasure had been the natural outcome of disobedience, but Ben had known that if John had not been allowed to go beyond town, Ben would not have received permission, either. After all, in their father’s opinion, John had been looking out for Ben and not the other way round.

But in Philadelphia, the rules had been different. Their mother’s parents, and after their death Uncle Hugh, had set no bounds outside the farm, except those dictated by common sense. It had been obvious to Ben from early on that he had been blessed with more common sense than John had been apportioned. John had been the one who had teased at animals; who had jumped into rivers and ponds before ascertaining their depth; and who had stayed out beyond mealtime. Ben had wandered on his own; had learned about the animals by watching them; had studied the rivers’ currents and swirls and had noted the way the water broke around the rocks; and Ben had always returned to the house in time to wash and change clothes, usually with a bountiful supply of scrapes, bruises, and seasonal wildflowers.

They had not always gone their separate ways, Ben and John. Sometimes the brothers had taken food and ridden horses and camped overnight. When each of them had reached the age of ten, their father had shown them how to shoot a pistol and a rifle. Then Joseph had trusted them to take rifles and hunt, much to their mother’s dismay. Ben had often invented elaborate tales of the dangers John and he had encountered, and had emphasized how fortunate they had been to have weapons near at hand. At times like those, their father, who had tolerated no deceit but who had been known to embellish tales of the time he had served as a privateer, had smiled at Ben knowingly. The acceptance in those smiles, and in the gentling of the dark eyes, had sustained Ben for weeks at a time.

All those memories dashed through Ben’s thoughts as Thaddeus turned the carriage toward a home painted in soft blues and reds. Trees surrounded the house, and planting beds sprawled across the front, even in the cool weather boasting a tapestry of colors and texture. The barn, just downslope, was as neat as most homes. And the smells wafting out of the stone detached kitchen caused Ben’s stomach to growl.

"Did I mention we’ve been invited to dinner?" Thaddeus’ amused voice broke the silence.

"Ead?" Adam inquired through the scarf that Ben had pulled over his mouth and nose.

"And a very good meal." Thaddeus slowed the horse. "Sophie has many talents, and one is culinary."

Ben’s brow rose. Sophie?

Thaddeus mistook Ben’s reaction. "Her mother studied Greek. Sophie means ‘wisdom.’"

To Ben it was the name of a woman who had been the hostess of a house of pleasure outside Boston. He snickered and then promptly straightened his mouth. Ben placed Adam on the carriage bench, stepped down, and then lifted the bundled boy to his shoulder.

"Hello, Robert!" Thaddeus waved at a man approaching them from the barn. Ben recognized him as the man who had quit the Windthorsts not long after Ben’s arrival in town. "Have you come to tend my horse, I hope?"

"Aye, sir. She’s a beauty, she is. I’ll keep her so’s she’s no bother to ya, if ya please." Robert turned his attention to Ben. "I keep tellin’ Thaddeus ‘ere that this horse is too good for the likes of him. And a man can see he don’t treat her well. The Maker Himself declares I should ‘ave this horse, give ‘er the attention she’s due. But alas I’ve no means to purchase her from this scoundrel."

Thaddeus slapped the man on the back. "And where’s your employer?"

"Henry?" Robert looked around. "Last I seen of ‘im he was carrying wood to the kitchen." He leaned toward Thaddeus. "Sophie’s cookin’ that Virginia ham with yams, she is."

Ben had an idea of how good the meal would be when Thaddeus closed his eyes in something just short of ecstasy.

"So, I’d best get this poor animal into the barn, then." Robert took the reins and walked beside the horse, which seemed to know the man and nuzzled his neck accordingly. "Always the horses," Robert lamented over his shoulder, "never the ladies."

Adam looked from Thaddeus to Ben as the men broke into laughter. After a moment of consideration, he decided to join in and clapped his mitten-clad hands.

"It’s about time!" Henry called as he came around the house.

Being at ease around Henry Harrow had taken some time for Ben, though for what reason he would have been hard pressed to explain. The farm owner was a small man with a thick beard and moustache and one of the strongest grips Ben had felt. "Did you sleep half the morning?" He shook hands with Thaddeus and then Ben. Adam promptly turned his face to the shoulder of Ben’s coat but quickly changed his mind when Henry said something about the horse that Thaddeus had driven out to see.

The men’s boots made a crunching sound as they walked on the leaves toward a paddock that was sheltered by evergreen trees. And there he was. The tallest, most broad-chested roan gelding Ben had ever seen. He didn’t realize his mouth was open until he felt the cold air in this throat.

"You have a good eye," Henry praised Thaddeus. "I wouldn’t sell him to every man."

"That’s because of your asking price," Thaddeus quipped. He leaned on the top rail.

"Is he just as fine as he was two days ago?" Henry turned toward Ben. "Thaddeus has been here three times this week to admire the horse."

"Hord-es," Adam whispered. He rested his head near Ben’s ear and Ben felt the warmth of the boy’s breath.

"He’s a beautiful horse, isn’t he?" Ben answered softly.

Thaddeus held his arms out and Adam went willingly to sit on the man’s hip. The small hand waved toward the paddock. "Hord-es."

"So what do you think?" Thaddeus bounced Adam slightly. "Do you like this horse?"

The boy’s blue eyes studied every curve of the horse’s body and then roved to Thaddeus’ face.

"Do you think we need this horse at the livery?"

Adam nodded slowly. "Do."

Thaddeus held his hand out to Henry. "I’ll take him."

The dark-haired man twitched and then pointed at Adam. "This is your expert?"

"He’s never disappointed me." Thaddeus patted Adam’s leg.

Henry looked down and shook his head. "You’ve been too long at the whisky." Then he squinted one eye. "Never let you down, you say?"

"Not once."

The man rubbed at his chin. "How’s he at foretelling a race?"

"Haven’t tried him at that. I have to speak to his father."

Asking Adam to look over a horse was folly enough as far as Ben was concerned. Now they were talking of having him predict a horse race? How foolish could a grown man be? Ben considered some of his past actions and granted that a man could be more foolish than he cared to recall. He stood back a moment, waiting to follow the older men and Adam along the yard-wide path to the front door.

"Pa." Adam held out his arms.

He lifted the child over Thaddeus’ shoulder and cradled Adam to his neck.

"Dub," Adam murmured.

Ben wondered what had brought that about. "Pa loves Adam, too," he said softly.

He felt Adam nod. "Do," he assured. His little body went limp. Ben pulled his head back and looked down his nose. Adam was fighting to keep his eyes open. Apparently buying horses was tiring work.

There was always something about a woman’s presence that changed a home in small ways. Perhaps it was the non-utilitarian items scattered about. Pretty bowls too valuable to hold food or floating flower blooms. Delicately formed porcelain figures. Paperweights of a quality and color Ben had not seen since Italy. A painted canvas rug on the parlor floor, its bright yellow and red flower design surrounded by a black and white check. But the most telling sign of a woman’s presence in the comfortable parlor was a slat basket containing crewel embroidery.

Ben noted the blue and white needlework as he undressed Adam layer by layer near the fireside. First the mittens and the scarf and the cap. Then the coat. Then the sweater. Then the knitted leggings Ben had fashioned to cover Adam’s drawers. And finally beneath it all emerged a slender little boy with sleepy blue eyes and bright pink cheeks. Ben turned to hand Adam’s outerwear and his own to the maid and saw her smile as she looked past him.

"Dear lamb," she said. "I’ll fetch him a pillow."

Adam was soon on his stomach on the canvas rug, sound asleep.

"I envy him that ability." Henry handed his two guests their drinks.

"Had you a clear conscience instead of being a horse trader you might rest easy, too," Thaddeus observed with humor in his voice.

Several wing chairs were positioned around the room, as well as two settees and a highboy. Ben chose the chair nearest the fireplace and Adam, quickly rising to accept the pillow from the maid. He placed his glass on a nearby table, lifted the boy, and then rested Adam atop the pillow. Ben glanced back when something soft touched his shoulder and smiled his thank you to the maid for the woven wool blanket. He had just positioned it over Adam’s back when he heard Thaddeus and Henry rise to their feet.

The woman in the doorway was not the prettiest Ben had ever seen but she was one of the smallest. She was somewhere between his age and Thaddeus’. She looked to be several inches below five feet in height and her wrists were less large around than Adam’s upper leg. Hair the color of bleached wheat was piled atop an oval face whose striking feature was dark round eyes. Her deep green dress had a neckline cut like a "V," the style Elizabeth had preferred. Her smile, while radiant, was too conniving for Ben’s liking.

"Gentlemen." She inclined her head slightly and gathered her skirts.

Henry placed his hand behind her shoulder and raised his glass toward Ben. "Regina, may I introduce Benjamin Cartwright. Ben, my sister, Regina."

"Ma’am," Ben replied. He extended his hand toward his son’s prone body. "My son, Adam."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Cartwright. Thaddeus speaks highly of you."

Ben started to quip that she obviously had confused him with someone else Thaddeus had mentioned but she did not look the type to appreciate humor on the Sabbath or much of any other time.

The men waited until she sat on the settee before they returned to their chairs.

"He’s done it." Henry poured a cup of tea for his sister. "Thaddeus has bought Mercury."

Mercury? What kind of name was that for a horse? Ben cast a look at his friend who frowned at him to keep his thoughts to himself.

"No doubt with the spring races in mind," Regina said knowingly. "Are you a gambling man, Mr. Cartwright?"

Ben came close to choking. "I beg your pardon?"

She laid an arm across her lap. "Do you wager on the races?"

"Uh - on occasion, yes."

Regina considered Ben’s answer as she sipped from her teacup. "And are you not offended by the exchange of money on the Sabbath?"

Oh, thunder. What was she about? Ben had never been good at straddling a fence but he might be able to subtly suggest the woman pursue a different subject. "It is not my place to instruct others as to their behavior." There, that had been a satisfactory answer.

Her light eyebrows rose toward her hairline. "So this type of action is condoned in Philadelphia?"

"Madam, in Philadelphia they close off the streets so that no one may ride about on horseback on the Sabbath." He frowned into his glass. "It’s the most dreadful day of the week for those inclined to enjoy the Maker’s creations."

Thaddeus cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. "You will learn, Regina, not to ask a man of Ben’s background for his opinion unless you are prepared to hear it."

"You are not a man of worship?" The woman continued what was beginning to sound like an inquisition to Ben. "You know that we are all charged to lead men to the Truth, Mr. Cartwright."

Oh, double thunder. Best to end this here and now. "I appreciate your interest in my immortal soul, Miss Harrow. And so I may put your mind at rest, I assure you I am most certainly a man of faith and regularly warm a church bench." Maybe that would not only put her mind at rest but also her mouth.

But luck was not with Ben as he sat growing warmer by the moment in the Harrow house, thinking it might more appropriately be called the harrowing house.

"And were you reared in the Quaker faith?" Regina inquired.

Ben looked to her brother, wondering why the man did not suggest they change the subject. From the way Henry was staring despondently at the fire, Ben judged the man had given up on that endeavor some years earlier.

"How were you reared, Miss Harrow?" Ben countered, his voice lowering. He sensed, more than saw, Thaddeus tensing. "Are you aware of the Christian faith?"

The woman sat so straight her back could have been an iron rod. "I am of the Christian faith, Mr. Cartwright."

Ben’s eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon. I saw no signs of - "

Thaddeus took on a coughing fit and the sound of it roused Henry into movement.

"What news is there from town?" he asked of the livery owner.

Regina opened her mouth to speak but Thaddeus was faster. "Windthorst is causing trouble."

"That’s hardly news," Henry opined.

"Actually it is," Thaddeus said. "He’s upset with Randolph’s opinions in the newspaper. He means to buy the press."

Henry sat as straight as his sister and crossed his legs at his ankles. "Randolph would never sell," he declared.

Thaddeus took a deep, chest-raising breath. "Windthorst isn’t leaving him much choice, Henry. He’s intimidated the advertisers, told them that if they continue to trade with Randolph then Windthorst will not patronize their businesses." He was realistic about the situation. "The merchants don’t like the man’s maneuvers but they have to put food on their tables."

"This is an outrage," Henry objected. "Windthorst owns one newspaper already. Would he compete with himself?"

"He’ll close down Randolph’s," Ben stated what he found to be the obvious answer.

Henry pointed at Thaddeus. "If Windthorst’s not stopped here, there is no telling who he’ll be after next."

Thaddeus gave Henry’s observation a shrug. "He’s the type who won’t be happy until - Sophie!" Thaddeus quickly stood and crossed the room to take the hand of a woman wearing a dress the color of a daffodil. She had the same light hair and dark eyes as Regina - in fact she was the image of Regina. But how two women could evoke such different responses in Ben baffled him. Her eyes were as bright as her sister’s but held humor. And her smile was just as radiant but projected an inner peace.

"Sophie," Thaddeus repeated as Ben and Henry rose from their chairs. "This is my friend, Benjamin. Ben, Miss Sophie Harrow."

The woman stepped forward and extended her hand. "Hello, Benjamin. I am delighted to meet you at last."

Ben made to raise her hand to his lips but she meant to shake hands. He did so with a wide grin, twinkling eyes, and the knowledge that Sophie, and not Mercury, was the reason for Thaddeus’ repeated visits to the Harrow farm.

Sophie bent her knees and lowered herself to look at Adam as he slept. She ever so gently put her hand to the boy’s hair and then looked up at Ben. "And this beautiful child," she said, "is Adam."

In an instant, Thaddeus sat on his heels beside her. "When he awakens, you will find that everything I have told you about him is true as the Good Book."

"Really, Thaddeus," Regina scolded.

Ben caught the rolled eyes of Sophie and Thaddeus.

Sophie stood, holding on to Thaddeus’ strong hand though she had no need to, and addressed everyone. "Shall we make our way to the dining room?" she suggested. Then she turned to Ben. "Is it wise to leave him unattended?" she asked of Adam.

Thaddeus answered before Ben could. "He’s a fine boy, Sophie. Not inclined to meddle with a fireplace, if that’s what you mean." He winked at her. "His father’s seen to that. And he’s far enough away that even should he roll he’ll not be in danger. But if it will put your mind to ease - " The man lifted a drop-leaf table and placed it between Adam and the cause of Sophie’s concern so the legs would keep Adam from rolling to his right. He rubbed his hands together. "Now might we partake of that ham I’ve been smelling since I drove up?" He held out his arm for Sophie, as Henry did for Regina.

Ben set down his sherry glass and tagged along behind.

By the time they had finished the soup, and the main course had been served, Ben had discerned what it was that he didn’t like about Henry Harrow. No matter what the subject, no matter what the observation, no matter who the speaker, the man had nothing to say that offered insight or hope. Ben slid his eyes toward Regina and thought he understood a bit of Henry’s blighted view of life. How, then, to explain Sophie?

A person could not have dampened Sophie’s enthusiasm with all the water in the sea. Hers was not a delight that bounded about like an untrained colt. Rather it was an acquired enjoyment of all around her and a deep belief in the intrinsic goodness of life.

No wonder Thaddeus was so taken with the woman.

And there was no doubt whatsoever that Thaddeus was taken with the woman. His eyes rarely left her except when his dining required it. He listened not idly but with great thought and he challenged her statements more than once.

Sophie merely raised her chin at his assertions and said that he was most assuredly guaranteed his freedom of expression. And then she would ever so softly add, "But it is understood that I possess the superior knowledge."

Ben liked her on that account and because she cooked the best meal he’d tasted since before his mother had died. Elizabeth had been beautiful and fiery and over-blessed with intelligence and humor. But the love of his life had not had the slightest idea of how to boil water, much less present a dining experience such as this. Of course, food had rarely been on Ben’s mind when he had been anywhere around his wife. Neither had the downstairs.

"And what’s that about?" Thaddeus jabbed at Ben.

"What?"

"What?" Thaddeus mocked. "Your thoughts were obviously not about the music school."

Ben darted a look around the table, skipping over Regina. "What music school?"

Thaddeus raised a hand palm up. "See?" he said to Sophie.

"We were discussing," Sophie said with supreme grace, "the students at my music school."

Ben leaned forward and then remembered to keep his elbows off the table. "Music school? I know of no music school."

Thaddeus laughed deeply as he lifted his wine glass. "Well, it’s not near the taverns, Ben."

Ben shot his friend a look and heard, from across the table, Regina’s "ha-rumph" of displeasure.

"I am sure that Ben has strolled in front of the school frequently, Thaddeus." Sophie met Ben’s eyes and he warmed inside and out.

Never mind that she was older than Ben, if Thaddeus weren’t expressing such an obvious interest in the woman -

She smiled, fully aware of the effect she was having on Ben. "My music school is two doors from your brother’s shop."

"Brother?" Regina’s voice was as discordant as a badly tuned violin. "John Cartwright is your brother?"

"In deference to age, Benjamin is John’s brother," Thaddeus replied in a mocking tone that escaped the woman.

"And you profess to be Christian?" Regina exclaimed.

"This is not the time," Henry cautioned.

"As I was saying," Sophie resumed her conversation with Ben, "my music school is not far from John’s shop. Do you have any musical skill?"

"The man is an incurable whistler." Thaddeus accepted another serving of ham. "Insufferably cheerful tunes."

"No doubt indulged in early in the day." Sophie smirked at Thaddeus and then winked at Ben.

Winked! This woman was even bolder than Elizabeth had been, for Elizabeth had not winked at Ben until the second time they had seen each other. Ben frowned at his friend. What the Zeus was the man thinking, not having her for his wife already?

They were lingering over the remains of the dinner when a small voice called, "Pa" from the parlor. Ben immediately excused himself and by the time he stepped into the room Adam sat rubbing his eyes, a picture of bewilderment.

"We are at the house where Thaddeus bought the horse," Ben explained as he lifted the boy.

Adam wiggled around and twisted his lips. Ben knew what that meant. But where would he find -

"Upstairs," Sophie said softly at his left shoulder. "The first door to the right. You should find all that is required."

Ben gave her a grateful nod.

"And when you are ready, Adam, we shall join Robert and Eve as they eat," Sophie said.

"Ead," Adam repeated after a yawn.

"Never have I seen such beautiful eyes," Sophie remarked, then put her hand to Ben’s back. "Along with you now. Thaddeus will guide you to the pantry."

When it was time to return downstairs, Adam indicated to Ben that he was not about to be carried. So, one step at a time, they made their way to the ground floor, Adam holding Ben’s hand while the boy looked about as if he would be quizzed on his surroundings.

"So there the pup is." Thaddeus held out his arms when Adam took the last step. The boy laughed and clapped his hands as Thaddeus held him high.

Hoping to ease the strain of having been bent to one side holding Adam’s hand for what seemed like an hour, Ben twisted from one side to the other, and then quickly stepped behind their guide.

"We have a fine meal ready for you." Thaddeus bounced Adam in his arms as he led Ben to the pantry. "Ham and potatoes and the best squash you’ve tasted. And there’s fresh milk, too." He opened the door into a moderately sized room that was lined on three sides with floor to ceiling shelving behind wood-framed glass doors. Ben was so busy admiring the porcelain and crystal displayed on the shelves that he bumped into the square dining table.

He uttered a quick apology to Robert and a woman who sat across from him, the woman named Eve who had served their meal. To Robert’s side, Sophie sat with her hand around the stem of a wine glass.

"Do join us," she invited. Ben followed the direction of her attention to his son. "I believe Adam would rather sit with Benjamin," she suggested to Thaddeus. In response, Adam held out his arms to Ben and then, as Ben had expected, burrowed his face into Ben’s shoulder.

Ben sat in the chair that Thaddeus indicated and tried to coax Adam to sit on his leg. But the boy clung tight to Ben’s neck.

"Adam." Sophie leaned back in her chair and smiled at Ben. "Has no one told you there is bread pudding after you eat?"

The boy’s head swiveled so quickly that Ben expected to hear the slender neck pop. Adam bent his knees and sat on Ben’s thigh. "Ead," he requested.

There was no air of employer and servant between Sophie, Eve, and Robert. They called one another by name, as Thaddeus did with everyone he knew. Except the Judge. Ben doubted that the Judge’s poor wife even called him by name.

Jokes and quick wit bounced around the pantry table as quickly as the laugher echoed off the walls. All the while, Adam ate whatever Ben presented to him and watched his fellow diners with rapt attention.

When Sophie, not Eve, brought the bread pudding to the table, Adam leaned forward excitedly.

"He’ll have it everywhere," Ben cautioned as she offered a serving to the boy.

Eve, who was tall and robust, held out her hands. "I see nothing that can not be washed, do you?"

Well, no, Ben didn’t. He heard Adam’s hand squish into the dessert and wondered how much he would have to wash out of the child’s hair this time. And then Adam did something Ben would not have believed had he not watched it happening. Adam offered a handful of pudding to Sophie, which she politely suggested he enjoy himself.

After one of Thaddeus’ jokes, which caused Ben to laugh long and hard, Adam released his contagious giggle and then clapped his hands, spattering both Robert and Eve with flecks of pudding. They gave no sign that they were bothered.

Ben narrowed his eyes when Thaddeus rested a hand around Sophie’s neck in a way that caused the woman to close her eyes slowly. It was just as well that Regina did not believe in indulging in dessert on the Sabbath. The easy familiarity between Sophie and Thaddeus would have caused her to fall to her knees, begging Heaven to forgive her sister’s obvious pleasure in Thaddeus’ touch.

"You’re a fool," Ben decreed the moment Thaddeus directed the carriage toward town.

"No, I’m not." Thaddeus snapped the reins smartly. "When I decide to take Mercury to the livery that is yet one more reason to visit and share a meal with Sophie."

Ben’s chin jutted. "You should be sharing every meal with her."

"In time."

Adam stood between the men, looking out the opening in the back of the carriage top. His small hands clasped the top of the seat and he bounced by continually bending and straightening his knees. Ben kept a hand to the boy’s back and said to Thaddeus, "No man is guaranteed time. Marry her now."

"Are you ordering me about, Benjamin?"

"If need be, yes. Saints, Thaddeus, how much woman do you need?"

"So you like her?"

He waited for a response but received none. "You are a middling judge of horses, you have a well-trained eye for women, but sometimes I am confounded by your inability to see what is before you."

"What does that mean?"

"Have you noticed the activity at my house of late?"

Ben turned his eyes to the sky. He could have sworn that had been a small snowflake that had landed on his coat sleeve.

"I am making it more suitable for Sophie." Thaddeus laughed heartily when Ben whirled toward him. "She is preparing for the wedding now. We’ve not said anything because she doesn’t want Regina getting involved."

"It would be the only wedding Regina comes near. She’s not likely to find but the most desperate man."

Thaddeus paused and lowered his voice. "You don’t know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"About Patience and John?"

"I know they married when I was at sea. And they moved here after my father’s death."

Thaddeus showed every sign of being aggravated with himself. He looked over his shoulder at Adam so he would have time to think. When the man finally spoke, Ben could tell that it gave him no pleasure. "Patience and John lost two children before Will was born. After Patience lost the second child, John sent her to be with her mother, hoping the familiar would restore her soul."

"Obviously it didn’t," Ben muttered. There it was, another small snowflake.

"But it did," Thaddeus corrected. "She came back as winsome and full of life as a young maid." He looked at the sky. "I saw a snowflake."

"I’ve noted a few, too. Patience returned winsome and full of life," Ben prodded.

"I recall one year when the snow started like this and - "

"Thaddeus."

The man gave Ben a look designed to remind Ben who was the elder of the two. "Insolent pup."

Adam turned to look at Thaddeus.

Ben jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "He’s the pup."

"And you are incorrigible."

"In- " Ben turned on the seat, his knee bent, to face Thaddeus. "You’re the one gambling on Saturday and enjoying the taverns every night."

"Not on the Sabbath," Thaddeus corrected.

"They aren’t open on the Sabbath."

"And don’t raise your voice. You’ve a bad habit of that."

"I’ll shout any time I wish."

"Yes, you usually do." Thaddeus pointed to his coat pocket. "Look quickly. See that flake?"

Ben threw up his arms as he turned on the seat then quickly put a hand behind Adam. "Yes, I see the flake." He spoke into the cold air, "All I want from you is this story you are determined to fashion into some novel of formidable length. What about Patience and John?"

"Ah! See, two now! No, make that three. Three snowflakes."

Ben crossed his arms at his chest

"Has anyone ever spoken to you about your temper, Benjamin?"

"Don’t, Thaddeus."

"We shall let that be for now and return to Patience and John."

"Before I die, please."

Thaddeus opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "If you interrupt, I will not continue," he warned.

Ben nodded.

"Patience returned."

"Winsome and full of life."

"Benjamin - "

Ben held up his free hand in surrender.

Thaddeus bit at his lower lip. "Patience was away. There was talk that she would not return. No letters to John. No word of her. During Patience’s absence, Regina and he - "

Ben nodded that he understood.

"They were bold about it. Attended social affairs, dined out, sat in church together."

So, John thought Patience gone forever? Well, at least he had been truthful about his dealings with Regina; he hadn’t kept them secret and lived a lie. But if he had truly thought Patience would never return, why hadn’t he married -

"Patience returned," Thaddeus said. "She went back to the farm with John, she had more children, Will lived."

"And now?"

Thaddeus pointed skyward and Ben blurted, "Yes, I see the snow!"

"Dis?" Adam asked curiously.

"Snow," Ben answered.

"Zno."

"What about now?" Thaddeus gave Ben a worried look.

"Do John and Regina still - visit each other?"

"I’ve no idea."

"You knew before."

"They were younger, Ben, indiscreet. If I had to place a wager on it, I’d say not. He finds more pleasure at Mrs. Treyhee’s." Thaddeus spoke before Ben could question. "He boasts about it to any man with ears." Then he turned thoughtful. "When you’re a bit older you’ll know that problems and their resolution are never as simple as they seem."

"When I’m wise like you, I suppose?"

"Stay your course and you won’t live to know."

Their eyes met and one slow, begrudging smile greeted another.

"You are incorrigible," Thaddeus said.

Ben looked from the bottoms of his eyes. "Thank you."

"Tor elko!" Adam exclaimed, then he began counting the snowflakes. "Zno. Zno. Zno, zno, zno - "

Thaddeus moaned. "He isn’t going to do that the remainder of the drive."

Ben slid down in the seat and stretched his legs. "Care to place a wager?"

The snow had covered the ground, and dusted the rooftops, by the time Thaddeus and Ben tended the horses at the livery. To Ben’s relief, Adam was not inclined to explore the wonders of the white world. He picked up enough snow to coat his mittens, said, "Zno" for the thousandth time, and then ran ahead of Ben to struggle with the front door lock.

Ben started a fire, cooked, played with Adam, and then decided to pull the mattress into the living area so Adam and he could benefit from the fireplace on one side and the cast-iron stove he had purchased to warm the eating area.

Adam thought the mattress on the floor a marvelous entertainment. He ran on top of it, saying, "Noid" with every third step. Finally, wearing his nightdress and covered by a blanket, he lay down as instructed and listened as Ben read. When he wasn’t quite ready to close his eyes, he requested a song. He politely waited until Ben finished the last chorus before saying, "Pa?

Ben leaned back in the rocker and crossed his right boot to his left knee. "Time to sleep, Adam."

"Do."

"Your eyes are open."

The dark lashes closed over the blue eyes.

"Pa?"

The glowing logs shifted, then settled.

"Yes."

"Zno."

"Yes, it is snowing."

"Pa."

"No more talking, Adam." Ben rocked the chair, thinking how it reminded him of gentle waves gliding into shore.

Adam kicked his foot. He slid his hand around on the mattress. "Pa."

"Sleep."

"Zno."

"Um hum." Ben closed his eyes again.

"Hord-es. Ead. App-ee. Zno. Tad-us."

Ben opened an eye. So that’s what this was about. Adam was talking himself to sleep. There was a longer pause between each word.

"Hord-es. . . zno . . .Tad-us . . . . Ad-am . . . . Pa. . . . . wiv-uh . . . . . boos. . . . . noid . . . . . . Pa . . . . . . zno . . . . . . hord- "

Only the gentle crackling of the fire and the soft sigh of a sleeping boy now. And the creak of the rocking chair. No wind. Not enough snow to make that rain-like sound that Ben recalled from his youth. Only the whispery sounds of night. And his thoughts. Always his thoughts.

During the day, Ben’s mind was busy with work and watching Adam and tending the house and being sure they had provisions to cook and seeing to their clothes and writing letters to Uncle Samuel, Aunt Bridget and Uncle Hugh, and all the other countless jobs that consumed those hours from dawn to early night.

But it was these hours, from the time Adam drifted into sleep until the time that Ben’s eyes finally burned to much to keep open that sometimes were hard to pass. Not always. He read. And Zeus knew he had knit everything that Adam or he could require for the remainder of the winter. He mended clothes. Blacked boots. Replaced candles. Cleaned the glass chimneys on the lamps. There was, however, only so much noise he could make without disturbing Adam.

This night Ben did not want to read. The endless chores could wait. What a day it had been.

Wouldn’t Elizabeth have had a time of it today? No doubt her tendency to not keep her thoughts to herself would have made the dinner all the more interesting. Her comments to Regina would have been scathing, delivered always with a smile and an air of supreme courtesy.

Elizabeth would not have been happy with the news about John and Regina. She would have sworn that, had she been Patience and returned to find another woman on her husband’s willing arm, her spouse would have rued his every breath from that day forward. Ben knew firsthand that when Elizabeth had been overly irritated she had been most unpleasant to be around. Not even a teasing smile or a kiss on the neck had dissuaded her of her anger.

Eventually though, she had come around. She had always come around. And then life had been grand, indeed.

Ben squinted at the bookcase. He glanced over at Adam, sleeping so soundly Ben could scarcely see the little back rise and fall. Ben looked back to the bookcase. How, he wondered, did events progress in that book he’d set aside? That one titled Frankenstein.

He eased the bookcase door open, slid the volume from the shelf, quietly made his way back to the rocking chair, opened the book, made himself comfortable - and promptly fell asleep.

He woke the following morning to a chill in the house, a stiff neck, and Adam’s babbling. What a sight the boy was, enthroned in the very middle of the mattress and making himself ready for the day. His dress was inside out, and backwards. He’d managed to put it over his head but had gotten only one arm in a sleeve. On one foot he wore the front half of a slipper and he leaned forward, his tongue sticking from the side of his mouth, as he attempted to put on a sock.

Ben rubbed his hands across his face, feeling the stubble on his cheeks and thinking, again, of growing a beard. He stood slowly, worked at the coals, and added firewood.

"Shouldn’t we see to a few - necessities before you dress?" he suggested to his son.

"Coah."

"Yes, it is cold. But the fire will soon take care of that." Ben glanced around. "Where is your night dress?"

Adam twisted to point to the bedroom, then waved the sock about, turned it a different way, and decided to see if it would go on his bare foot toe first.

The boy had had time to undress and dress? How long had Adam been awake before Ben? The thought of what he might have been about, and how he might have been hurt, tightened Ben’s chest.

But nothing was amiss. And Adam was, after all, a well-behaved child most of the time. Perhaps Ben had been overwatchful of his son, perhaps Adam was more able to take care of himself than Ben had thought.

Ben held out his hand to Adam, giving him a questioning raised eyebrow. "Let’s attend to needs and then we’ll eat."

Adam stood, one foot teetering inside the slipper. "Ead." The moment they stepped away from the fire, Adam pushed against his father. "Coah."

"Yes, well, we can take care of this quickly." Ben carried Adam to the bedroom, where their breath fogged, and to the chamber pot. As he had predicted, they did not stay overlong.

Ben rubbed Adam’s arms and legs as the boy stood before the fireplace and then he cooked a quick soup of chicken broth and vegetables. Father and son sat on the mattress, the son with a scrap of canvas around him and another beneath him and enjoyed their breakfast in front of the crackling logs.

Then they did as they had fallen into the habit of doing every morning. Adam stood atop an overturned bucket with his hands against the wall for balance as he watched Ben shave He paid rapt attention as if he would be doing the chore next. Then he sputtered and complained when Ben insisted on brushing his teeth. And Adam had no patience with his father’s combing of his long, dark hair. This morning, though, Ben leaned back and frowned.

"I believe you are as tired of those curls as I am," he said. He sat Adam on the table and reached for his razor.

Adam twisted and rounded his eyes.

"It won’t hurt, I assure you. Pa keeps this blade sharp." He wondered for a moment what trimming Adam’s hair would do to the razor but decided it could cause no damage that a good stropping wouldn’t repair. Slowly, gently, constantly speaking to the boy, Ben slid the razor along Adam’s hair, cutting it to a stylish length at the side. Adam watched the severed locks drift to the floor and to the tabletop beside him. He finally picked up a long curl and played with it by stretching it and watching it spring back.

"There," Ben announced proudly as he stepped back to judge his work. Yes, indeed, it was the popular look of ancient Roman emperors. A bit ragged, not quite even, but Adam’s waves and curls would make up for that. Wouldn’t they?

Amazing how large Adam’s eyes appeared now that the hair was shorter on his forehead. He looked a bit older, too. No longer the baby, more the boy. And what a handsome boy Adam would be. Thank the saints he resembled Elizabeth so greatly.

"Want to see?" Ben set aside the razor.

The frown that Adam gave his reflection in the mirror caused Ben to lower his head to hide his smile.

"Ad-am?" the boy asked.

"Just as always."

"Ad-am." He put his finger to the mirror over Ben’s reflection. "Pa." He turned his hand palm up, looked at it, and then pressed it against the mirror.

"Now Adam’s hair is like Pa’s hair."

Adam shook his head. Again he pointed to himself, with the thick, dark hair, and then to Ben, with his curlier, reddish hair. "Ad-am. Pa."

"What I mean is that Adam’s hair is shorter like Pa’s. No hair in your eyes." Ben ran his fingers down Adam’s forehead and the tickling elicited a giggle.

After putting the boy on his feet, Ben asked, "So what will Thaddeus think of this new Adam?"

The boy ran to the settee, grabbed his coat, and hurried back to Ben.

"Who is this?" Thaddeus asked when Adam pranced into the livery shop.

"Ad-am."

Thaddeus rubbed his chin. "I know Adam Cartwright. He’s a young one. You are half-grown."

The boy came as close to skipping around the shop as he could manage. He returned to stand before Thaddeus. "Ad-am."

"Are you certain?" Thaddeus bent his knees to lower himself to Adam’s height. "You don’t look like Adam."

"Do."

Thaddeus held Adam’s chin and tilted the boy’s head one way and then the other. "Benjamin, did you know this is Adam?"

The child laughed, clapped his hands, and almost-skipped again.

"I’ll be introducing you to everyone who comes in the door. They’ll not know you at all," Thaddeus announced.

Ben’s cheeks hurt he smiled so much that day. With every customer who came in, Thaddeus made an elaborate show of introducing Adam. Ben’s son’s usual shyness fell away as easily as the snow drifted to the ground outside. He walked about with importance, swinging his arms wide and making a great show of fetching items for Ben or Thaddeus. Ben had to step into George’s work area to laugh into his hand after he caught sight of Adam standing with his little arms folded over his chest in perfect imitation of his employer.

The moment they left the livery, Adam resorted to his retiring manner and his well-practiced habit of hiding his face in Ben’s shirtfront. But from that day forward, when Adam was in Thaddeus’ shop, he was a serious, attentive, and exceedingly mature worker.

By early December, Ben had read every news report about explorations in the West that he could get his hands on. He’d nearly ruined periodicals from overuse and he’d studied maps until he could see them with his eyes closed. The most interesting information of late was that a man named Walker had started a town on the Missouri. Independence he called it. Some businessmen anticipated the settlement would be a provisioning stop for travelers bound for the Platte River. Other entrepreneurs were of the opinion that there was not enough commerce in the area. They predicted the town would fail within three years.

Ben did not hold with such pessimistic attitudes. Activity had been increasing every year in the West. Becknell had gone into the Rockies on a trading expedition and then turned south toward Mexico. His trail, combined with another track, provided one possibility for travel. Although after reading about the high desert area, Ben had decided that if he wanted to live in that part of Mexico he would opt for the more hospitable-sounding region Stephen Austin was settling farther east.

Besides, there was no reason to settle to the south. One of the men who’d traveled the upper Missouri with fur traders had led a group of Americans overland to California - as far west as Ben could go without falling into the sea was where he wanted to settle. Where the weather was never cold and where he could still feel the ocean spray as he had in the Sandwich Islands. Adam and he could fish in the salt water or hunt in the hills. If snow was what they wanted, they could journey to the mountains but they would build their home in the warm valley. What could be better than that?

The only thing Ben hadn’t decided was what livelihood to pursue. He could have a business of some sort; he knew that skill well. But what if there were not enough people around to support a shop? He’d been thinking about owning land the way John did. In that case should they raise cattle or sheep? If Adam had his way, and given how stubborn he could be at times there was every chance that Adam would have his way on occasion, they would raise horses. Ben knew one thing for sure - it hadn’t taken many visits to John’s farm to convince Ben that he did not want to raise pigs or chickens. He needed to learn if there was any market for cattle or horses in California. Saints, he hoped there wasn’t a greater demand for pigs or chickens.

Many an evening he sat at the table, reading, studying, thinking, and drawing out his ideas for a better travel wagon while he told Adam about his plans. Why it was that when Ben was sketching Adam persisted in being annoying was beyond Ben’s understanding. There was so much interruption with keeping the boy out of the ink and paper that Ben finally abandoned the effort until Adam was asleep. Sound asleep.

The problem was that the more Ben thought about traveling, the slower the winter seemed to pass. He was sick to his soul of the variable weather. The sun would shine, the air would warm, and then another armada of clouds would attack with their light drizzle. One day near mid-morning he heard the rain turn to sleet as it pelted at the shop windows. By the time he locked the door at dusk, the inside glass was coated with ice. Ben and Adam had only a few steps to reach their home. But what would John do this evening? Ben held Adam close and gingerly made his slippery way to his brother’s store.

"You don’t plan to go to the farm tonight," Ben said as John leaned back on the counter in the mercantile.

John shrugged. "The boarding houses are full with all the travelers who are delayed by the weather. I’ll stay here."

"Bring some bedding and come with Adam and me." Ben put his hands on his hips and, in hopes of heading off an argument, said, "This is not a time to be stubborn, John."

The man smiled slowly. "And by insisting that I stay the night at your home, you are not being stubborn?"

"I’m being sensible." Ben walked to a far shelf and took two blankets. "We’ll put some straw on the floor and these over it. And you can have a good meal."

"At your home?" John ignored Ben’s frown. "I would think there is food a plenty at Mrs. Hampton’s. We will dine there - " he held up a hand as Ben made to protest "- and then I will accept your invitation to share your home."

Ben lifted a hand as a sign that he would do as John suggested. If John wanted to eat at Mrs. Hampton’s instead - "Have it your way."

"I usually do, Ben." John stood straight and reached for his coat. "Put the blankets down, would you? We’ll return for them after we eat."

"Ead?" Adam ran to Ben and held up his arms.

"We’re going to Mrs. Hampton’s," Ben told the boy as he lifted him.

Adam clapped his hands.

"He does that a lot," Ben said to John, trying to save himself embarrassment at Adam’s opinion of his father’s cooking.

John’s smile faded and he attempted to be serious as he held the door open for his brother. "I am certain that his joy is in no way related to the fact that we are going to Mrs. Hampton’s."

"Ead!" Adam cheered. He clapped his hands all the faster.

John slapped Ben on the shoulder.

Despite the bad weather, or perhaps because of it, the boarding house table was almost full. Ben and Adam found places near the far end of one bench. John made space to sit across the table from them. The room was filled with the aromas of good food, the babble of voices, the clinking of forks against plates, marred only by the occasional gust of chilling air as the front door opened to more guests. Candlelight flickered off the highly polished walls but was only slightly reflected on the windows that were coated with dampness.

No matter how often they sat at Mrs. Hampton’s table, Adam was quiet, due in no small part to the fact that he was in the company of strangers and intent on the business of eating. He had learned some time past that if he ate well he would be allowed bread pudding. On occasion he looked up at Ben and then reached for his cup to wash down what he had stored in his cheeks.

"He’s a determined one, isn’t he?" John tore a piece of bread from the loaf at his elbow. "Eating the way he does."

Ben scooted a few vegetables from his side of the plate to Adam’s. "Impatient’s more the word. When he was younger he flew into temper because he couldn’t feed himself. Then he refused to eat for Mrs. Callahan." Ben accepted the cup from Adam and placed it where the boy couldn’t accidentally tip it.

John slid his eyes from Ben to Adam. "He doesn’t look to have starved."

"That’s because he knew not to argue with me."

"Small as he is!" John pointed to the boy.

"He was smaller then. But he understood a frown and a deep voice." Ben tapped Adam on the nose and was rewarded with a quick, shy smile. "Now that he’s grown, though, he feeds himself." Ben shrugged. "We’ll do better when he learns the workings of spoon to mouth. It’ll come in due time." He held up a fork. "We learned."

"It was that or spend the rest of our days in the nursery with Greta. She was reason enough to learn all skills as quickly as possible." John returned his interest to his meal.

Ben had liked their nurse, Greta. She had been firm with them at times but, truth told, John and he would have ruled the day nursery had she not ascertained who was in charge. Greta had taught Ben to count to ten so he could surprise his mother. The nurse had always been quick to praise either boy’s achievements and slow to mention any trespasses to their father. When she had left during Ben’s ninth year, he had mourned her for months. He had missed her even more sharply after his mother’s death.

"But then," John continued, "you were fond of Greta, weren’t you?"

Ben guided Adam’s hand toward the small pieces of ham he had cut for the boy.

"You were always fond of perverse people." John raised his teacup. "The more difficult the instructor, the more you liked him."

There was no need to go discussing Ben’s boyhood right now. "How is Randolph holding against Windthorst’s efforts to run him off?"

John looked around the table to ascertain if anyone had overheard. He leaned on his elbows. "You know Randolph’s still printing."

"I do, yes. But I can’t for the world determine how. He has no advertisers and people are concerned to be seen reading his paper."

"Not you, I’m sure." John put down his fork and clasped his hands above his plate. "There’s talk he’s gone into debt in order to continue. But for what? He can’t hold against Windthorst forever."

"Perhaps," Ben replied, "to prove that he shan’t surrender without a rousing good fight."

John spread his hands and leaned back. "To what end? He’s still defeated."

Ben narrowed his eyes. John didn’t understand, did he? "You can’t be defeated if you don’t allow it."

"What kind of nonsense is that?"

"You are only defeated when you decide you are, John. A man can lose a fight and still be the victor."

John shook his head in disbelief. "You and father. Always talking in riddles." He leaned his elbows on the table again. "When one man prevails over another, that man is the victor. It’s as simple as that."

Ben handed Adam the cup he was reaching for. "I disagree."

"Explain yourself, then. How can a man who has lost a fight not be defeated?" John challenged.

"Defeat," Ben said as he tapped his head, "is up here."

Adam noticed his father’s motion and imitated it, pointing to his own forehead. "Tink," he said proudly, not caring about the smashed peas that slid from his finger to his cheek.

John shook his head in aggravation. "And I disagree with you."

Ben smirked. "There’s no news in that, John."

The man looked from the tops of his eyes, turned his fork around and around on his plate, and then smiled. "That we agree on."

Adam trudged beside the men as they headed home after supper, minding his step as Ben repeatedly warned him. In the livery, he lifted such an armful of straw for John’s bed that he leaned backwards to keep his balance. Once inside the house, he tossed his burden to the floor and slapped his hands together to dust them before crawling around to spread the straw near the dining table. That done, Adam stood in front of his father, his small hands beside Ben’s work-toughened ones, as they floated the blankets over the temporary bed’s filling.

He nodded his head in approval, patted the bed, and looked up at Ben’s brother. "Un-gle Zhon."

Ben stepped back, looking at his son sideways and wondering when the boy had worked out those words. John smiled in surprise and offered a soft, "Thank you."

Adam solemnly replied, "Tor elko." He took a step toward the living area then broke into a free-spirited run and dived onto the mattress in front of the fireplace.

While Ben read aloud and John sat by quietly, the boy wrestled with the covers until he was comfortable. He rolled onto his stomach, patting the bedding as he listened to Ben’s voice. When the night’s reading was done, he requested a song and, as had become his habit, kicked his right foot.

"Pa."

Ben closed his eyes. This talking to avoid going to sleep was becoming a part of the evening ritual, too. "Yes."

"Ting."

"I already sang. Sleep."

"Pa."

"Sleep, Adam." Ben opened his eyes to see if Adam was obeying.

The boy raised his head and then thumped it against the bed linens. "Do."

Ben grinned across the room at John on the settee as he spoke to Adam. "You can’t sleep with your eyes open."

Adam knew what was expected. He closed his eyes. He kicked his foot. He raised his head, turned it, and lay back down. He kicked his foot.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Ben suggested, rubbing at his forehead, fighting a smile.

"Do."

"Well?" the father invited.

"Boa-t peas."

Ben stood. "Where is it?"

Adam pushed to his elbows and pointed to a chair in the eating area. Ben nodded and pointed to the bed.

"Your head had best be down when I walk back here."

"Do."

Ben picked up the wooden boat and turned it in his hand. He hadn’t noticed the nicks in the hull. He needed to sand it smooth again. He sat on his heels beside the mattress and touched Adam’s fingertips with the boat’s bow.

Adam extended his hand and wrapped it around the toy. "Ta tu."

The chuckle Ben had been fighting broke free. "You’re welcome." He patted the blanket where he approximated Adam’s bottom to be. "Pa and Uncle John will be talking for a while."

Adam hugged the toy boat close. "Do," he whispered.

"Checkers?" John held up a gameboard he had brought from the store. He stood when Ben nodded.

"I’ll beat you tonight," Ben vowed as they sat at the table. John and he had shared several games when they had visited on Sundays. Ben had yet to win. In his youth he had never beaten his mother, his father, or his friends at the detestable game.

"A wise man told me," John teased, "that you’re only defeated if you decide you are."

Ben paused in setting a dark checker in place and rolled his eyes. "Who has first move?"

"It is always the same, Ben. Whoever has the dark checkers."

Ben rotated the board until the dark pieces were in front of John. He leaned back and crossed his arms at his chest. "I insist that you take first move."

"I thought you might appreciate the advantage." John’s smile spread. His brown eyes reflected the lantern light.

"There’s no benefit to making the first move," Ben argued.

John held up his index finger. "The person who takes first move sets everything into action." He laughed at Ben’s frown. "You disagree?"

Ben extended a hand toward the board. "Of course I disagree."

John shrugged and moved a checker.

"There’s no advantage." Ben made his move.

When John gloated after beginning and winning the third game, Ben wondered if he ought to concede that his brother was correct about the person who took the first move having the advantage. So, he made the first move in the next game, and lost again.

"It’s luck!" Ben declared. He poured hot water from the kettle into the teapot on the table.

"It is skill born of patience." John placed his checkers. "And as long as you are impatient, you will not win."

"I’m patient," Ben asserted.

John engaged in a guffaw then shot a quick look Adam’s way to see if he had disturbed the boy. "You’ve not been patient a day of your life."

"I am when I see the need." Ben handed his brother a pottery mug.

"You never saw the need overmuch before now."

Ben sat and tilted his head. "What do you mean ‘before now’?"

John motioned to the board. "Don’t get your back up. Allow that I might know something you do not. Make a move."

Ben grabbed a checker and slapped it onto a square.

"How a man can excel at cards and be so wanting at checkers, I will never comprehend." John picked up the game piece and returned it to the front row. "Think this through, Ben. What do you hope to accomplish by moving that man to that square?"

What did John mean? He meant to start the game, to wait for John’s move and -

"Here’s the question," the older brother posed. "Do you want to constantly - " He squinted. "At sea, did you wait for the storm to strike or did you make ready as soon as you sighted it?"

"What does - "

"When you noted an error in determining course, did you make effort to correct it at once or wait to see where it would take you?"

Ben looked down at the board. "What has that to do with this?"

"Everything," John said softly.

He proceeded to point out possible moves that Ben could make when it was his turn. Each time he asked, "And what would that cause me to do? And what do you foresee my move being?" The game lasted longer than Ben would have thought possible. When it inevitably ended, Ben put his hands on the table.

"It’s more complicated that I thought," he admitted. He raised wondering eyes to John.

"As in all of life, what looks simple to the impatient eye rarely is." John stacked the dark checkers. He stood and leaned as far back as he could, a joint or two popping as he did so.

"It’s too late in the evening for philosophy." Ben placed the kettle, the teapot, and the mugs on the shelf so Adam couldn’t reach them come morning.

John propped himself against the wall and tugged off a boot. He smiled knowingly when Ben frowned at the empty checkerboard. "Don’t forget to rest," he warned.

Ben waited until John had pulled up his covers. Then, with painstaking quiet, he set the checkers in place. He woke the next morning bent forward in his chair with his head resting on his folded arms on the tabletop, checkers scattered about the board, and a deep wish that he had not stayed awake so late into the night.

The game of checkers wasn’t the only skill Ben set about learning. When winter closed in and he had less desire to be out of doors, he opened the wooden trunk and took out his father’s fiddle. Mother had insisted on calling it a violin; Father had maintained it was a fiddle.

During Ben’s sailing days, there’d been musical instruments in most taverns so the patrons could easily amuse themselves with song and dance whenever performers weren’t on hand. He’d been a good hand at a fiddle back then. So Ben attempted to recall a few of the tunes his father and other musicians had taught him to play but his efforts caused Adam to slap his hands over his little ears and yell, "Noid!"

One afternoon, Ben caught sight of Sophie walking by the livery. He left Adam with Thaddeus and caught up with the woman as she stepped to the sidewalk in front of John’s shop.

"Benjamin, what a pleasant surprise!" With one gloved hand, she held her coat collar closed at her throat. With the other hand, she motioned toward the next shop, above which she taught her music students.

"I wondered - " Ben followed the slender woman up the narrow stairs along an outside wall. "I wondered if you teach the fiddle."

She stopped on the stairway and twisted to face him. "Fiddle?"

Ben shrugged. "Violin."

Sophie turned around quickly. "I do not but I know someone who might. Have you a fiddle?"

"Yes."

"And have you ever played it?" She waited while he opened the door into the large room that served as her classroom.

"When I was younger." Ben’s breath fogged in front of him. "May I?" he asked, motioning to the room. The moment Sophie nodded her permission, Ben walked to the woodstove and set to making a fire.

"And what do you recall?" Sophie leaned to assist him after removing her bonnet.

Ben was momentarily distracted by the scent of lilacs. "Not enough, it would seem."

"According to?"

"Adam."

Sophie’s cheeks, flushed by the cold air, dimpled. "I see."

They refrained from conversation until the business of starting the fire was accomplished. Then they stood flanking the stove, hands in their coat pockets.

"This person who might teach fiddle. Do you think they might be inclined to teach in the evening?"

She gave a curt nod. "I would suppose he could be persuaded."

"He?" Ben stamped his boots as chill set into his toes. "Do I know him?"

"I would think so. It is Thaddeus."

Ben could have sworn he’d heard a shipping crate fall but perhaps it was just his jaw dropping open.

Sophie laughed lightly, her fogged breath hiding her face behind a gossamer curtain. "You did not know?"

"He’s never played it at the shop."

"He’s more inclined to play the fiddle at the tavern - when he isn’t playing billiards." She tilted her head. "You truly do not frequent the taverns," she realized.

"Not since I married, no."

"Perhaps after Thaddeus and I are married, I might tend Adam one night so you could enjoy a bit of tavern life with Thaddeus."

"If he prefers a tavern to your company then - "

"Yes?" Sophie’s voice was melodious.

Ben turned his eyes to the stove. "I think he’ll stay home more of an evening when you’ve married." He felt warmth on his face and knew the fledgling fire below him did not cause it.

"Shall I ask him?"

"A-about staying home?" Ben stammered.

Sophie licked her lower lip. "About teaching you to play the fiddle."

"Oh," he replied. No, he could speak to Thaddeus about that, thank you.

The click of shoe heels coming up the stairs was followed almost immediately by an exclaimed, "Benjamin!" and the door slamming closed.

It was Virginia. A man caught unaware might take her for the truest of ladies, but her quick race to Ben and the way she flung her arms around him in a hug would have banished that impression. Her green eyes were strikingly accented by her dark green coat and matching satin bonnet, the latter of which sat atop mountains of curls.

Virginia rested her hand on Ben’s arm and said to Sophie, "I know him from the riverboat."

Sophie’s mouth eased from its pucker of amusement. "I should hope you would be at least acquainted with a gentleman you greeted in such a manner."

The girl peered up at Ben worriedly. "Are you here for singing lessons?"

No amount of lessons would improve his ability in that regard. "No."

Virginia placed her other hand on his arm. "I regret that I do not see you more. I’ve no reason to frequent the livery." She glanced down, "Except to retrieve certain belongings."

Interesting. Thaddeus hadn’t told Ben that Virginia had reclaimed her baggage. But then Thaddeus hadn’t ever mentioned playing the fiddle, either.

The girl cleared her throat and raised her chin. "My aunt is ever so mindful that I be seen only where a lady of reputation would be expected." Virginia’s face filled with mischief. "I told her there were some very colorful ladies of reputation at Mrs. Treyhee’s but she was not in the least amused."

Sophie put her hand over her mouth. Ben could not hide his reaction. He laughed.

"If you’re not here to sing," Virginia said when he had quieted, "then I suggest you bid us adieu. Unless you wish to stay and be subjected to my screeches. They’ve been known to set the wolves into frightful howls."

Ben arched a brow at Sophie and decided to leave the ladies to their lessons.

Sophie and Thaddeus were married on a Tuesday in a simple ceremony attended by a handful of people and the minister, of course, at Thaddeus’ house. At the conclusion of the ritual, all decorum fell by the wayside. By the time those who had attended the wedding joined those who had been waiting at the reception at Sophie’s music school, evidence abounded that there was one punch that held spirits. The talking and laughter was so loud that even the music and dancing could not rise above it. Anyone who was not talking, laughing, playing music, or dancing could be found near a feast that stretched across three tables. Ben had never known there to be food at a reception before. He wondered if his eyes were as large as Adam’s as they stood just inside the doorway and looked over the activities.

The event was as close to a barn raising gathering or a fall festival dance as was possible without the barn or the harvest. Ben could glimpse old and young in the crowd. To his disbelief, one babe slept soundly on a blanket on the floor as if such carryings-on were a lullaby.

There was no coaxing Adam to stand on his own two feet. The boy had a strong grip on Ben’s shirt that a blacksmith would have envied. All that Adam would allow was for Ben to shift him from one side to the other. At least he didn’t interrupt conversations. He was the only one. After Adam would not allow even Thaddeus to hold him, notice was given. Ben Cartwright was an observer only.

Nevertheless, Ben was far from bored for there was plenty to watch. John and Regina carried on an amiable discussion that caused Ben to wonder if the woman had forgotten what a fallen sinner John was. Perhaps she was attempting to lead him to the Truth since Patience had stayed at the farm. Randolph, the newspaper owner, and his wife strolled arm in arm through the crowd. He would undoubtedly have the first report of the wedding though Ben questioned how many people still read Randolph’s paper. There was Thomas Exeter. The livestock agent could often be seen driving around town in his carriage with any one of an assortment of pretty women on the seat beside him. Tonight he escorted a particularly attractive dark-haired lady in a bright blue dress. Abraham had attended, too, accompanied by his wife. It was the first time Ben had laid eyes on the woman. Abraham had always seemed a forward-thinking gentleman to Ben. There was something about the man’s wife that indicated she did not share that outlook or Abraham’s enjoyment of the festivities.

Not noticing Virginia in such a throng would have been understandable except that her laughter was loud and distinct. Which was more than likely the reason that one of the partygoers asked her to sing a tune to the accompaniment of the band. A look of dismay passed between Sophie and Virginia. What could be wrong?

Ben soon found out. Virginia could not sing. Not a note. Well, no, she could sing notes. They just were not true, or in beat, or recognizable to anyone acquainted with composition. It was then and there that Ben had no doubt Virginia could be an accomplished actress because she put on a good face and pretended she did not detect the distress she caused. When at last she finished her performance, the applause was thunderous and would have drowned out any request for an encore. Not that there was one.

Hopefully, Sophie meant to close the music school after her marriage. Ben doubted that Virginia’s lack of talent boded well for Sophie’s business future.

Finally, after eating, Adam fell asleep in Ben’s arms. The man cautiously lowered his son to a nearby blanket. He waited for Adam to stir. But the little back rose and fell with even breaths. Ben expected Adam’s eyes to fly open at any moment. But no eyes opened. No foot kicked. Saints, what a miracle.

Ben turned his attention to the room and had a grand time.

Click here for Part 4