Ben Cartwright sat in the chair he’d come to realize was Joe’s favorite and opened the morning newspaper dated, Tuesday, November 12th, 1872. He paid scant attention to the headlines; letting the newspaper rest in his lap as he reflected back upon the time he and Hoss had now spent in Boston. 

Ten days had passed since Edward Brockington’s driver, Elliot, picked them up at the train station in a gleaming white carriage with Adam on board. Thus far, those ten days had been spent in a variety of ways. Eating dinner at some of Adam’s favorite restaurants, getting to know Laddie – who Ben thought was a wonderful young woman – getting to know her family, making two visits to the institute, and walking all around the city with Hoss on a day when Adam and Joe were at work. Ben showed Hoss places familiar to him from when he’d lived here forty-five years ago. Ben did the same thing with Adam when he’d visited shortly after Adam lost his arm, and had another such father and son outing planned with Joe for Saturday afternoon. Even though Joe wouldn’t be able see the places on their agenda, Ben knew Joe would enjoy hearing the stories that went along with those old haunts of his father’s, and appreciate their time alone together. 

Another event that had taken place during their first ten days in Boston – Joe’s surprise party – was a great success. One of the warmest memories Ben would always carry of that party, other than the moment when he saw his youngest son walk in the front door, was watching the blind children playing alongside the sighted ones. It gave Ben hope that Joe’s future held the ability for him to live comfortably in both the blind and sighted worlds.

Ben would forever be grateful to Adam for organizing the party. It was Adam who wrote his father in late September, suggesting the date of Ben and Hoss’s arrival, and then detailing the proposed party, and that it would be kept a secret from Joe. After that, telegrams flew back and forth between Boston and Virginia City, finalizing the arrangements. While all of this planning was going on without Joe’s knowledge, Ben continued to write his youngest son letters that never failed to mention he wasn’t quite sure when he and Hoss would be traveling to Boston, other than to say sometime by mid-November.

Rather than mid-November, however, Ben and Hoss had arrived in early November, completely fooling Joe in the process. They’d had to work a few longer days on the ranch in order to get ready for their departure, but the effort was well worth it. After the cattle drive, the seasonal help was let go for the winter, though many of them would return come spring – the same men who came back year after year seeking employment on the Ponderosa. Some of them were now the sons of men Ben had at one time employed. He supposed if he lived long enough, he’d even begin to see some grandsons of his first generation employees on his payroll.

Candy had been left in charge of things, which caused Ben no worries at all. The reliable foreman had a capable, veteran crew of twenty men; the number they normally kept on year round.

Hop Sing had left on a stage for San Francisco on the same day Ben and Hoss caught the train in Reno. He planned to visit his bounty of cousins for three weeks, then return to the ranch. Ben took advantage of the house being empty of her men to hire Harriet Guthrie and her daughter to give the home a thorough cleaning and airing out. Or as Hoss referred to it, “Spring cleanin’ in the winter.” By the time he and Hoss returned, every window would be sparkling, every rug free of dirt, and every nook and cranny free of dust. 

Ben’s thoughts skipped from spring cleaning, to the two times he and Hoss visited the school where Adam and Joe worked. Adam hadn’t been employed there yet the last time Ben was in Boston. Ben’s oldest son was at loose ends then, unsure of what life held for him. He knew he didn’t want to continue running his grandfather’s business – Stoddard Shipping – and had sold it while Ben was there. The money Adam got from that sale, along with everything else he’d inherited from his grandfather, had left him set for life. He could have chosen not to work again, but Ben was glad that Adam didn’t ultimately make that choice. He’d thought all along it would be a mistake for Adam to sit in this house and wallow in regret, guilt, and self-pity. He’d prayed that Adam would find a purpose again, much like, more recently, he’d prayed the same for Joe. How ironic that the job Adam took not long after Ben left for home, would turn out to be a way that he could eventually offer his youngest brother employment. 

Adam’s roommate in college, Lindell Taylor, had been the headmaster at the institute for ten years, when he was offered a more lucrative position running a boys’ preparatory school in New York. He knew of Adam’s situation – was probably one of the few friends of Adam’s who did – and came calling on Adam one afternoon. Lindell told Adam about the vacancy at the institute, and said he wanted Adam’s permission to recommend him to the school board. 

Ben could only imagine how Adam must have protested that. His college studies hadn’t been in the field of education, and aside from that, he didn’t know the first thing about the financial aspects of running a school. But as Lindell likely pointed out, Adam had taken some business courses while in college, and had years of experience under his belt when it came to running many aspects of a business, from the Ponderosa’s holdings, to Abel Stoddard’s shipping company. What made Adam finally decide to interview with the institute’s school board, Ben never knew. He’d never bothered asking either, because he was just happy that his oldest son was ready to get out and live life again. That Adam was having great success as the institute’s administrator and headmaster came as no surprise to Ben. Adam was the kind of man who would be successful at almost anything he tried.

On the first day Hoss and Ben had visited the institute, Adam gave them a tour of the building and the grounds. Though the building was old, Ben found it to be clean and well maintained. Later, without Joe’s knowledge, they stood in the doorway of his classroom, watching him teach. Ben was so proud of him that it was a wonder he hadn’t popped the buttons on his shirt. That’s how far his chest stuck out that morning. Adam had said Joe possessed a gift for teaching, and he wasn’t lying. There was a lot of laughter and fun going on in that room, but there was a lot of learning going on too, along with liberal doses of encouragement for each boy from Joe. It gave Ben insight to what kind of father Joe would be, and made his heart ache as he wondered if a woman would be willing to look past Joe’s blindness and take the time to learn that, even without his sight, he’d be a good husband, father, and provider.

Upon their second visit to the school, Ben and Hoss sat in on one of Adam’s literature classes, and then spent the rest of the day in Joe’s class. As was true to their personalities, Adam’s class was conducted far differently from Joe’s. It was quieter for one thing, more orderly, and Adam’s suit coat wasn’t tossed haphazardly over his chair, nor was his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie missing, and his top collar button undone. He was an excellent teacher to his students, just like Joe was to his, but again, as true to their personalities, their methods weren’t anything alike. Ben was grateful to Adam for allowing Joe to conduct his class in his own way. He knew it must have been hard for his oldest to stand back and keep his opinions to himself, as he watched Joe struggle those first few weeks. Ben and Hoss hadn’t been aware of those struggles until after they arrived. Joe entertained them for a good hour one evening after supper, telling about his first two disastrous weeks as a teacher. Joe could laugh about it now, but he probably hadn’t found it so funny when he was wondering if he’d made a mistake in coming to Boston and accepting the job. 

In Adam’s class, Hoss and Ben were quiet observers in the back of the room. In Joe’s, they got away with no less than active participation all day, helping the boys do whatever Joe directed. Ben was surprised at how much fun he had, and how much the experience poignantly reminded him of what it was like to have little boys in your life. Of course, once he got a reminder of what it was like to have teenagers in your life, in the form of the irrepressible Henry, John, Tony, and Pete, the feeling of nostalgia didn’t burn quite so strong. 

Lost in thought as he was, Ben didn’t hear Mrs. O’Connell approaching until she was at his elbow.

“Would yeh like another spot of coffee, Mr. Cartwright Senior?”

Ben glanced up at the woman and smiled. “No, thank you.”

From the end table at Ben’s elbow, Mrs. O’Connell picked up his empty cup and the saucer it sat on. 

“I’ll just be gettin’ this outta yer way then.” The woman’s eyes traveled the room. “Where’s Eric this morning? I thought he might be ready for a morsel or two of a snack.”

Ben chuckled at the way Adam’s housekeeper had quickly grown accustomed to Hoss’s appetite. His merriment also came from her insistence on using Hoss’s given name. Upon first meeting Ben’s middle son, she said it wouldn’t be proper to call him Hoss, but before Hoss had the chance to tell her, “Really, Ma’am, Hoss’ll be just fine,” as Ben knew he was about to do, Joe jumped in. 

“I think you should call him Eric, Mrs. O’Connell. That’s his given name. Don’t you think it sounds like a nice, manly sort of name?”

“Why yes, Joseph, I do. Quite manly, and quite proper, too.”

“Uh. . .Ma’am, now ya’ don’t have to go callin’ me that, despite what my little brother here says.” It was then that Joe got a strong jab between his shoulder blades. “Hoss’ll do just fine.”

“No no no. T’ain’t proper for a housekeeper to use nicknames and such. Which is why I don’t call yer dear younger brother anything but Joseph.”

Hoss grinned. “Joseph, ya’ say?” 

“Yes.”

A big hand came to rest on Joe’s shoulder, probably squeezing just a little too hard on purpose “Well, I reckon if Little Joe here is goin’ by his proper name, then you can go right on ahead and call me Eric.”

“Oh, Joseph, yeh never told me about that nickname. It’s quite cute, it is. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if I call yeh Little Joseph.”

For reasons not fully understood by Ben, this provoked gales of laughter from Adam. Joe shot Hoss a dirty look, then turned to Mrs. O’Connell and said meekly, “Uh. . .no, Mrs. O’Connell, please don’t do that. Just plain Joseph is fine. Really it is.”

“Well, okay, if yeh say so, Joseph. But Little Joseph is pleasin’ to the ear, if yeh be askin’ me.”

“Maybe to your ears,” Joe mumbled under his breath, “but not to mine.”

Despite Adam’s laughter over the entire matter, Hoss’s smugness at getting one up on his younger brother for a change, and Joe’s mock anger regarding, “Hoss and his gosh darn big mouth,” by the end of that first evening at Adam’s, Mrs. O’Connell had the names worked out to her satisfaction. Joseph would remain known as such, Hoss was now Eric, Adam remained Mr. Cartwright, and Ben was once again christened, Mr. Cartwright Senior, to distinguish from Adam. Which was exactly how Mrs. O’Connell had referred to him the last time he’d visited.

Mr. Cartwright Senior answered the housekeeper’s question regarding Hoss’s whereabouts by saying, “He went out for a walk. Said he’d be back after while.”

“Ah, enjoyin’ a little peace and quiet then, is that it, Sir? Two boys away at work, ‘an one takin’ his morning constitutional.” 

Ben chuckled politely, not telling the woman that with both Adam and Joe gone from the Ponderosa now, he’d had more peace and quiet on many days than he could stand. 

“Yes, I guess that’s it.” 

“I surely hope Eric will be back in time for lunch. I made that Irish stew of mine he likes so much.”

“Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about Hoss missing lunch, Mrs. O’Connell.”

“I’d shudder at such a thought, I would. A big, strapping boy like Eric needs to eat, he does.”

“Allow me to assure you, that big, strapping boy of mine has been eating me out of house and home since the day he came into this world.”

The woman smiled and patted Ben’s shoulder. “Yeh have three fine lads yeh can be real proud of, Sir. Good men, ever’ single one of ‘em.”

“Thank you. I think so too, but then, I’m their father, so I might be a bit prejudiced.”

“There’s nary a thing wrong with a father takin’ pride in his sons. Nary a thing wrong with it at all.”

The woman then told Ben lunch would be ready at noon, and walked away carrying his dishes.

Ben attempted to return to his newspaper, but found his concentration greatly lacking. With a heavy sigh, he folded the paper and put it on the end table. He sat lost in thought again, though this time he wasn’t smiling over treasured memories, but instead, frowning with worry while thinking of the news Joe had disclosed the previous evening after supper. 

Suddenly feeling ten years older, Ben pushed himself up from the chair and headed for Adam’s office. There was something sitting in the center of the desk he wanted to review. It hadn’t seemed to hold any answers last night, but perhaps, in the light of a new day, answers of some sort would be revealed that didn’t involve Joe’s death as the likely outcome.

Chapter 48

Joe sat behind his desk that Tuesday morning enjoying a few minutes without someone needing his help or attention, as the older boys took an arithmetic test, and the younger ones wrote a short story in Braille about the best day they’d ever had.

There were just five weeks left until the month-long Christmas recess. Most of Joe’s boys would be going home for the holiday, though a couple, like John, would remain in Boston, because their parents could only afford travel expenses for the three-month summer break. In some cases, these children had relatives nearby, and would be staying with them. In John’s case, he’d remain at the institute, along with other students who were staying behind. Adam had told Joe that the staff made things as festive as possible for the children, with an evening of Christmas caroling throughout the neighborhood, a visit from Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, a church service on Christmas morning, a big holiday meal afterwards, along with presents to open, games to play, and a sledding expedition. 

“Maybe we can stop by on Christmas Day,” Joe had suggested, “before we have to be at the Brockingtons’.”

“We will,” Adam assured. “I always drop by for at least a little while to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.” 

It was hard for Joe to believe that when Christmas arrived, the school year would be getting close to halfway over. It seemed like he’d just started his teaching career, and yet, with not quite three months into it, he felt like he’d been doing the job for years. As though, if ranching weren’t in his blood, this would have been his calling. But ranching was in his blood, had been since the day he was born, and he couldn’t deny that. Despite the rewards teaching brought Joe, he still missed his old life, and would rather spend most of his time outdoors on the Ponderosa, rather than cooped up in a building from 8 to 3:30, five days a week.

One aspect of teaching Joe had no challenges with any longer was the behavior of his students. Caleb continued to make great strides with his studies, and would likely meet his goal of being caught up to his classmates come Christmas break. The older boys hadn’t given Joe problems in so long that it was difficult to think these were the same kids he’d been on the verge of thrashing to within an inch of their lives the first two weeks of school. Sure, they possessed the normal impulsiveness and zest for life most teenage boys do, but they seemed to respect Joe more and more each day. At first this puzzled Joe, but then he realized word had gotten around that he was blind, just like them. Caleb had likely told Jacob, who was now his best friend, and Jake had probably told Billy, and Billy. . .well, Billy was like the town crier, and not just when it came to his tears. He was always eager to share what he knew with everyone else. Especially if he thought it was a secret.

Once Joe knew the boys were aware that he couldn’t see, he brought the subject up in class. He shared with them what had happened to him, and invited them to share the stories behind their blindness. It seemed to help everyone to realize that their situations were similar – some blind since birth, some blind at an age so young they had only vague memories of being able to see, and then others, like Joe and Caleb, who had lost their sight more recently to accidents. The afternoon of sharing something so personal seemed to be the last step needed to bring them together as a group of boys who cared about one another, and thought of themselves as a family. That didn’t mean there still wasn’t the occasional family argument, but then, Joe and Adam still had arguments now and again, so Joe figured both the good and the bad really was what being a family. . .or even a class, was all about.

Thinking about the good and the bad where being a family was concerned, caused Joe’s thoughts to drift to last evening. His father and Hoss were due to leave Boston in a week and a half. That, combined with the headache Pa had seen Joe suffer on Sunday morning, meant Joe couldn’t put off telling them about his visit to Dr. Warren. Or so Adam said as they’d walked to school the previous morning.

“You’ve got to tell Pa and Hoss tonight, Joe. It’s not fair to wait and spring this on them just a few days before they’re getting ready to go home. Besides, Pa’s been asking me too many questions ever since you had to leave church yesterday in the middle of the service.”

“What questions?”

“Like if you’ve had any other headaches since you got here, and if I’ve taken you to see a doctor, and if you’ve said anything about not feeling well–”

“What’d you tell him?”

“Nothing, other than you had some things to discuss with him.”

“And what did he say?”

“That you’d better start discussing soon, or he was going to take you to a doctor himself.”

So, given that he could no longer “put off until tomorrow what must be done today,” Joe prevented anyone from leaving the dining room table on Monday evening by telling Pa and Hoss there was something he needed to talk to them about. He waited until Mrs. O’Connell had cleared the table and was in the kitchen doing the dishes, then broke the news about the headaches, the brief moments when his black world sometimes turned a misty gray, and what he’d been told by Dr. Warren.

Joe could have predicted what happened the moment he finished speaking. His father turned to Adam and demanded, “Why wasn’t I told about any of this?”

Adam was no fool. He wasn’t about to take the blame. “Because Joe thinks you have one foot in the grave.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

Joe winced at his father’s tone, and was actually glad, for once, that he couldn’t see Pa’s face.

“I asked Adam not to tell you, Pa.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Joseph, in the future, I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to decide what I should and shouldn’t worry about.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And for your information, young man, your father does not have one foot in the grave.”

“Uh. . .no. No, Sir. Besides, that’s not actually what I said. Adam. . .he kinda made that part up.”

“Oh he did, did he?”

“Well. . .maybe not completely, but those weren’t my exact words.”

“At this moment, your exact words aren’t of great concern to me. These headaches, and this surgery you spoke of, are.”

There wasn’t much Joe could say to that. Of course those would be Pa’s concerns.

“Whatcha’ gonna do, Joe?” Hoss asked, the worry in his tone easy for Joe to detect.

Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve thought a lot about it. Seems like I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.”

Silence lingered around the table. A silence that told Joe his father and brothers were exchanging looks, trying to figure out if any one of them had advice for him. When the silence did nothing but continue, Joe stood.

“I haven’t made a decision yet and have gotten along okay, so I don’t suppose another couple of days’ll matter. I’m kinda tired. Think I’ll go to bed.”

Although Joe wasn’t nearly as tired as he claimed to be, he did what he knew his family needed him to – left the room so they could discuss the situation without him present. That thought would have rankled him when he was younger – probably would have caused a magnificent display of his notoriously short temper – but with age comes insight. And because of that insight, Joe understood why his father and brothers had to talk things over without him there to hear. Besides, if they could come up with an answer for him, all the better, because God knew Joe had no idea what choice to make.

Nothing was said this morning at the breakfast table about the surgery, but then, there hadn’t been time for a family discussion. Adam was in a hurry to leave. A carriage from the school pulled up outside the house before Adam managed to finish his eggs. He had a business meeting scheduled with a group of the school’s financial supporters at Edward Brockington’s office.

Adam said to Joe on his way to the front door, “I should be back at school around lunch time.” 

“All right. And hey. . .don’t worry! I’ll run a tight ship while you’re gone.”

Adam’s voice came from the vicinity of the front closet. “Why do I find “Joe Cartwright” combined with the phrase, “tight ship” to be an oxymoron?” 

“An oxy what?” Hoss asked.

“Oxymoron,” Pa said. “It means two contradictory terms.” 

“Makes sense then,” Hoss agreed. “I’d say you runnin’ a tight ship is an oxymoron, little brother.”

Before the discussion could continue, Adam called goodbye to his family and dashed out the door.

It wasn’t long before Joe had to leave, as well. Pa wasn’t any keener about Shakespeare being Joe’s guide than Adam initially had been. But like Adam, after Pa watched the dog at work, and upon Adam vouching for this rather odd practice of Joe’s, Pa came to accept it without too many worries. Or at least not worries he voiced. Joe knew his father trailed him at a distance this morning during his walk to school because he hadn’t traveled very far, when he heard the front door open and close, and then boots hurrying down the sidewalk, as though the person didn’t want to let Joe get out of his sight. The footfalls behind him weren’t heavy enough to be Hoss’s, and although it was tempting to turn around and call, “Hi, Pa!” Joe didn’t do it. If following him to school gave Pa peace of mind, then so be it. 

Joe’s musing was interrupted by a young voice beside his desk.

“I’m done with my story, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Well, good for you, Caleb.”

“Want me to read it to ya’?”

“I sure do, but quietly. The older boys are still taking their test.”

The boy dropped his voice to a pitch just above a whisper. “Okay.” 

Joe could picture Caleb’s hands moving across his Braille slate as he read softly,
“The best day I ever had was at Mr. Cartwright’s birthday party. It was a surprise. We ate lots of good food, and played games, and–”

“Mr. Cartwright! Mr. Cartwright!”

Joe “looked” in the direction of the frantic voice. “Billy, I’m with Caleb right now. Wait your turn, please.”

“But, Mr. Cart–”

“Billy, what have I told you before about interrupting?”

“But, Mr. Cartwright, I smell smoke!”

Joe sniffed, not detecting anything that caused him alarm.

“It’s probably just our lunch cooking down in the kitchen, son.”

“No, Sir! It’s not lunch. I really do smell smoke!”

Several of the boys took deep, noisy whiffs of air. Joe expected to hear them gang up on Billy, telling him he was being the class crybaby again. But instead of that, Tony’s voice rang out.

“He’s not jokin’, Mr. Cartwright! Come ‘ere! Over here by the windows! I can smell it, too.”

Joe stood and walked around Caleb, heading for the bank of windows on the west side of his classroom’s wall. “It’s probably just smoke from one of the factories over on Bridge Street, Tony.” Joe felt for the window latch, flipped it upwards, then lifted the window. “There’s no need to wor–”

Thick dense smoke blew into the room from somewhere directly below Joe. He thought he could hear the roar of fire, but he wasn’t certain. He slammed the window shut, coughing and gasping for a breath of fresh air.

Joe quickly moved away from the windows, grabbed Shakespeare’s leash off of his desk, and called for the dog. He secured the leash to the dog’s collar, grabbed Caleb by the hand, and said to his class in a calm tone that nonetheless broadcast his urgency, “Come on, boys, we have to get outta here.”

Chapter 49

Ben approached Adam’s desk, walking around it until he was standing in front of Adam’s chair. He looked down at a piece of paper, seeing the column entitled, Reasons For Surgery, and then the column opposite it entitled, Reasons Against Surgery. Ben, Adam, and Hoss, had composed the list last night after Joe went bed. By looking at the list, you’d think this was an easy decision to make. The column containing the reasons why Joe should have surgery was so short it only held two phrases – ‘Might give Joe his eyesight back,’ and ‘Might prevent an early death.’ The column containing the reasons why he shouldn’t have the surgery was long, and held everything from the phrase ‘Possible paralysis,’ to ‘Death from infection’ to ‘High risk of death taking place on the operating table.’ 

By length alone, the Reasons Against column should have put an end to further discussion. But there was no arguing that the only two items listed below Reasons For, made a man pause in long thought. What made things worse, was that regardless of what decision they reached – for Joe to have surgery, or for Joe not to have it – the risk of death seemed equally as high.

Right after Joe lost his sight, Ben had seen him suffer through a series of painful headaches that Paul Martin attributed to the concussion. Then the headaches eased, and soon thereafter disappeared all together, not returning, according to Joe, until he and Adam were on the train headed for Boston. The headaches came frequently now, Joe had confessed after supper on Monday. Some were mild enough that he’d been able to keep their existence from Adam, while some were so severe that they incapacitated Joe for hours. From what Joe said, the headache he’d suffered at the Brockingtons’ church on Sunday morning was somewhere in-between mild and severe. One moment he was seated between Ben and Hoss, and the next moment he was telling Ben that he needed some fresh air. 

“What?” Ben whispered, trying not to disturb anyone around them.

Joe’s request came through gritted teeth. “Pa, I need you to help me outside.”

Ben would have chided his son, telling him he should have used the water closet before they left home, if he hadn’t noticed the tremble to Joe’s hands, and the way all color seemed to have drained from his face.

Ben was seated next to the aisle, making it easy for him to get up, and then help Joe stand. They’d just gotten outside into the crisp air, when Joe sank to the top step leading into the building.

“Joseph?”

Ben sat down beside his son, wishing he’d grabbed their coats from the vestibule. 

“Joe, what’s wrong?”

Joe took several deep breaths. “Noth-nothing. Just a headache. I-I’ll be okay. Just. . .just need some fresh air.”

“Let me get your coat.”

“No. . .no, don’t need it.”

Ben felt Joe’s forehead. He wasn’t hot to his father’s touch, though his skin was damp and clammy.

“Joe, maybe I should see about finding a doctor. Will you be okay while I go get Adam?”

“Don’t nee-need a doctor, Pa. It’ll pass.”

“Joe–”

“Jus-it’s just a headache. I’ll be fine.”

“I might have been more inclined to believe that if you hadn’t winced while you said it.”

A small portion of Ben’s fear subsided when Joe managed to smile at that remark. But before Ben could say anything more, Adam came out of the building. He sat beside Joe, asking him if he was all right, and lifting his hand to the back of Joe’s neck where he gently massaged. This action on Adam’s part, and the way the two conversed back and forth as though whatever was going on was familiar to them, made Ben immediately suspicious that this wasn’t an isolated episode. 

“Does he need to see a doctor?” Ben had asked his oldest son.

“I don’t think so, Pa. Give him a few minutes. He’s says he’ll be okay.”

“Adam–”

“Just give him a few minutes, Pa.”

It took more than a “few minutes,” but by the time the church service ended forty-five minutes later, Joe was back on his feet and claiming to be fine. If he was anything other than that, Ben couldn’t detect it throughout the afternoon hours they spent at the Brockington estate. That the Cartwrights were in the Brockington house was Adam and Joe’s saving grace where further explanations were concerned. But Ben cornered his oldest child after they arrived home on Sunday night, and let him know that he expected to hear the full story surrounding Joe’s health sooner rather than later. Adam refused to break his brother’s confidence, while at the same time promising an explanation would be forthcoming. 

“Pa, I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything other than Joe has some things he needs to discuss with you. I’ll make sure he understands he has to do that as soon as possible.”

“Yes,” Ben nodded his head. “You make sure he does.”

And now, because of that discussion, Ben was delaying the return trip to Nevada. The original plans were to be in Boston for three weeks. Although the Transcontinental Railroad made travel much easier and safer than it was all those years ago when Ben headed West in a wagon with little Adam on the seat beside him, he still didn’t fancy the notion of being laid over in some Iowa town for a couple of weeks, because the train couldn’t get through the snow. Therefore, he’d wanted to be traveling towards home before December arrived, but in light of Joe’s health, delays due to snowstorms no longer seemed important, and when the trip home would actually take place, Ben couldn’t guess. 

Ben picked up the list and studied it closer. Regardless of what conclusion he might come to about the prospect of surgery, or what conclusion Adam reached, or Hoss decided upon, the decision was ultimately Joe’s. That Joe had gone up to bed early the previous evening, knowing full well what his father and brothers would discuss once he was out of earshot, meant he wanted their input before he decided one way or another. Unfortunately, Ben didn’t know what advice to give his youngest son, any more than Adam or Hoss seemed to know what side of the fence to fall on where this issue was concerned.

It was getting late when Adam and Hoss had finally gone up to bed, leaving this list in the middle of the desk. Ben remained on the main floor another hour. He took long, slow puffs from his pipe, while staring absently out the front window at the glow given off by the streetlamps, then headed up to bed himself. He stopped as he passed Joe’s room. He reached for the knob, quietly opened the door, and stepped inside.

The light from the full moon shining through a separation in the curtains was enough for Ben to see by. He never gave it a thought that he could have lit the gas lamp on the wall, and Joe wouldn’t have known the difference.

Out of the darkness, Ben heard, “Pa?”

“Yes, Joe. How’d you know it was me?”

Ben heard the smile in his son’s voice. 

“A mixture of Bay Rum cologne, pipe tobacco clinging to your shirt, and worry.”

Ben stepped farther into the room. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t wake me. I haven’t really fallen asleep yet. Just been dozing on and off.”

Joe scooted over as Ben sat on the edge of his bed. It seemed like the logical time for them to discuss the list Adam had devised, to discuss the pros and cons of surgery, but for some reason, neither of them mentioned it. 

Ben felt Joe’s hand questing for his. He encased his son’s palm in a strong grip, hoping that action told Joe everything he couldn’t find the words for at that moment.

It must have, because Joe squeezed his hand and said, “I know, Pa. Believe me, I know.”

Ben swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “You mind if I sit here with you for a while?”

“No. You can sit here as long as you want to.”

“All right. But you’d better go to sleep. You’ve got school in the morning, young man.”

That comment made Joe chuckle, like Ben hoped it would. His presence seemed to ease Joe of all the concerns swirling through his mind, because soon, Ben heard the soft, even rhythm of breathing that translated to deep slumber.

He sat beside Joe a while longer, then gingerly let go of his son’s hand so he wouldn’t wake him, and tucked Joe’s arm beneath the covers.

Nothing was said about the surgery at breakfast this morning, what with Adam having to rush off, and then Joe leaving not too long afterwards, but Ben knew they’d have to discuss it soon. 

Still holding the list in his hands, Ben read through it again, and then again, and then one more time. It seemed an effort in futility, but there had to be an answer here somewhere. Just as Ben let out a sigh of frustration and reached up to kneed the bridge of his nose, the front door was thrown open so hard that it banged against the wall.

“Pa! Hey, Pa! Where are you?”

“In here, Hoss. In Adam’s office! And go easy on the door. Your brother’ll have your hide if you dented the–”

Hoss rushed into the room with his father’s coat in his arms.

“Come on!”

“Come on where?”

“There’s a buncha men with buckets runnin’ toward the school.”

“School?”

“Where Joe and Adam work. One of ‘em said the school’s on fire!”

“On fire!”

Ben tossed the hated list toward Adam’s desk and grabbed his coat from Hoss. He followed his son from the room at a run, almost knocking over Mrs. O’Connell in the process.

“Where yeh men be goin’ in such a haste? Don’t yeh want yer lunch, Eric?”

Ben placed his hands on the woman’s shoulders, and tried not to alarm her. 

“Seems there might be some trouble down at the school. If Adam comes home, send him there right away.”

“But he said he’d be goin’ to the school as soon as his meetin’ ended, he did.”

“I know!” Ben shouted, as he ran for the front door. “But if he stops by here, tell him to get to the institute as quick as he can!”

Ben didn’t wait for Mrs. O’Connell’s answer. He hadn’t sprinted down a set of steps at a full gallop in a good many years now, but today he did, following Hoss over the long concrete path that descended from the house to the sidewalk. A surge of fear made Ben’s heart pound harder at the sight of a team of horses rushing past pulling a fire wagon. 

The clang of a bell from somewhere behind Ben indicated another fire wagon was on its way. Men flew out of their homes and businesses throughout Beacon Hill, joining Ben and Hoss in their dash to the school. 

The only thought in Ben’s mind as he ran, was of all those children who couldn’t see. . . . How many would be able to get out safely? And Joe. . .Joe all the way up on the fourth floor of that old building, along with Laddie. Did they have enough notice to get their students and themselves to safety, or were they still teaching, ignorant of the fire that could cut off all escape routes in a matter of minutes?

For just a moment, Ben was awestruck when he reached the school. Flames shot out of first and second story windows. Flames no bucket brigade and fire wagons were going to be able to tame, no matter how many men arrived to help.

Children screamed and cried with fear as adults led them from the building, rushing them down the sidewalk and out of harms way. 

“Look for Joe and Laddie!” Ben shouted to Hoss over the roar of the fire, instinctively knowing that Joe wouldn’t have left the building without Laddie and her students accompanying him. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes!”

Ben barely heard Hoss’s, “Right, Pa!” as they ran in opposite directions, looking for a head of shaggy salt and pepper curls amongst the people who’d safely fled the raging inferno.

Chapter 50

“Fire! Fire!”

Elias Cross screamed, “Fire!” again, as he hurried his students toward the staircase. “Come on! Let’s go! Go, I said! Faster! Move faster!”

The proximity of the man’s voice led Joe to him. He grabbed Cross by the arm.

“Have you told the other teachers?”

“What’s the matter, Cartwright? Are you deaf as well as blind? I just yelled fire, didn’t I?”

“Did you knock on their doors?”

“No I didn’t knock on their doors. Unhand me! I have a responsibility to my students!”

“You have a responsibility to every student on this floor, Cross! Now help me notify the rest of the teachers.”

Cross wrenched himself from Joe’s grasp, and shoved Joe aside. 

“Get away from me, Cartwright, and stay away!” He turned back to his students, running until he was at the head of the line. “Come on! We’re at the top of the stairs. Start moving down! Follow my voice! Hurry! Hurry! Come on now, hurry!”

“You jackass of a coward,” Joe muttered, fury burning so strong that if it weren’t for the children relying on him, he’d have followed Cross and beaten him to a pulp. The man could see. He should have been the last one to leave this floor, not the first.

Joe turned back to his boys. He could smell wispy tendrils of smoke starting to fill the hall. He quickly moved among his students, identifying each one by nothing other than a touch to a shoulder, or to the top of a head, or the side of a face, and gave orders they were too scared to question.

“Henry, get to the front of the line. Billy, get behind Henry. Pete, you’re next. Jacob, get behind Pete. Tony, get behind Jake. Caleb, stand here behind Tony. . . .”

On and on Joe went, until he had all the boys lined up with a younger child in-between two older ones. 

“Now grab the hand of the boy in front of you and don’t let go.” 

Once Joe’s human chain was formed, he shoved Shakespeare’s leash into Henry’s hands. 

“Hang onto Shakespeare, Henry. Keep everyone here. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, but–”

“Henry, keep everyone here!”

That Henry offered no further protest was a testament to his fear, as well as his trust in Joe.

Joe hurried down the corridor, his right hand gliding across the wall. He didn’t hear any noises coming from the other classrooms that indicated Cross’s cry of, “Fire!” had penetrated their closed doors.

Keeping one hand on the wall for bearing, Joe did what Cross could have accomplished in half the time. He pounded on the first door he came to, while opening it and yelling, “Fire! Everyone out! Fire! Get your students out!”

When there was no sound of a teacher taking charge, or students jumping to their feet, Joe paused to listen. The room had an empty air about it that even a blind man could detect.

Joe moved on. He repeated the pattern of pounding on the door and calling fire with the next room he came to, and then the next, and then the one after that, only to find each one empty. With the exception of Cross, no other teacher on this floor would leave under these circumstances without making sure everyone got out of the building. Joe didn’t have time to dwell on where these teachers and students might be – in the school’s newspaper office, on a field trip, outside at recess – the “where” wasn’t important right now. What was important was the fact that all the sighted teachers on the floor were gone, leaving Joe and Laddie to get their students to safety without help.

Music came from Laddie’s room – the sound of a piano, and girls’ voices singing “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful.” Laddie’s students were among several dozen slated to perform at the school’s benefit concert scheduled for the second week in December. The practice session explained why Laddie hadn’t heard anything going on in the hallway. 

Joe pounded on Laddie’s door and thrust it open.

“Laddie, come on! Get your girls outta here!”

Notes still vibrated from the piano keys even as Laddie stopped playing. The girls’ voices slowly dwindled out with confusion at the interruption.

“Joe. . . ? What’s going on? Why. . .”

“There’s a fire.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, but the hallway’s already filling with smoke. Get the girls out here. I’ll help line them up.”

Laddie instructed her students to place their songbooks on their desks, and then make their way to the door in an orderly fashion.

“Come on, girls,” Joe urged, touching each shoulder that passed by him. He couldn’t identify Laddie’s girls like he could his boys. “Come on, get out in the hall. Line up along this wall.”

The smoke was thicker now. Joe coughed, and for a few brief seconds when he squinted, he swore he saw the foggy haze that was filling his lungs with noxious fumes. 

“Laddie, have your girls line up so an older one is in front of a younger one, then make them hold hands!”

“All right!”

Laddie could identify her students by touch as easily as Joe could identify his. 

“Mary, stand at the front of the line. Beatrice, there’s no time for crying, honey. We’ll be all right. Now you stand here behind Mary. Jane, stand behind Beatrice. Martha, stand behind Jane.”

Laddie hurried along until she had all twenty of her girls lined up. 

“Ready?” Joe questioned.

“Yes.”

“I’m gonna lead your girls to my boys. Come on. Take my hand!”

Laddie grasped Joe’s left hand. He placed his right hand on Mary’s shoulder.

“Come on, girls! We’re moving about thirty steps forward. Hurry, but no running! Don’t trip anyone, and keep holding hands.”

When they reached Joe’s class, Joe put Mary’s free hand into the free hand of John, the teenager bringing up the rear of boys’ line.

“Laddie, have the girls call off their names! I’ll do the same with the boys, then we’re gettin’ outta here.”

“Okay!”

Joe started with Henry, ordering the boys to call off one by one. He mentally took attendance, confident all twenty of his students were present when the last boy in line shouted, “John!”

Joe was just about to tell Laddie to grab the hand of the last girl in her line, with his own plans to take Shakespeare’s leash in one hand, and Henry’s hand in the other, when Laddie cried, “Charlotte! Charlotte, where are you? Charlotte! Does anyone know where Charlotte is?”

Joe shouted, “Did we miss one?”

“No, she was here, Joe! I know she was. But she’s so little. She won’t be six for another month. She might have gotten scared and ran back to my room!”

“All right. I’ll go find her!”

“No, I’ll go. She’ll come to me if she’s frightened!”

Smoke blanketed the hall now, causing the kids to cough and wheeze. Laddie was gone before Joe could stop her. He hurried to the front of the line again, barely taking notice that he could see the shadowy outlines of the children through the haze, and the rusty red color of Henry’s hair. He grasped the teenager by the shoulders.

“Henry, you’re gonna have to lead the kids outta here. Our boys, and Miss Brockington’s girls, too.”

“But, Mr. Cart–”

“Look, Henry, you can do it. I know you can. Shakespeare knows the way. He’ll keep you safe. Just hang onto his leash and go wherever he leads you. He’ll take you outside, I promise.”

“O-okay. If-if you say so.”

“I do. I’m counting on you, Henry.”

Those seemed to be the words Henry needed to bolster his confidence.

“I can do it, Mr. Cartwright. I can.”

Joe briefly cupped the side of Henry’s face. “I know you can, son. Now get moving. You’re at the top of the stairs. Tell Shakespeare, “Forward,” and he’ll go.”

As Henry did that, Joe moved down the line, instructing the children to hang onto each other’s hands no matter what. 

Caleb stopped his progress. He grasped Joe’s arm.

“I didn’t do it, Mr. Cartwright! I didn’t!”

Joe knelt beside the child. “You didn’t do what?”

“I didn’t start the fire!”

Joe smiled, running a hand through the boy’s hair – hair that he could faintly see was the color of winter wheat. 

“I know you didn’t, Caleb. Now come on. Take Tony’s hand again, and don’t let go.”

“But I don’t wanna leave without you.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout me. I’ll be outta here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Now do as I say. Take Tony’s hand.”

Without realizing he didn’t fumble at all when seeking out the boys’ hands, Joe cleanly slipped Caleb’s into Tony’s.

Joe kept reminding the kids to hold hands, while assuring them they’d be all right as they passed by him in a linked line. Those in front were already making their way down the stairs, as Shakespeare led them toward the third floor. Joe could only pray the dog would find them safe passage to the first floor, and then to one of several doors that led outside. Or, better yet, he prayed they’d meet up with a sighted person who could take charge of them. He imagined that, by now, caretakers and groundskeepers were doing all they could to help the students from the building.

As the last girl reached the top step, Joe ran for Laddie’s classroom. Black would give way to gray, then reappear, then give way again, as though Joe’s sight was fighting to return. There was no time for Joe to worry about what this meant. If a blood clot killed him instantly – well, it was a better way to die than burning up in a fire, that was for sure. However, before death claimed him, no matter what the cause, Joe was determined to get Laddie to safety. Adam had suffered enough in recent years. He didn’t need to lose this woman he loved more than he was willing to acknowledge.

Joe could hear Laddie yelling, “Charlotte! Charlotte!” as he ran in to her room. He joined in the search.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, where are you?”

Joe dropped to his knees, trying to think of places a child would hide. 

“Feel under the desks, Laddie!” 

Joe didn’t wait for an answer as his hands traveled a row of cupboards that held books and paper. He opened door after door, feeling inside while calling the child’s name. When he didn’t find the missing girl, he searched under Laddie’s desk, then beneath the piano, and then crawled to every corner of the room, trying not to think of how much precious time they were losing. Trying not to think of how even just a few seconds could make the difference between life and death when attempting to escape a fire. He crossed the room next, and searched the cupboards lining another wall. It wasn’t until he reached the very last cabinet that he saw a flash of blue gingham topped by a white pinafore, then heard sobs.

“Come on, Charlotte. It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re gonna be fine.” He reached inside, pulling the huddled child out and into his arms. Over his shoulder he yelled to Laddie, “I found her!” 

“Where?”

“In one of the cupboards. I’ve got her in my arms. Now come on, let’s get outta here!”

Joe shifted Charlotte to his right hip. He held out his left hand, snaring Laddie’s arm as her shadow came into view through the smoke. She moved her hand up to clasp his, so she and Joe, too, formed a human chain.

Laddie crooned words of comfort to the crying Charlotte, as Joe led the way out of the room.

“Stop crying now, Charlotte. It’ll be okay. We’ll be outside soon.”

“I want my mama!”

“I know you do, sweetheart, but Mama isn’t here, so you must be a brave girl and do what Mr. Cartwright and I say. Can you do that for me?”

Joe felt a small nod against his shoulder. He assumed the child verbally answered Laddie as well, but between the sound of fire burning somewhere below them, and his own coughs, he couldn’t hear what she said. She’d calmed down a little though, so at least Laddie’s presence was soothing her. 

“Joe, where are we?”

Joe squinted, no longer knowing if his world was gray because his eyes were playing some sort of tricks on him, or because he was actually seeing what was ahead of him. 

“Almost to the stairs. Hang onto my hand! We’re headed to the first floor as fast as I can get us there.”

“But the fire! I can hear it!”

“Never mind the fire! Let me worry about that. Just don’t let go of my hand, Laddie. I’ll get us outta here! I promise.”

In many ways, all of this time spent without his sight was an asset for Joe. Even with perfect vision, he wouldn’t have been able to see through the smoke. Therefore, he had to rely on how well he’d come to know this building in order to get himself, Laddie, and little Charlotte to safety. Joe hugged the wall with his body, silently counting each stair step as he led Laddie to the third floor, and then continued down toward the second. 

The fire roared louder now, and the smoke was so thick that tears streamed from Joe’s burning eyes. Charlotte had her head buried in Joe’s shirt, trying in vain to keep the smoke out of her lungs, while Laddie’s choking coughs spoke of how little fresh air she was getting. As Joe rounded the corner to the landing that would drop them off on the second floor, or allow them to continue down the stairs to the first, a flash of orange through the gray caught his attention. He looked the other way, seeing fire roaring from that direction, too. The flames were just seconds away from gobbling up the second floor landing.

He turned around, dragging Laddie along with him.

“Where’re we going?”

“We can’t get out this way! We’re going back to the third floor!”

“But, Joe, we can’t go up there! We’ll be trap. . . “

“Laddie, just hang onto my hand! Now come on, let’s go!”

Joe dashed up the stairs. The speed of his sprint forced Laddie to lift the hem of her skirts with her free hand so she wouldn’t trip.

When his boots hit the third floor landing, Joe turned left, pulling Laddie into the first classroom he came to. It was directly below his room, meaning that it, too, had a long bank of windows that faced the street below.

Joe shut the door. The room was filled with smoke, but by closing the door, Joe hoped to keep more smoke from drifting in. He ran to the windows, steering Laddie clear of the vague outline of desks. 

He thrust Charlotte into Laddie’s arms.

“Hang onto her! Whatever you do, don’t set her down!”

Coughing and gasping, the sweat-soaked Joe unlatched a middle window and raised it. He stuck his head out, and was immediately overwhelmed by the smoke rising from below. He pulled his upper body back into the room. He’d seen enough fires in the timberlands of the West to know that the smoke could shift quickly, depending on a change in the wind. Just because he was obscured from view now, didn’t mean someone below wouldn’t be able to see him a minute from now.

Joe looked around the room. Everything was fuzzy and out-of-focus. His sight suddenly went black again, as an excruciating stab of pain ripped from one temple straight through to the other like a bolt of lightning streaking across the sky.

No! Not now! No! Joe silently pleaded. Not now! 

He doubled over for a just a second, clutching his head. Then, as quickly as the pain came, it was gone, and that fuzzy, out-of-focus world was back. 

Joe took in smoky gulps of air as he looked around the room again. He spotted what he wanted and dashed for it. Laddie’s soft words of comfort to the terrified Charlotte droned on in the background, as the roar of a fire rapidly digesting a stairway grew ever closer.

Joe ran with the American flag like a soldier charging a hill. He thrust it out of the open window and waved it back and forth, all the while praying someone saw it as he yelled, “Up here! We’re up here! Hey, we’re up here!”

Chapter 51

Adam tucked his wool scarf a little deeper inside his topcoat. The wind ruffled his hair and nipped his cheeks almost numb, reminding him that winter would soon settle in for good. The blustery, gray day didn’t dampen Adam’s spirits, however. The meeting at Edward’s office had been a profitable one, both figuratively speaking, as well as literally. Next year’s budget should now allow for additional dorm parents, three additional teachers, and some necessary improvements to the school building. And Joe’s dream of starting a school in Virginia City might even have taken on the beginnings of roots today. Of course, roots were a long way from a full-grown tree, but if nothing else, Adam would be able to offer his brother some solid advice and guidance when they sat down together in December and discussed, “Joe’s Western School,” as Adam was already thinking of it. 

The headmaster tried not to allow troublesome thoughts of his brother’s health to intrude into his plans for the future. Whether or not Joe should have surgery. . .well, Adam hadn’t formed an opinion yet. He’d venture to guess his father and Hoss hadn’t, either. How the hell does a man help his brother decide whether or not to undergo an operation that would likely kill him? Yet, choosing not to have the operation might prove to be just as deadly. It was a dilemma Adam had avoided thinking about that morning, when he needed to concentrate on the meeting instead. But now that the meeting had ended, Joe’s fate pushed its way to the forefront of Adam’s mind.

He paid little attention to the passing scenery, not registering at first, the fire wagon that passed them, or the men running behind it carrying buckets. It wasn’t until the stable boy driving the carriage pointed toward the east. 

“Look, Headmaster. Smoke there in the distance.”

Adam stared at the thick black cloud billowing upward. 

“Whatever’s a’ burnin’ is sure burnin’ hot and fast.”

“Yes, it certainly is,” Adam agreed, leaning forward in his seat. “Have the horse pick up his pace, Darby. If that fire’s anywhere near the school, we’d better evacuate the building just to err on the side of caution.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The young man slapped the horse’s rump with the reins. “Gid-up! Gid-up, there now! Gid-up!”

The sudden change in speed threw Adam backwards, but he didn’t complain. Fire could burn through a city quickly, especially on a windy day like this one. If even the smallest flicker of flames danced close to the school, Adam wanted the students and staff out as fast as possible. A couple of hours standing in the cold while waiting for the danger to pass, was better than being trapped in a burning building.

Adam reviewed his options for housing the students, if the safest choice was to leave the school empty throughout the night. Edward would be the first to volunteer to put up a good portion of the children in his home, and Adam could probably make room for Joe’s boys, even though they’d have to sleep on the floors throughout the first and second story. At least Pa and Hoss were there to help keep an eye on the kids. And then there were other staff members who lived in Boston, too, who could temporarily house students, as well as house teachers who resided at the school. 

All in all, Adam thought he was prepared for what he might be facing, until the carriage turned a corner, and he saw it wasn’t a building near the school that was on fire, but the school itself.

Chapter 52

Adam jumped from the moving carriage. He shoved people aside, looking for anyone he recognized. Of the two hundred students in the building, fifty were gone on a field trip to a candy factory owned by a blind man. That covered many of the students on the fourth floor. Amongst the exceptions, however, were Elias Cross’s students, because he found field trips to be “frivolous endeavors,” and refused to allow his class to participate in them. The remaining exceptions were Joe’s class and Laddie’s class, because this wasn’t an excursion first-year students went on.

A cry of, “Headmaster! Headmaster, over here!” drew Adam’s attention to the grounds north of the school. He weaved through firemen and ordinary citizens with buckets of water, fighting his way to Killian Murphy. As he got closer, Adam saw Killian’s wife, Maggie, the entire kitchen staff, teachers, nurses, caretakers, groundskeepers, stable boys, and children – the beautiful sight of scores of children milling about, being tended to by adults attempting to calm their fears and dry their eyes.

Adam scanned the crowd for a glimpse of Laddie or Joe, while asking, “Killian, is everyone out?”

“I’m not certain, Sir. We were just ‘bout to take a headcount, we were.” 

The man reeked of smoke; his clothes and face were smudged with soot, and his eyes bloodshot. Adam wondered how many times Killian had risked his life to run into that building in an effort to get children to safety. He noted groundskeepers and caretakers in the same condition, their continuous coughing and streaming eyes a testament to multiple trips in and out of the burning school. 

Adam stood on the toes of his boots, straining to see over the crowd. “My brother and Miss Brockington. . .?”

“I’m sorry, Headmaster, I ‘aven’t seen ‘em yet. But surely they got out. Mr. Cross did.”

Adam moved amongst his staff and students, searching for Elias Cross. He took careful note of everyone he passed. Other than the teachers away on the field trip, the only names he hadn’t silently recited in his own form of taking attendance were Laddie Brockington and Joe Cartwright.

Elias Cross stood at the far edge of the crowd, forever the outsider by his own choice. Adam ran over to him.

“Elias, where’re my brother and Miss Brockington?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“What do you mean, you wouldn’t know? You didn’t leave them behind, did you?”

“Really, Headmaster, your brother is a most stubborn man. Wants to do things his own way, like a cowboy on the range, I quite imagine.”

“Does that mean you saw him?”

“Yes, I saw him. He tried to keep me and my students from leaving.”

“If he tried to keep you from leaving, then he had a good reason.”

“Not one that I could see.”

“Did he ask for your help, Cross?”

When Elias refused to answer, Adam grabbed a fistful of the man’s suit coat and jerked him forward. 

“I asked you a question, Elias. Did my brother ask for your help?”

The man paled in the face of Adam’s fury. “He. . .he might have. Something about notifying the other teachers on our floor. But I’d already yelled fire, and besides, my first responsibility was to my students, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

And with that, Adam let go of the man’s coat, drew back his fist, and punched Elias in the jaw. The teacher flew backwards; landing sprawled on the ground, his limbs akimbo like some kind of ill-manufactured long-legged doll a child had discarded.

Adam glared down at the man, not caring who’d just witnessed his assault on the teacher.

“You know, Cross, my brother’s right. You are a whiney jackass. 

Adam turned away from Cross, unable to stand the sight of him. He put one foot forward, almost in motion to dash into the burning school, when someone hailed him over the roar of the fire.

“Adam! Hey, Adam! Adam, over here!”

The voice belonged to one of Adam’s brothers, but not the brother he was searching for.

Chapter 53

Adam looked to his right, seeing his father and Hoss running toward him. He didn’t bother asking them how they’d known about the fire, or how long they’d been on the grounds. The only question of importance came from his mouth the instant they reached his side.

“Have you seen Joe and Laddie?”

By the looks on their faces, Adam knew the answer before Hoss gave it.

“Haven’t seen neither of ‘em. Hoped they’d be over here somewhere with the other teachers.”

“They’re not.” Adam said. “No one’s seen them. And I haven’t seen their students, either.”

Pa’s eyes traveled to the flames shooting from a second story window. “We tried getting in the building. The firemen wouldn’t let us near it.”

Adam’s gaze locked with his father’s. “Since when do the Cartwrights let something like that stop them?”

“That’s exactly what I said to Hoss right before we spotted you.”

“Come on,” Adam beckoned, pointing toward the rear of the building. “There’s a back hall where supplies are delivered. Maybe we can get in that way.”

The three men ran together toward the back of the school. The wind blew smoke over their heads, but that didn’t prevent them from swallowing a good dose of it. The closer they got to the building, the harder it was to breathe. Adam wondered how much longer anyone trapped in the school could possibly survive. Did they have minutes left, or only seconds, or had Laddie, Joe, and their students, already perished? 

Adam stopped short, stunned and almost disbelieving, when through the gray haze, he saw Shakespeare emerge from the door that opened into the back hall. Following Shakespeare was Henry, gripping the dog’s leash. He passed the leash off to the child behind him, Billy Fitzgerald. Henry briefly said something to Billy, then remained where he was and held the door open for the rest of the students, who appeared one by one, holding hands, coughing, and in some cases crying, but alive. Very much alive.

The boys came first – Adam counted all twenty of them as he sped toward them – and then came the line of girls. Shakespeare knew exactly where he wanted to take his charges – to the ball diamond they often played on, that was far enough away from the burning building to provide safety. 

Adam was barely aware of other people joining him and his family – Killian, Maggie, and several of the caretakers, ushered the children over to their fellow students and teachers. He heard Maggie’s, “They’re all here but one!” which he took to mean a student of Laddie’s was missing. He waited by the open door, straining to see down the smoke-filled hallway, sure that at any moment, Laddie, Joe, and the missing child would appear.

Henry’s shouts of, “Is everyone out? Are they all here?” drew Adam’s attention to the teenager. He put his hand on Henry’s shoulder.

“Henry, where are Miss Brockington and my brother?”

The boy bent over at the waist, his hands on his knees as he took big gulps of fresh air. Adam bent down so he could hear the teen.

“They wen-went ta’ look for Charlotte,” Henry explained between coughs. “She ra-ran way-away and hid. Mr. Cartwright made me take Shakespeare and lead the rest of the kids out. Are they all here? Did they get out?”

“Everyone’s here, Henry. You did a top-notch job.”

“But what about Mr. Cartwright and Miss Brock–”

“I’ll find them. Now come on. Go with Mr. Murphy. He’ll take you to where everyone’s gathered. You’ll be safe there.”

Adam passed the teenager off to the dorm father. He looked at his own father and Hoss, both ready to enter the building with their kerchiefs tied around their noses and mouths. If Joe could see them, he’d laugh and say they looked like a couple of misfit bank robbers, but now wasn’t the time to think of Joe’s quick wit. Now was the time to try and find him and Laddie.

Adam didn’t bother asking his father or brother to tie his own kerchief around his face. With the toe of his boot, he knocked a block of wood they kept by the door beneath its frame, so it would stay propped open. He then dashed into the building with Pa and Hoss right behind him. Smoke immediately filled Adam’s lungs and burned his eyes. As thick and solid as a wall, the black smoke obscured Adam’s vision in a way that gave him an idea of what it must feel like to be blind.

Despite their determination, the three men didn’t make it beyond the point where that supply hallway opened onto the main corridor of the first floor. A wall of fire rolling at them from both ends of the corridor drove them back. Hoss grabbed onto his father’s coat and yelled, “Come on, Pa! Come on! We gotta get outta here!” when it appeared as though Pa didn’t plan on letting anything stop him from finding his youngest son.

They tumbled out into the yard, coughing and gasping for air, Pa and Hoss pulling their kerchiefs from their faces and using them to wipe their burning eyes. Just as the first powerful waves of grief washed over Adam as he thought of what must have happened to his little brother, the woman he loved, and a child so young that he almost hadn’t accepted her for this year’s school term, two of his caretakers rounded the corner.

“Headmaster! Headmaster, ‘round front! They’re around front!”

Adam didn’t have to ask who “they” were. He followed Ray and Boyd, shouting to his father and Hoss, “Come on!”

As Adam reached the front of the building, he expected to see Laddie, Joe, and Charlotte standing somewhere on the sidewalk, but instead, his eyes were directed thirty feet upward by Ray’s pointing finger and instruction of, “Look!”

Adam wasn’t sure who mumbled a shocked, “Oh my Lord. . .” – himself, his father, Hoss, or some other bystander altogether.

An American flag waved back and forth from an open third story window. Seconds later, the flag’s movement stopped, and Joe stuck his head out.

“We’re up here! Hey, up here! We’re up here!” 

Yes, you’re up there, all right, Adam thought, watching with dismay as flames ate their way through the first and second floors, showing no signs of slowing in their hungry quest for the remainder of the building. 

You’re up there, and I have no idea how the hell we’re going to get you down.

Chapter 54

The room grew hotter with each passing minute, as though someone was shoveling coal into an already overheated boiler. That meant just one thing – the fire was burning fiercer, and getting closer. 

Joe coughed through the film of smoke, calling again, “We’re up here! Hey, we’re up here!”

At first, the call back was faint and garbled by all the noise below. But the second time it came, it was louder and clearer, as though everyone outside the building had been ordered to be quiet.

“Joe! Joe, we’re right below ya’! Are Laddie and the little girl with you?”

It was Hoss’s voice, and as the smoke momentarily parted and blew off to the north, Joe saw the shadowy image of his middle brother. His vision wasn’t clear enough to make out Hoss’s features, but he could see the burly brown coat his brother wore, and the ten-gallon hat sitting on top of his head.

“Hoss!” Joe called back.

With his hands cupped around his mouth so the sound would travel better, Hoss repeated, “Joe, are Laddie and the girl with you?” 

“Yeah! They’re right here behind me!”

“Okay! Joe, now listen ta’ me, and listen ta’ me good! You’re gonna have ta’ throw ‘em down ta’ me, then you’re gonna have ta’ jump!”

Before Joe could yell, “What?” in a voice he was certain would have come out three octaves above his normal range, he noticed Adam and Pa for the first time. Like Hoss’s features, theirs were indistinct. Nonetheless, just by their wild gestures, Joe could tell they were saying a few, “What’s?” of their own to Hoss’s plan, and probably a good number of other things as well. 

Joe knew the raging fire wasn’t going to allow for any kind of a logical plan on Adam’s part, or a safe plan on Pa’s. Therefore, the only possible plan to follow was the one Hoss had already lain out. 

The man didn’t wait for his family to finish their discussion. He charged to the front of the room and tossed the teacher’s chair out of the way. He grabbed one end of the teacher’s desk and pushed it across the floor, stopping when he reached the open window. In this classroom, like in all the rest, the windows were long and wide, probably built that way to allow as much of a breeze in as possible during the warm days of September and May. Right now, the reason for their size didn’t matter. What did matter was, the length and width just might be an asset.

“Joe?” Laddie asked, “Joe, what are you doing?”

“Moving the desk.”

“Why?”

“So I have something to stand on.” Joe scrambled onto the desk, then turned to the woman. “Give me Charlotte.”

She tightened her grip on the child with a questioning, “Joe. . .?” 

Laddie had evidently heard enough of what Hoss said to have strong reservations about implementing it. Not that Joe blamed her, but if his father and brothers were gathered on the street below, then that meant it was no longer possible for anyone to get into the building.

“Give her to me, Laddie.”

“What are you–”

“Just give me Charlotte. It’ll be okay. We’re gonna get outta here.”

“How?”

“Hoss is down below us. Adam and my pa, too.”

When all Laddie said was a hesitant, “But. . . .” Joe surmised the fear filling her mind prevented her from wondering how he knew his father and Adam were with Hoss. 

“Don’t worry. As my pa would be the first to tell you, Hoss and I have pulled off some pretty “darn fool” things in our day, without a scratch to either one of us. We won’t let you or Charlotte get hurt.”

“But what about a ladder? Can’t they set a ladder up?”

“They must not have one tall enough to reach us,” Joe answered. He left out the other reason a ladder would no longer be of any help to them. Flames were shooting out of the windows below them. A ladder would be incinerated seconds after being propped against the building.

Although Laddie didn’t like Hoss’s plan, she must have come to the same realization Joe had. That if Adam was on the street, as opposed to racing up the stairway to rescue her, then the only possible escape was through the window. She reluctantly passed the sobbing Charlotte to Joe.

As he turned toward the window, Joe ordered, “Stay right here behind me.”

Laddie let out a small, uneasy laugh. “I don’t think my options for going anywhere else are very good at the moment.”

“No,” Joe agreed, with a small laugh of his own “I don’t think so, either.”

Joe held Charlotte’s upper body tightly against his chest with his right arm; her legs sprawled over his left. He couldn’t allow her to clamp her arms around his neck. If she managed to get in that position, he’d never be able to get her loose and toss her to Hoss.

He stuck his head out the window again. If his family’s debate wasn’t over yet, he’d put a quick end to it. He could hear the crackle of burning wood as the flames climbed the stairway. There was no time left for anyone to come up with another escape plan.

Through the smoke, Joe caught a glimpse of a black top hat to Pa’s left, and a white carriage parked on the other side of the street. Somehow, word of the fire had reached Edward Brockington. Joe didn’t tell Laddie her father was below, as he focused solely on communicating with Hoss.

“Hoss!”

“I’m right here, Joe!”

“Just like at home, Hoss! It’s no different than when I’m in the loft!”

“Gottcha’, little brother!”

That, “Gottcha’, little brother!” told Joe that Hoss understood what he’d meant by the reference to the loft. Now that he was on the desk in front of the big open window, it was similar to standing in the barn’s hayloft. Joe couldn’t count the number of times over the years that he’d cleanly tossed sacks full of feed down to Hoss, and Hoss had cleanly caught them. Of course, he was thirty feet off the ground this time, not fifteen. And between his wavering eyesight and the smoke, not to mention the flames at the windows right below him, this would likely be a lot more challenging than what he and Hoss were used to, but they didn’t have any choice. Besides, Charlotte weighed less than a sack of feed, so at least that was in their favor. 

“I’ve got the girl, Hoss! I’m sending her down!”

“Okay! I’m at the edge of the sidewalk, Joe! That’s as close as I can get! I’m right outside the window you’re at, standin’ at the edge of the sidewalk!”

“All right!” Joe called in return, not telling Hoss he could make out the outline of his body. This wasn’t the time to get everyone excited about the return of his eyesight. First of all, Joe wasn’t holding out any hope that it would last long. And second of all, if he died today, he didn’t want Pa grieving over a miracle Joe hadn’t lived to enjoy.

Hoss kept calling instructions, telling Joe how many feet he was from the building, so Joe would have a way to judge how far he’d have to toss Charlotte. It was a risky enough action if a man possessed good vision. Joe’s was indistinct at best, and the smoke wasn’t helping any. But it was either this, or stay up here with Laddie and Charlotte and wait to suffocate to death, or burn to death. Neither option appealed to Joe. If he was going to meet his Maker today, then he was doing it on his own terms. 

Joe spoke briefly to Charlotte. He had no regrets about lying to her. After all, regardless of age, no one wanted to be told they were about to be thrown out a window.

“Charlotte, honey, my brother is standing right outside waiting for me to hand you to him. He’s a big, strong, friendly man. He’ll keep you safe.”

Whether the girl heard him or not, Joe didn’t know. Her sobs continued without interruption, and he thought maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was best if she was frightened to the point that she could no longer process what was happening.

“Hoss! You ready?”

“I’m ready, Joe!”

“She weighs about 40 pounds!”

“All right! Send her down!”

Joe said a fast prayer, waited a second longer for the smoke to part again, saw the outline of Hoss standing at the edge of the sidewalk, judged the distance he needed to cover, and then pitched Charlotte out of the window like he’d pitch a sack of feed out of the hayloft.

The child’s hysterical screams followed her all the way to Hoss’s arms. Joe didn’t have to be able to see clearly to know Hoss had caught her. The cheers that filtered up through the sound of the fire told him Charlotte was safely on the ground.

Seconds later, Joe heard Hoss’s holler of, “Joe, I’m ready for Laddie!”

“All right!”

Joe turned around. “Charlotte’s down, Laddie. It’s your turn next.”

“Is she okay?”

“She fine. Hoss caught her, just like I knew he would. Now come on.”

Joe put his hands on Laddie arms and helped her climb onto the desk. She was close enough now for Joe to get his first good look at her. By any account, she was a beautiful woman. Pale blue eyes, an unblemished, fine-boned face, tiny hands that fit perfectly on a petite body that couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and five pounds, topped by hair the color of desert sand – a cross between gold and ivory. 

Joe scooped up Laddie, holding her the same way he’d held Charlotte. Tossing her beyond the flames below would be a little trickier, since she was larger than Charlotte, but Joe knew he could do it, just like he knew Hoss could catch her. He felt the woman trembling against his chest.

“Don’t worry. Hoss’ll catch you.”

In a firm voice that nonetheless wasn’t able to hide her fear, she said, “I know.”

Joe moved to the edge of the desk, and again waited for the wind to part the smoke so he could judge the distance he needed to throw Laddie. Hoss shouted from below, guiding Joe with his voice. 

“Joe, come on! I’m ready!”

“She weighs about a hundred pounds, Hoss!”

“Okay!”

“Joe Cartwright. . .”

Joe laughed at Laddie’s scolding tone. “Sorry about that, but he has to know.”

“I hope he’s caught a hundred pounds before.”

“Oh, no need to fret about that. He’s caught a lot more than a hundred pounds, and I’ve tossed a lot more than that to him.” 

“All. . .all right.”

Joe gave the woman a quick kiss on her temple. “When this is all over, if that oldest brother of mine doesn’t ask you to marry him, then you tell him I’m gonna ask you.”

“For him, or for you?”

“For me, of course. Pa’s always sayin’ I need a wife to keep me on a straight and narrow path.”

Laddie laughed, which is what Joe wanted her to do. She didn’t have time to say anything else before Joe called, “Hoss! Here she comes!” and threw her out the window.

Laddie didn’t scream going down, but Joe knew she must have wanted to. Her arms and legs flailed as her skirts billowed above her thighs. It wasn’t the most modest way for a lady to travel, but modesty was hardly important at this moment.

Again, cheers from below told Joe that his brother had caught the woman. Seconds later, Hoss’s call came again.

“Joe! Come on! Hurry!”

Joe stood at the edge of the desk, looking below. His vision was no clearer, but that’s not what made him hesitate. He paused because he had no idea how to jump without hurting Hoss. He didn’t think he could jump in a seated position, like he’d tossed Charlotte and Laddie. Yet, slamming into Hoss by going down feet first could injure both of them.

The shouts escalated from below, as Adam and Pa joined with Hoss in urging Joe to jump. Joe knew that meant the fire was spreading even more rapidly. As he stepped out onto the window ledge, still trying to decide how he should proceed, the door rattled behind him, as though someone was trying to break into the classroom. That “someone” was the fire. It gobbled up the door with a whooshing roar. Just as the man bent his knees to leap, an explosion rocked the building, sending glass, wood, bricks, and Joe Cartwright, soaring through the air.

~ ~ ~

For a few moments, Joe felt like he was flying. He went up, instead of down, and seemed to hang in mid-air for several seconds, before he plunged toward the ground. With no warning, his vision was suddenly as clear as it had been before he’d lost his sight. As he fell toward the sidewalk, Joe saw the terror in his father’s eyes, the disbelief in Adam’s, and the determination in Hoss’s. Then, as unexpectedly as his plunge started, it was over, and Joe saw nothing.

Chapter 55

Adam trudged up the sidewalk toward home, Shakespeare at his side. Exhaustion and the smell of smoke both clung heavily to the headmaster, making him long for a hot bath and a soft bed. He’d been moving non-stop throughout the afternoon, and well into the evening hours. So much had needed to be done, from making arrangements to house the students, to assuring the children that everything would be fine, to assigning various staff members the responsibility of wiring parents to let them know about the fire, that their child was unharmed, and that Christmas break was starting right now. It would likely be a week or two before most of the children were headed home, and some would probably have to remain with family, friends, or school staff members here in Boston, but at least the notification process was underway. Adam didn’t want any parent to read of the fire in a newspaper, before having heard about it first from the institute.

The fact that no children had been harmed was the best news of all. The building was gone, other than a few walls that stood as charred and blackened reminders of the school Adam had grown to love. The fire still smoldered, and would do so for days yet, but at least it hadn’t spread to other parts of the city, or to any other area of the school’s grounds. The boys’ dormitory was still standing as well, and other than needing a good cleaning and airing out to get rid of the soot and smoke that had drifted in, it could be occupied again in January. Since the girls’ dormitory was attached to the school, it had been lost to the fire. 

Like the children, all of Adam’s staff members were accounted for and unharmed. Well, all except for Joe. He’d been unconscious when Hoss carried him to the carriage Edward insisted they use. Joe was taken back to Adam’s house, pale and limp in Hoss’s arms, with Pa and Hiram Nichols riding in the carriage, too. Hiram had arrived at the school to see if he could be of any help just seconds before Joe’s dramatic exit from the third story. Amongst the blessings God provided that day, Hiram’s timely appearance was one of them. 

As much as Adam had wanted to be in that carriage with his family, his responsibility to the school forced him to remain behind. Pa understood, because he was the first to say, “We’ll take care of Joseph. You stay here and do what you need to.”

So, Adam had stayed at the institute, all the while hoping his father would send word about Joe. But word never came, which worried Adam now, as he walked home after dark with the gas streetlights glowing overhead. Even this far from the school, he could still smell the smoldering wood and paper. 

Adam hadn’t seen Laddie for several hours, either. As long as he lived, he knew he’d never forget the fear and apprehension that lodged in his throat as he watched Joe throw little Charlotte out of that window, followed by Laddie. Adam trusted Hoss, but this was hardly the escape plan he wanted to see put into action. Trouble was, neither Adam nor his father could come up with any other way to get Joe, Laddie and Charlotte out of the building. Every second counted by then, and Hoss’s plan was the only one available to them. To think that Hoss could guide their blind brother with nothing but his voice when it came to throwing two human beings out a third story window of a burning building. . .well, Adam hadn’t thought it possible at first. However, he should have known that with all the crazy things Hoss and Joe had done over the years, they were well-matched to pull off something this crazy, too. And praise God that they were.

After Joe was taken from the scene, Laddie insisted to Adam and her father that she was fine. She had her father carry Charlotte to where the other children were, going along with him, and taking charge of her girls again. Seventeen of Laddie’s students were staying at the Brockington mansion tonight, while three of them who lived in Boston, including Charlotte, were already at home with their families. Whether Charlotte would ever get over her fright remained anyone’s guess. The last time Adam had seen her, she was crying quietly in her father’s arms, still trembling yet, and having a hard time verbalizing what she’d been through. Due to her young age, though, Adam thought her resiliency would kick in after some time had passed. Charlotte came from a wealthy old Boston family, not that dissimilar from Laddie’s family. Therefore, Adam knew she’d get all the love and attention she needed in the coming weeks.

Long after Edward could have gone home, he remained on the school grounds, helping Adam in any way possible. Adam would forever be grateful to the man. It was Edward who wouldn’t allow the headmaster to consider not resuming classes until next September. 

“I have a building we can convert to a temporary school. It’s only a few miles from here. Killian can bring the boys over from the dormitory each morning. We’ll find a way to get a dormitory in operation for the girls by the time they return from Christmas break.”

“But, Edward, that’s a lot to accomplish before January.”

“Yes, Adam, I suppose it is, but we shall get it done. You’ll have stable boys, groundskeepers, caretakers, and cooks, all eager to continue drawing a salary. I can’t imagine it will make much difference to them if they have to draw that salary by setting up classrooms, as opposed to doing their regular tasks, can you?”

“No, I guess I can’t. I’m sure they’ll do whatever job I ask of them, but as for pay. . .until I talk to the school board, I have no idea if the school can even be rebuilt.”

“Mark my words, it’ll be rebuilt. And you go right ahead and tell the board members I said that.”

Adam had too many other things on his mind to question what Edward meant, but an educated guess told him Laddie’s father planned to solicit donations from amongst his wealthy social circle in order to get a new school constructed.

At this point, Adam was too tired, and too worried about Joe, to think any more about the school. He’d talked to most of the board members throughout the afternoon, as they showed up one by one, drawn to the institute by the news of the fire, and bringing blankets, hats, mittens, and coats along with them that were distributed amongst the children. Adam was to meet with the board on Friday morning at Robert Sheridan’s home. There would be time enough then to discuss the school’s future.

Adam walked through the open gate, and traveled up the steps to his house. Lamps burned from all the downstairs rooms. If there was a light on upstairs in Joe’s room, Adam couldn’t see it, because that bedroom window faced the south yard.

The man opened his front door, allowing Shakespeare to walk in ahead of him. It didn’t surprise Adam when the dog headed straight for the kitchen, intent on reaching his food and water bowls.

Adam removed his smoky coat and scarf, hanging them outside over the black iron stair railing. He shut the door and stepped farther into the house. The parlor was empty and quiet, though someone had a fire burning in the fireplace. Movement from his right drew Adam’s attention to the dining room. Laddie rose from a chair.

“Adam?” She questioned, her voice hoarse and raspy.

“Yes, it’s me.”

She ran to him, laying the side of her face against his chest as he pulled her close.

“You shouldn’t,” he scolded, as he kissed the top of her head. “I smell like smoke, and you, pretty lady, look like you’ve already had a bath.”

She nodded, but wouldn’t step out of his embrace. “Mother drew one for me after I got the girls settled. I must say it was the most appreciated bath I’ve ever taken.”

Adam chuckled. “I understand the feeling.”

“At Mrs. O’Connell’s insistence, I’ve been sitting here nursing a cup of tea with lemon and honey in it for my throat, while waiting for you to get home.”

“Where’s Elliot? I didn’t see the carriage outside.”

“He went to eat supper. He’ll be back for me in a little while. Mother, Helen, and Margaret are at the house with the girls. They were all sleeping when I left. Even the older ones.”

“I surmise we have a lot of tired students who are already asleep for the night.”

“Yes, I surmise so, as well.”

Adam’s eyes wandered to the stairs. “Do you know how Joe is?”

Laddie stepped back just enough to “look” up at Adam. “Unconscious or sleeping, I’m not sure which. I don’t believe your father is certain, either.”

“Pardon?”

“Joe regained consciousness about two hours ago – shortly after I arrived. Mrs. O’Connell said that he didn’t open his eyes, and he wasn’t aware of his surroundings, but he did mumble an apology to your father regarding some accident with a horse, then threw up on his bedcovers, and then lapsed back into a state of unawareness. For as much as that alarmed your father and Hoss, it seemed to be what Hiram wanted to happen. He said Joe should wake up on his own time now, and God willing, with no serious repercussions.”

“And Hoss?”

“To quote that big “little” brother of yours, ‘I’m juz fine, Miss Laddie. Thanks fer askin’.’ Now if you want Mrs. O’Connell’s observation, Hoss is, ‘bruised, battered, and a wee bit sore, but Eric’ll be fit as a fiddle after a few good meals, he will be.’ ” 

Adam smiled with amusement. “Hoss always seems to be fit as a fiddle after a few good meals. He was lucky he wasn’t seriously injured – or even killed – with the way Joe landed on him.”

“That’s what Hiram told me. And he said Joe was lucky he did land on Hoss, otherwise he’d have very likely been killed.”

“Hoss never gave up on trying to catch him. That’s why Joe slammed into Hoss’s chest and knocked him off his feet.”

“You told me once that Hoss and Joe have always been partners in crime, in every way that phrase can be defined. I think their partnership paid off today, don’t you?”

“Very much so. I imagine Pa will probably forgive any future shenanigans on their parts for quite a while to come.”

“I imagine you’re correct.”

“Are they upstairs?”

“Your father and Hoss?”

“Uh huh,” Adam said, as he pulled the woman to his chest again, and rested one cheek on top of her head.

“Your father’s sitting with Joe. At his insistence, Hoss went to bed a little while ago.”

“And Mrs. O’Connell?”

“She’s puttering about here and there, trying to make sure everyone’s comfortable. She has your supper in the warmer.”

“I’ll eat in a few minutes. After I check on Joe.”

Laddie’s arms tightened around Adam’s waist at the mention of Joe. 

“If it hadn’t been for Joe, Charlotte and I would have perished in that fire, Adam. He wouldn’t leave me when I went back to look for Charlotte. He sent the other children out, and then came to help me.”

“I know,” Adam said softly. “Henry told me.”

“And then once we found Charlotte, Joe carried her and held my hand, leading me down the stairs. When we reached the second floor, Joe stopped. He turned and ran back up to the third floor, dragging me along behind him, even when I told him we’d be trapped up there. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, and nothing I said could stop him.” 

Adam smiled. “Sounds like my youngest brother, all right.”

“We’d have been killed if he’d listened to me and kept going down the stairs. Even though that’s what I thought we should do, he somehow knew we couldn’t get out that way.”

“He must have heard the fire getting closer,” Adam deduced, “or the smoke smelled stronger to him.”

“One of those things must have been it,” Laddie agreed. “Whatever it was, I’ll always be grateful to him. Charlotte and I wouldn’t have gotten out of there had it not been for Joe.”

“I’ll always be grateful to him, as well.” Adam kissed the woman’s forehead, and then got down on one knee.

Laddie noticed his shift in body position. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m kneeling.”

“Whatever for?”

Adam took her left hand. “This isn’t how I planned to do this, but the time seems right. . .that is, if you can forgive a man for smelling like he needs to throw his clothes away, and then soak for two hours in a bathtub.”

“I can certainly forgive you for that. But the time seems right for what?”

“For me to ask, Laddie Rose Brockington, will you marry me?”

“What?”

“Will you marry me?”

The woman backed away from Adam, bringing her hands to her mouth with surprised shock as tears flowed from her eyes.

“Ye-yes! Yes, of course, yes! Yes, I will! Oh, Adam. . .I. . .oh, I wasn’t expecting you to. . .oh my goodness. . .when? When. . . .”

“When did I decide to ask you?” Adam stood. “Or when should we get married?”

“I-I don’t know,” Laddie laughed. “Both, I guess.”

“I’ve known I wanted to marry you since the first day I met you. I just. . .well, maybe I just needed a good swift kick in the seat of the pants to get me to ask you. And today, when you were safely out of that building and standing beside your father, your only concerns being for Joe and your students, rather than how you looked, or how quickly you could get away from there, I guess you could say that’s about the time the swift kick came.”

“If I’d have known that’s what it would take, I’d have had Joe toss me out of a window months ago.”

Adam laughed as he walked forward and embraced Laddie again.

“I still have to ask your father’s permission, and buy a ring, so I suppose I’m doing things out of order.”

“Papa will say yes without a moment’s hesitation, and as for a ring – there’s plenty of time to make that purchase.”

“Not if we’re going to get married before the end of the year.”

Laddie practically shouted, “Before the end of the year?” 

“I’d like us to be married while my family’s still here. But until Joe’s back on his feet, and I can talk to Pa about how long he and Hoss might be staying, and depending on whether or not Joe has that surgery–”

Laddie brought a hand up to Adam’s lips to shush him. 

“Those are all valid concerns. There’s no need to set a date now. If you want to get married next week, we’ll do so. If you decide upon next month, we’ll do that. If it’s next summer, then so be it.”

Adam tightened his hold on his fiancé. “What I want is to get married as soon as possible. I don’t think I can wait until next summer.” 

“Then you’d better plan on asking Papa’s permission tomorrow, because once my mother hears how quickly we have to put a wedding together, she’ll have every dressmaker in Boston working overtime.”

Adam kissed the woman deeper and more ardently than he ever had before, murmuring, “I’m sure she will,” against Laddie’s lips.

When the kiss came to its natural end, Laddie laid her head against Adam’s chest and let out a little laugh.

Pretending to be offended, Adam asked, “Was that a comment on how I kiss?”

“No, dear Sir, it wasn’t a comment on your kissing at all. I like how you kiss very much, thank you. I was laughing about something Joe said right before he threw me out that window.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said I was supposed to tell you that if you didn’t ask me to marry you, he was going to ask me to marry him.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow. “Oh he did, did he?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Then I think I’d better go upstairs and wait for that little brother of mine to wake up. It sounds like I need to straighten him out on just who’s marrying who around this place.”

“It sounds like you do. But please assure him that I’ll be the best sister-in-law a man could have.”

Adam laughed. “Believe me, he already knows that.”

The ‘clop clop clop’ of horses’ hooves approaching Adam’s house indicated Elliot had arrived. Adam waited while Laddie put on her coat, scarf, and hat, then walked her out to the carriage. 

After he’d seen his fiancé safely off, Adam returned to his house with renewed energy brought on by Cupid’s arrow. He took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, and headed down the hall toward Joe’s room.

Chapter 56

Joe floated in a dream-like world where he wasn’t quite asleep, and yet, not quite awake, either. It was confusing more than it was frightening. Hop Sing suddenly had an Irish brogue, and a nurturing touch to go along with it. Heavy footsteps in and out of the room were easy to identify as Hoss’s, and the calloused hand that rested against the side of his face from time to time, and brushed his hair away from his forehead, belonged to his father. He’d heard another voice once, drifting up from the main floor, that he hadn’t been able to identify – a woman’s – a young woman with a frog in her throat from the sound of it, and then he thought he’d heard Adam talking to Pa, but how could that be? Adam lived in Boston. 

He’d tried to apologize to Pa for the trouble caused by the horse, but his tongue seemed too thick for his throat, and like the mystery woman’s, his voice was raspy and rough also. 

Stupid storm. It wasn’t the horse’s fault that the lightning frightened him, but Pa might not see it that way. He was a good horse, too. Joe didn’t want to have to get rid of him. But Joe supposed between the mess in the barn, and then the mess he’d made in the house when he’d tried to give himself medical treatment, Pa wasn’t going to take too kindly to that animal staying on the Ponderosa.

Joe moaned as he restlessly rolled his head back and forth. He moaned again when a painful lump came in contact with the pillow. How’d he get that goose egg, and why did he smell like he’d just spent an entire day burning grass off the south slope of Horseshoe Pasture? 

Wincing, Joe pushed himself to his elbows, feeling the tug of bandages wound around his forearms, and the sting of cuts beneath them. He struggled to a seated position on the bed, fighting the blankets tangled around his legs. He kicked the blankets aside and opened his eyes.

Puzzlement settled heavily over Joe’s face as he frowned and his brow furrowed. Where was he? This wasn’t his room. 

He looked up, down, and around. His bed wasn’t this big, and his curtains weren’t blue, and he for darn sure didn’t own an Oriental rug, nor did he have a gas lamp mounted on the. . . 

Joe shot off the bed. His mind was no longer muddled by thoughts of an accident with a horse that had happened over a year ago. He ran to the window and slid the curtains open. It was light out! He could see the daylight! He could see the side yard, and the black iron fence that surrounded the house, and the stone path that led to the back, and that bird bath way over in the far corner, and. . .

He raced to the dresser. Joe splayed his hands on the mirror, not able to believe he was seeing his own reflection. His face was dotted with tiny cuts, and when he lifted his hair away from his forehead, he could see the vivid colors on the lump he sported. 

It all came back to him in a rush then. The fire. Running with Laddie and Charlotte to the third floor. His wavering, cloudy vision. Throwing the woman and child down to Hoss, then trying to figure out how to jump without hurting Hoss. Before he could make his decision, it seemed like the whole world blew up. He remembered tumbling toward Hoss, and trying to turn his body so he wouldn’t land on his brother. Was Hoss all right? And Laddie and Charlotte? Were they all right? And the rest of the children? Did they get out? Was everyone safe?

Joe’s mind was processing questions faster than he could fully acknowledge them. He turned around twice, unable to believe he could see the room so clearly. Every color in the Oriental rug was bright and brilliant – the maroon, the deep blue, the pale gold, the shades of red and green, all against a black background. The quilt on his bed was the same deep blue as the curtains at the windows and the deep blue in the rug. He ran a hand across the smooth wood of the dresser – it was maple. When he was blind, he’d somehow known it was maple. He’d somehow expected it to look just like it did.

Joe stumbled toward the open door, not caring who might be in the house, and that he was in his nightshirt. He didn’t put any thought into whom he’d call for first, or what he’d say. His words came out automatically. As though the child he’d once been, that still lived on in some part of his soul, couldn’t wait to share the news with the man who’d silently grieved a son’s lost eyesight ever since the day old Charlie’s shack was blown to kingdom come. 

“Pa? Pa! Pa, I need you! Pa! Pa, I need you!”

Joe couldn’t stop the tears of joy from running down his face as he fell back against the doorframe. He tilted his head upward in way of silently saying, “Thank you,” and then yelled again, this time with a catch in his raspy voice, “Pa? Pa! Pa, I need you! I need you, Pa!” 

As both his voice and legs gave out on him, Joe slid toward the floor, not worried that he was weak, dizzy, and felt like he’d swallowed a smoking chimney. He could see! He could see, and the first person he wanted to tell that to was his father.

Chapter 57

At Joe’s first call from above, three chairs flew backwards from the dining room table. Mrs. O’Connell was just entering with a platter in her hands.

Adam glared at the woman. “You said you’d sit with Joe while we ate.”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Cartwright. I came down fer just a wee bit of a minute to see if Eric needed more eggs.”

“Eric can get his own eggs,” Adam growled, throwing his napkin onto the table and following his father and Hoss up the stairs at a run.

~ ~ ~

Under other circumstances, Joe would have found the sight funny – his father, Hoss, and Adam, scrambling up the stairs, and then barreling down the hall at full speed as if he’d just hollered, “There’s gold in these here hills!” Although figuratively speaking, he sure felt like he’d struck gold. All the gold in the world and then some.

Pa was the first to reach him. He knelt down, placing a hand on the side of Joe’s face.

“Joe? Joseph, it’s Pa. Are you all right? Here, let Hoss and me help you back to bed, then we’ll have a look at you and–”

Joe grabbed the hand and squeezed it. “Pa. . .Pa, I know it’s you.”

Pa smiled. “Well now, that’s good to hear. Dr. Nichols said you might be confused for a while after you woke up. You’ve got quite a bump on your fore–”

“Pa. . .Pa, listen to me for a minute,” Joe said in a raspy voice he barely recognized. “I know it’s you, because I can see you. I can see you, Pa.”

Pa’s smiled wilted. By the doubt radiating from the brown eyes, Joe knew his father thought the bump on his head was making him delusional.

“Well. . .uh. . .young fella’, why don’t Hoss and I get you back in that bed.” Pa turned to Adam, saying softly, “You’d better get Dr. Nichols. I think the concussion is causing–”

Joe put his hands on his father’s arms, drawing Pa’s attention back to him.

“Pa, I can hear just as well as I can see. Adam doesn’t need to get Dr. Nichols. I know exactly what I’m saying. I can see! You’re wearing the tan shirt I gave you last Christmas.” Joe’s eyes traveled up to Hoss. “And Hoss has the ugly green one on that Miss Lucy says makes him look handsome, which always makes Hoss blush, just like he’s doin’ now.” Joe looked beyond Hoss to Adam. “And Adam. . . well, Adam just plain looks like he hasn’t taken a bath in a year.”

Pa’s hands cupped Joe’s face.

“You can see? You can really see?”

Joe nodded, moisture coming to his eyes again as tears filled his father’s. “I can see.”

“As. . .as good as before, Joe? Clear?”

“As good as before,” Joe confirmed. “Clear. Real clear, Pa.”

Pa seemed to forget about his son’s bumps, bruises, and cuts. He pulled his youngest to him, cradling Joe’s head against his chest.

“You can see again,” he murmured, running a hand up and down Joe’s back. “You can really see again.”

“Yeah, Pa,” Joe whispered, “I can really see again.”

For a time that morning, the world seemed to hold only a father and his youngest child, both silently rejoicing together over what the father deemed a miracle, and the son was simply more thankful for than he’d ever be able to express.

Chapter 58

Joe wasn’t sure how long he sat on the floor enveloped in his father’s arms. When Pa finally released him, Hoss helped both of them to their feet. Joe was barely steady before Hoss gave him a bear hug, and said in a husky voice, “Always knew ya’d somehow come out a winner in all this, little brother.”

When Joe was released, he playfully punched the big man’s shoulder. “Sure ya’ did, ya’ big lug.”

Joe felt Adam’s congratulatory pat on the back next. He turned around and grinned at his oldest brother.

“Like I said, you sure do need a bath, Adam, but still, as the expression goes, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“When you get a chance to do more than admire your pretty face in the mirror, you might realize you need a bath just as badly as I do.” Adam smiled and held out his arm. “Come here, you.”

Another brotherly hug took place, then Adam stepped back and gave Joe a mock glower.

“So, I hear you were planning to propose to my fiancé.”

“Well, if you don’t get around to doing it soon, I figure someone has to make Laddie a member of this fam. . .” Joe paused, his eyebrows drawing together as he cocked his head. “Did you say fiancé?”

“I sure did.”

“You mean. . .does that mean. . .did you. . .you asked her? You finally asked Laddie to marry you?”

“Yes, I finally asked Laddie to marry me.”

Joe pretended to be shocked. “And she said yes?” 

“Why you little. . .of course she said yes.”

Joe wasn’t certain who let out the loudest, ear shattering “Yee haw!” – himself, or Hoss. This news brought about another round of hugs and pats on the back, though Pa summed it up best when he put one arm around Joe’s shoulder’s, and the other around Adam’s, and said with a big smile, “It looks to me like the Cartwrights have a lot to celebrate.”

Hoss agreed. “I reckon we do, Pa.”

After all the good news sank in and everyone calmed down, Joe found himself back in bed at his father’s insistence, and Adam, after apologizing to Mrs. O’Connell for being sharp with her downstairs, was off for a long, hot soak in the bathtub, courtesy of the housekeeper who had run the water for him.

To further assuage Mrs. O’Connell’s feelings, Hoss went downstairs for a second helping of breakfast, thereby insuring Adam would retain the services of, “The best durn cook in all a’ Boston,” as Hoss phrased it. 

While Joe waited for Adam’s housekeeper to bring his breakfast up on a tray, he scooted over, making room for his father to sit on the side of the bed. He took the man’s hand in a firm grip and smiled.

“I can still smell the Bay Rum cologne and pipe tobacco, but this time, no worry.”

Pa smiled in return. “No, Joe, no worry. No worries at all. Though many years of experience when it comes to having Joseph Cartwright as my son, tells me I’d better enjoy those “no worries” to the fullest, for the short period of time they’ll actually last.”

Joe laughed. “Yeah, Pa, I guess you’d better.”

Pa sobered as he looked into the eyes that looked back at him now, and not at some point over his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, son. I’m so happy for you.”

Joe squeezed his father’s hand. In every line on the man’s face, he saw what a toll his blindness had taken on Pa. When he spoke, he said simply, “Thank you for being my father,” because those six words conveyed Joe’s understanding of how much Pa had suffered right along with him each time he’d tumbled down stairs, walked into furniture, and lashed out in bitterness and anger because he could no longer see.

Pa couldn’t seem to do more than nod at Joe’s words. Joe smiled, adding, “And thank you for not trying to change my mind when I decided to come to Boston with Adam.”

“It was a good choice for you, then?”

“The best choice.”

“And now?”

Joe sat in silence a long time, thinking about the boys in his class, the opportunity Adam had given him, and the teaching career he’d never thought he’d excel at, let alone enjoy. Nonetheless, when Joe’s answer came, he had no doubt it was the right decision for him. 

“And now, the best choice is for me to go back to the Ponderosa. But not right away, Pa. I’ve gotta stay here and help Adam in any way I can. Even teach until the end of the school term if he needs me to, but as soon as possible, I’ll be coming home.”

Pa smiled. “I think Hoss and I’ll be staying a while to help Adam, too. And as far as when you return home, remember what I said on the day you told me you were leaving?”

“You said a lot of things.”

Pa chuckled. “Yes, I guess I did. The one in particular I’m thinking of, however, was when I told you there’d always be a place for you on the Ponderosa.”

Joe studied his father a moment, seeing sincerity, desire, and the hope that his youngest son would return to the ranch he’d been born on. 

“I never doubted it for a minute, Pa,” Joe said. “I never doubted it for a minute.”

And with that confirmation, Pa squeezed Joe’s hand in return, then stood and moved out of the way as Mrs. O’Connell arrived with a breakfast tray.

As Joe ate with Pa sitting in a chair beside his bed, he decided that if his sight was granted for this one day only, then he’d seen all he needed to for the rest of his life – the smile on his father’s face that never quite faded.

Chapter 59

The house was quiet late that afternoon when Joe eased himself into a steaming tub of water with a sigh of pleasure. Mrs. O’Connell had added a concoction of some sort that made the surface of the water team with bubbles that smelled like Adam’s flower gardens in full bloom. Joe wasn’t sure a rose scented bubble bath was exactly his style. God knew it would get him laughed right off the Ponderosa by Candy and the other hands, but he couldn’t deny that the hot water felt good against his cuts and bruises, and that the smell of roses saturating his skin was preferable to the smell of smoke and stale perspiration.

Joe washed his body, gingerly running the washcloth over the arms he’d unbandaged before climbing in the tub. He washed his hair next, then slid all the way under the water to rinse it off. He’d have to rinse it again at the sink after he got out of the tub to get rid of the remaining soap, but at least the smoky smell that had been clinging to it was finally gone. Mrs. O’Connell was changing the sheets on his bed while he bathed, and that morning he’d asked Pa to throw out the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday, so maybe the overpowering odor of smoke that seemed to follow him everywhere would now finally be gone.

The water was almost hotter than Joe could stand, but not quite. The temperature would allow for a long soak before he either had to add more hot water, or get out of the tub. He leaned his head back against the massive tub and closed his eyes. His arms were just barely above the surface of the water, as he hung onto the tub’s sides so he didn’t slip beneath the surface. 

Joe’s mind drifted back to the fire yesterday. He’d gotten his most important questions answered by Pa while he ate breakfast that morning. Charlotte and Laddie were fine, other than poor little Charlotte being frightened out of her wits. At least she was now at home with her parents. 

Joe’s boys and Laddie’s girls had gotten safely out of the school, thanks to Shakespeare and Henry. All of the other students, teachers, and staff members also managed to escape unharmed. Pa said the students were now boarding with various staff members, and parents were being notified of the fire by telegram and asked to make arrangements to get their child home as soon as possible. There wasn’t much left of the building, and whether classes would resume after Christmas, Pa wasn’t sure. He’d said something about Mr. Brockington volunteering a building he owned for use as a temporary school, but by then, Joe had finished eating and was drifting off to sleep, so if Pa had given him any further information in that regard, Joe hadn’t heard it.

When Joe woke up again, it was mid-afternoon. His father and Adam were sleeping in their rooms, and Mrs. O’Connell said Hoss, or Eric rather, had gone to the school to help the caretakers and groundskeepers salvage whatever they could from the ruins. Mrs. O’Connell couldn’t have kept Joe in bed if she tried – and she did, but Joe was feeling well-rested and secure on his feet, so he sat at the kitchen table in his nightshirt, robe, and slippers, eating the sandwich she made for him, then he returned upstairs to fetch clean clothes from his room and enjoy this soak in the bathtub.

The hot, sweet smelling water had just lulled Joe into a light doze, when someone knocked on the bathroom door. He opened his eyes and turned his face sideways so his voice would carry.

“I’m in here, Hoss, and I ain’t plannin’ on comin’ out any time soon, so you’re just gonna have to wait your turn.”

As Joe knew would be the case, Hoss had more than a passing affection for Adam’s modern water closet, and spent hours soaking in the tub whenever he got the chance. Joe assumed he’d come back from the school and wanted to wash off the soot and grime he’d undoubtedly picked up during the course of his work.

“It’s not Hoss, Joe. May I come in?”

“Adam, I’m in the tub!”

Adam didn’t wait for permission that wouldn’t be forthcoming anyway. He opened the door, entered the room carrying a chair, and then closed the door behind him.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a smile to the scowling Joe, “it’s not like I haven’t seen your naked behind before. As a matter of fact, I changed more of your diapers than I care to remember.”

“Then do us both a favor and don’t – remember, that is.” Joe eyed the chair as Adam placed it by the side of the tub and then sat down. “You plannin’ on staying a while?”

“Just until you’re done in here.”

“Adam. . .”

“Joe, you suffered a concussion barely twenty-four hours ago. Therefore, you have no business being in a tub of water up to your chin without someone in here with you.” Adam smiled impishly. “Besides, you look kind of cute in the midst of all those bubbles.”

Joe scowled again. “The bubbles weren’t my idea.”

“Maybe not, but you sure are going to smell pretty when you’re done.”

“You say anything about this to Hoss, and I swear I’ll drown you in this tub. Then we’ll see who smells pretty.”

“I’d take that under consideration, except I know something you don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Hoss loves taking these bubble baths of Mrs. O’Connell’s.”

“Hoss? He’s the reason I keep smelling lilacs, roses, and lilies, every time we all sit down together at the dinner table?”

“Yep. He’s the reason.”

Joe laughed. “Oh, this is the kind of information I’d pay to have.”

“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have offered it free of charge.”

“Too late now, big brother.”

“Apparently so.” Adam studied his sibling. “You feeling all right?”

“I’m feeling fine.”

“No dizziness?”

“None.”

“No headache?”

“Not any more.”

“And your sight?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, either.”

“Glad to hear it, though Pa’s still going to make you see Dr. Warren for a checkup.”

“Yeah, he said something about that this morning. I tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but I have a feeling that’s a battle I’m not gonna win.”

“I know it’s a battle you’re not going to win, so you might as well concede defeat gracefully.”

“I never concede defeat gracefully.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

“Speaking of Pa, is he still asleep?”

Adam nodded. “He was exhausted. He didn’t get any sleep last night. I’d venture to guess we won’t see him much before supper time.”

“Good. He needs his rest.”

“Yes, he does.”

“He told me that everyone got out safely yesterday.”

“They did,” Adam confirmed. 

“What’s left of the building?”

“Not much. The boy’s dorm is still standing. Other than that, just a couple of walls here and there.”

“I’m sorry, Adam.”

Adam shrugged. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Besides, the important thing is that everyone got out. If it hadn’t been for you, Laddie and Charlotte–”

“Laddie would have found a way out.”

“She says she wouldn’t have.”

“That’s what she thinks now, but yesterday, if she’d been on her own with Charlotte, she’d have figured out how to get both of them to safety.”

“I think you’re being far too modest about the role you played in that regard.”

“And I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“How so?”

Joe told Adam then, about how his eyesight had returned during the fire. How he saw shadowy, grainy images, and how even that distorted vision was better than no vision at all.

“Vision or no vision, Joe, the fact remains that your quick thinking saved Laddie and Charlotte’s lives. Not to mention your own. And then you and Hoss. . .well, let’s just say I won’t ever again chide the two of you over whatever cockamamie schemes you dream up.”

“Hearing you say that almost makes jumping out a window worth it.” Joe gazed up at the ceiling, wiggling his toes and enjoying the hot water gently lapping at his body. “Do you know what caused the fire?”

“We think it was a surge in a gas line. Some of the cooks said flames suddenly started shooting from two ovens. They tried to get the situation under control, but couldn’t. If there’s any blame to be had at all, it’s that they attempted to fight the fire too long, rather than making the evacuation of the building their first priority.”

Joe turned his head so he could look at his brother. “I’m sure they meant well.”

“I’m sure they did too, which is why they’ll still have jobs with me if the school is rebuilt.”

“You don’t think it will be?”

“Let’s put it this way, Edward says it will be. As for me, I’ll take it one day at a time for a while. The first step will be setting up a temporary school for the children to return to in January.”

“Pa mentioned something about that. He said Mr. Brockington has a building we can use?”

Adam nodded. “I’m going to take a look at it tomorrow.”

“Want some company?”

“Sure, if you think you’ll be feeling up to it.”

“I’ll be feeling up to it.”

“Does this mean you’re going to stay?”

“For a while,” Joe said. “If school resumes in January, then I’ll stay until summer vacation if you want me to. I think you’ll have enough on your plate without worrying about trying to hire a new teacher.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Besides, I don’t wanna abandon my boys in the middle of the year.”

“You’ve grown quite fond of “your boys,” haven’t you?”

Joe smiled. “Yeah, despite all they put me through, I guess I have.”

“Now you know how Pa’s felt for the last forty-two years.”

Joe chuckled. “I do at that.”

“And after the school term ends?” Adam questioned.

“I’ll. . .I’m not gonna make you false promises, Adam. After the term ends, I’ll be heading home to the Ponderosa.”

“For good?”

“For good.”

“I thought as much.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful. You’ve done more for me these last few months than I can ever repay. It’s just that–”

“It’s just that now that you have your eyesight back, you’ll be happiest on the ranch,” Adam said with understanding. “It’s where you belong.”

“Yeah,” Joe nodded. “It’s where I belong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Joe.”

“No hard feelings then?”

“None at all.”

Joe thought a moment before asking, “Adam, if you still had your arm, would the Ponderosa be where you belonged?”

“I. . .you know, I’m not really sure. Before the accident, I was happy here in Boston running my grandfather’s business. Very happy. That doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you, and Hoss, and Pa, but I think I would have gone on running the business for many years to come, however. . .well, let’s just say that’s not the hand life dealt me.” 

“What hand did life deal you?”

The familiar wariness came to Adam’s voice. The same wariness that was always present when Joe probed about this subject. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. How did you lose your arm?”

“It was an accident.”

“Well I didn’t exactly think you did it on purpose.”

For a few seconds, Joe thought he’d made his brother angry, but then Adam’s scowl changed to a smile, and then he started laughing.

“You’re right. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“If. . .I just want you to know, that if there was any way I could give you that arm back, I would.”

“Don’t feel guilty about my arm just because your eyesight returned. I’m not jealous, Joe, and I’m not asking God why, either. I’m happy for you. I really am.”

“I know, but still–”

Adam held up his hand. “Enough. I don’t want you regretting things neither one of us can change. Besides, do you want to hear my story or not?”

“You’re finally gonna tell me?”

“I’ll. . .I’ll tell you, but when I’m done, I don’t plan to speak of it again. I’ve put it behind me as much as I can. Reminders. . .well, reminders aren’t something I need, or appreciate.”

“I understand.”

“I know you do,” Adam said, in way of voicing his trust in his brother’s word. 

Silence filled the room for a good thirty seconds before Adam spoke again.

“Do you remember old Gabe?”

“Gabe Meyers?”

“Yes.” 

“Sure I remember him. Pa was in a bad way for a while after Gabe died.”

“And do you remember what was going on before Gabe’s death?”

“Yeah. A lot of hard work, long hours, and Pa was as grumpy as a grizzly bear who’d gotten woken up in the middle of his winter nap, all because of that timber contract with the railroad.”

“Exactly. And I should have learned something from that experience, but I didn’t.”

“Whatta ya’ mean?”

“I pushed too hard, Joe. We were backed up with cargo that we had to get out of our storerooms. We had a ship out at sea somewhere, delayed in returning to port by a storm, another was on its way to South America, and another was docked for repairs. The only ship available to us needed an overhaul, too. I don’t know, maybe I wouldn’t have been so foolish as to set sail on her, if my grandfather hadn’t been determined to do just that. Not that I’m blaming him, mind you. I could have vetoed his decision. He’d given me that kind of authority by then. He was retired more or less.” Adam gave a sad smile. “Or as retired as Abel Stoddard would ever agree to be. But the trouble with my grandfather, and with me, as well, is that we’re men who put a high value on our reputations.”

“That’s not a bad way to be.”

“You’re right. Usually it’s not. But when you let concern for your reputation overrule your common sense, things can go from bad to worse in a short period of time. Or so I discovered. We had a deadline on our cargo, and both Grandfather and I were going to meet that deadline come hell or high water. In the end, we encountered a good deal of both those things. You’ve heard the expression, ‘Red sky at night, sailors’ delight, red sky in morning, sailors take warning’?”

“I’ve heard it,” Joe confirmed.

“Well, it’s true. Or at least more often than not, it is. I should have heeded that expression, Joe, instead of giving the order to set sail that day. I knew then that I should have heeded it, but a part of me – the part that said I wasn’t a superstitious man, but rather a businessman, ignored the inner voice that told me we were asking for trouble by setting sail on a ship that should have remained docked. Grandfather insisted on coming along to help. We left port with thirty men that morning. When I woke up ten days later, half those men had drowned at sea, including my grandfather, and my arm had been amputated.”

“A storm?” Joe asked.

Adam nodded. “A storm. Though not just any storm. The ‘mother of all storms,’ Grandfather called it. And with a grin on his face, too, I might add. Pa said my grandfather died doing what he wanted to, and I should never harbor regrets about that. Maybe I shouldn’t, because I know Pa’s right. Abel Stoddard’s one true love was the sea. But fourteen other men died, too. Many of them with wives and children. That’s part of the reason I sold Stoddard Shipping as soon as I was back on my feet – so I could give those widows financial compensation for a lifetime of lost wages.” 

“That was generous of you.”

“When a man feels responsible for the deaths of others, he can’t be generous enough.”

“No,” Joe said quietly, “I don’t suppose he can.” Joe’s eyes traveled to Adam’s empty shirtsleeve. “And your arm?”

“When the storm caused the ship to capsize, my arm got tangled in the lines of a sail. What kept me from drowning – the buoyancy of the mast – also cut off the circulation to the arm. I took a pretty hard knock on the head, too. I was in and out of consciousness for most of my time in the water. Three days after we capsized, another ship came along, rescued those of us who were still alive, and brought us back here to Boston. I was too out of it by then from a combination of gangrene in the arm, sunburn, a concussion, and dehydration, to know what was going on. Which was why I told you that I never had to make a decision about whether or not to have my arm amputated. And even if I’d been capable of making that decision, the outcome would have been the same. The arm had to go, or I would have died.” 

“Not an easy thing to wake up to.”

“Believe me, there was nothing about that time in my life that was easy to wake up to.”

“I’m sure there wasn’t.”

When a minute passed and his brother offered no more, Joe said, “Thanks for telling me, Adam. I’m sorry if I brought up painful memories.”

“Not as painful as they once were. When Pa came to visit me while I was recuperating, he told me I had to learn to accept what happened and put it behind me. I didn’t think that would ever be possible, but time has proven me wrong. I’ll never forget that day, Joe, and I’ll never completely absolve myself of the guilt I feel is mine to bear, but I have learned how to move on with my life.”

“In a way you have every right to be proud of.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So see, Joe, I’m not “Perfect Adam.” I make mistakes just like any other man. I have regrets, I have experiences in my past that I wish I had the opportunity to live over again and rectify, I–”

“Adam, I’m sorry. I never should have said that.”

“You said it because there were a lot of things I’d kept from you that I shouldn’t have. You didn’t know what I’d been through.”

“No, I said it because I was bitter, and angry, and jealous, and probably a hundred other things I can’t remember right now. I took a lot of stuff out on you that I shouldn’t have at a time when you were only trying to help me.”

Adam smiled. “I’ve taken things out on you a time or two over the years that I shouldn’t have, so how about if we call it even.”

“I suppose we could do that.”

“Glad you agree.”

After some time passed with no further conversation ensuing, Joe broke the silence.

“I know I never told you that I was sorry about what happened between you and Laura Dayton, but I should have. When you left. . .well, the decision seemed so sudden, and you wouldn’t talk to Hoss and me about it, and while Hoss–”

“Has a forgiving heart,” Adam teased, “you hold a grudge.”

“Can’t deny that. I held onto that grudge until about five minutes after you left on the stage, then I was kicking myself for my stubbornness, and wishing I’d told you all the things I’d wanted to.”

“I think I knew that all along, little brother. And though this information comes six years too late, it’s not just because of Laura Dayton that I went to sea.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s not. I went to sea to find Pa in myself.”

“What?”

“I had to prove something to myself, Joe.”

“Prove what?”

“That I’m my father’s son.”

“Now that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Of course you’re your father’s son. You’re the one who’s the most like Pa.”

Adam’s laughter confused Joe, and continued to confuse him the longer it lasted.

“Look, Adam, I’m the one with the head injury here, not you. If you don’t quit laughing like that, I’m gonna start worryin’ that you swallowed too much smoke yesterday.”

“No need to worry about that,” Adam said as his laughter finally calmed. 

“Then what in tarnation is so all-blamed funny?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Sometimes you just can’t see the forest for the trees, little brother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Joe, you’re the one who’s the most like Pa. Always have been.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Ask Hoss if you don’t believe me. He thinks so too.”

“He does?”

“Yes, he does.”

“I don’t know,” Joe shook his head. “I’ve never thought that myself.”

“That’s because Pa spent so much time over the years telling each one of us how much we’re like our mothers, that he tended to forget to tell us in what ways we’re each like him. Therefore, allow me to tell you that half the reason Pa often “spared the rod and spoiled the child” when it came to you, is because most of the mischief you got into was the same exact mischief he got into as a boy.”

“How do you know?” 

“Because while you were out making that mischief, Pa was telling me stories about himself as a kid. And the next time he says to you, “Joseph, mark my words, someday I hope you have one just like you,” rest assured that Pa grew up hearing, “Benjamin, mark my words, someday I hope you have one just like you,” and take comfort in the fact that Grandpa Cartwright has probably spent the last thirty years looking down from heaven, laughing so hard that he can no longer stand upright.”

It was strange for Joe to hear Adam say that both he and Hoss thought Joe was the one amongst them who was most like their father. All of his life, he’d been told he looked like his mother, and that he possessed a good number of her personality traits as well. But somewhere along the line, more and more of the man who raised him was evidently seeping into his soul. And there was no doubt who Joe inherited his prematurely graying hair from, and the wider, powerful build to his chest and shoulders that had developed in more recent years. 

“Sure hope I don’t inherit Pa’s belly as I get older,” Joe mumbled, which made Adam laugh again.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. You’re too “high spirited,” as your mother used to say, for you to ever slow down enough to gain weight around your middle.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m happy to go on lettin’ Hoss be the Cartwright brother with the weight around the middle.”

“Me too.” 

“Adam, can I ask you one more question?”

“Sure.”

“When you went searching for Pa in yourself, did you ever find him?”

Adam nodded. “I did.”

“I’m glad you realize that, because if you didn’t, I was gonna tell you that doing what you did for the widows of those sailors is exactly what Pa would have done.”

“That’s probably when I realized it myself, Joe.” Adam stood. “Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Will you be my best man at my wedding?”

“What about Hoss?”

“I already asked him the same question.”

“And he said no?”

“No, dummy, he said yes. I have two brothers, so as far I’m concerned, I can have two best men. So what do you say?”

Joe grinned. “I say yes.”

“Good, then it’s all settled. I’ve asked Pa to read one of Shakespeare’s sonnets during the ceremony. And don’t roll your eyes.” 

“Now? Or when Pa’s doing the reading?”

“Both.” 

“Boy, Adam, you sure know how to ruin all my fun. So, when are you two getting married?”

“We haven’t set a date yet, but we’ll be doing that soon. We want to be married before Pa and Hoss return home.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a lotta work ahead of you, brother.”

“I imagine I do, though not as much as the bride, I’m sure.” Adam grabbed the towel Joe had placed on the sink. “Now come on, get out of that tub while I’m still in here, and before you start smelling like a five acre rose garden on the verge of blooming.”

Joe climbed from the tub, snatching the towel as soon as he was on his feet and wrapping it around his waist, much to Adam’s amusement. Joe was sure Adam would make some smart remark about having seen his bare behind numerous times before, but thankfully, Adam kept his jokes to himself.

Joe rinsed the remainder of the soap from his hair at the sink, dried it with another towel Adam handed him, and then got dressed.

As Joe and his brother exited the bathroom, Adam with a solicitous hand on Joe’s back, as though he expected the man to topple down the stairs at any moment, Joe looked at his sibling and smiled.

“In case you still have any doubts, you’ve got a lot more of Pa in you than you might think.”

If Adam had anything to say to that, he didn’t get the chance. Mrs. O’Connell was just letting Laddie in the front door. When Joe spotted her, he bounded down the stairs, picked her up, twirled her around, kissed her cheek, and welcomed her to the family. His enthusiasm woke Pa, but as Adam could have predicted, Pa’s admonishments weren’t very harsh, because after all, the apple hadn’t fallen too far from the tree.

Chapter 60

When school resumed in mid-January at the Boston Institute for the Blind, numerous changes greeted the children. Their familiar building was gone, of course, replaced temporarily by a building several miles down the road from the school’s grounds. The boys’ dormitory had been aired out and scrubbed from top to bottom, which allowed the boys to be housed there once again. Edward Brockington had found a rambling, vacant house to serve as the girls’ dormitory. Mr. Brockington was paying the monthly rent on the house, and wouldn’t entertain the notion of it being handled any other way, even when Adam tried his best to split half the cost with him.

Elias Cross didn’t return to school after Christmas break. Rumor had it that his own father dismissed him for the way he’d left Joe and Laddie to fend for themselves and their students on the day of the fire. Adam wouldn’t confirm or deny that rumor for Joe, but the grin he sported told Joe that Cross’s father had indeed, released him of his teaching duties. For the time being, the man’s students were divided up amongst other teachers. Before the new school year started again in September, Adam would have to hire someone to replace Cross.

Charlotte was present in Laddie’s class that first day of school in January, but not before her parents had stopped in Joe’s classroom to thank him for saving her life. The little girl seemed fine to Joe. A bit shy and reserved when her parents made her say, “Thank you, Mr. Cartwright, for saving me,” but prior to the fire he hadn’t known the child, so her quiet demeanor didn’t surprise him. He was glad to see she’d returned. He thought being back in school with her friends would prove to be the best thing for Charlotte over time.

At his father’s insistence, Joe had seen Dr. Warren and Dr. Nichols before the winter school term resumed. He’d been given a clean bill of health by both of the men. Dr. Warren had no explanation for the return of Joe’s eyesight, other than to mention the same things he had the last time Joe visited him. Perhaps a blood clot had dissolved, or inflammation of the optic nerves was no longer a factor. Or perhaps there were numerous other reasons his eyesight had returned, that medical science didn’t have the knowledge to understand yet. Or, perhaps too, it was nothing other than a miracle. Dr. Warren smiled at that point and told Joe he could take his pick. Joe didn’t attempt to pick anything. He was just thankful his vision was normal, and the headaches were gone. Pa seemed to feel the same way, because he didn’t press the doctor for further explanations, either. If Joe knew his father, Ben Cartwright was putting this under the “miracle” category. Joe wasn’t sure he’d ever believe that, but then, Pa put considerably more stock in his religious faith than Joe put in his own.

When Adam and Laddie set a wedding date of New Year’s Eve, Pa set New Year’s Day as the date he and Hoss would leave Boston on the first leg of their journey to Nevada. In the meantime, they pitched in at the temporary school, helping to set up classrooms with desks, books, shelves, and supplies. Joe had fun working alongside them again. It made him even more eager for June to arrive, when he, too, would return to the Ponderosa. 

Some of the children giggled over the thought of a “Mrs. Cartwright,” now teaching at their school, along with a Headmaster Cartwright, and a Mr. Cartwright. Joe supposed all those Cartwrights were a bit confusing at times, and yes, he had to admit, it was as funny as the teenagers in his classroom found it to be, whenever someone mistakenly assumed Laddie was married to him, rather than to Adam.

But on the afternoon of the actual ceremony, there hadn’t been any giggling going on. There’d been a lot of crying, from what Joe could see as he stood between the groom and Hoss, looking out at the guests who filled the pews at the First Presbyterian Church, though the tears were happy ones. Despite the short period of time for the planning of the wedding, the ceremony went off without a hitch, and the reception afterwards at the Brockington estate was a lavish one. All of Laddie’s sisters stood as her attendants, while Hoss and Joe stood with Adam, and Pa read the love sonnet Adam dedicated to his bride. Joe thought he and Hoss did a good job of keeping straight faces throughout the reading. Joe silently repeated to himself, “Just don’t look at Hoss. Just don’t look at Hoss. Don’t look at him, and you won’t laugh.” Likewise, Joe suspected Hoss was saying much the same thing – “Just don’t look at Joe. Just don’t look at him,” as the sonnet filled with twisted English no normal man could ever hope to understand, went on and on, seeming never to end. 

Mrs. O’Connell wailed loudly at the close of the ceremony, then hurried over to the Brockingtons’ to help in any way she could, not trusting the cooks there to have the wedding feast prepared in the fashion she deemed it should be.

Later that evening, the couple departed on a weeklong honeymoon in New York City. Joe, Hoss, and the Brockington grandsons decorated the carriage driven by Elliot that took Laddie and Adam to the train station.

Before the couple climbed in the carriage, Pa took the first turn at kissing the bride, then at hugging Adam. Hoss was the next one in the Cartwright family to give the bride and groom final congratulations, followed by Joe. After Joe kissed the bride, he teased, “I’m glad he got around to asking you sooner, rather than later.”

“Me too, or I might be Mrs. Joseph Cartwright by now,” Laddie teased in return, “instead of Mrs. Adam Cartwright.”

“You can bet money on that.”

Joe turned to Adam, giving him a hug. “You’re a lucky man, Adam. You’ve got yourself a beautiful bride, and a wonderful woman to boot.”

“Thank you.”

As the brothers parted, Joe said, “When you get back, I’ll be gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone? I thought you were staying until June.”

“I am. I mean gone from your house. I found a room to rent.”

“What for?”

“Adam,” Joe said softly, so as not to be overheard by the large crowd gathered on the Brockingtons’ front lawn, “if I have to explain that to you, then you’ve got a lot to learn on this honeymoon.”

“Wha–oh, that.” 

“Yeah, that. You and Laddie need your privacy.”

“Joe, when we want privacy, I’ll tell you to get lost. In the meantime, cancel whatever arrangements you’ve made to rent a room.”

“Adam–”

“I’ve already discussed this with Laddie. She’s in complete agreement with me. You’re staying at our house until June. We won’t have it any other way.”

“By June, you might feel differently.”

“Well, if I do, you’ll be going home then anyway, so it won’t matter, will it?”

Adam ended the discussion there. He climbed in the carriage and told Elliot they were ready to leave. Rice and good wishes showered the couple as the carriage pulled away. The next day, after seeing his father and Hoss off on the train, Joe did as Adam had told him to, and canceled the arrangements he’d made to rent a room in a boarding house a block from the temporary school.

Adam and Laddie returned from their honeymoon looking happy and well rested. School started the following week. There never was a time when Adam told Joe to “get lost,” but maybe that’s because Joe made sure the newly married couple had plenty of time alone. On some days he stayed later at the school, and he spent numerous Saturdays doing things with the boys in his class, and even escorted several of Boston’s eligible young women around the city. Because he wasn’t going to make Boston his home, Joe didn’t allow himself to grow serious about any of the women, but he wouldn’t deny he’d missed the enjoyment of a lady’s company – in the many ways a man might define that – during the past six months.

Despite three adults living in the same house, two of them newlyweds, things went smoothly on the home front that winter and spring. When Adam and Joe had occasion to exchange heated words, Laddie always managed to tactfully put an end to their disagreement, while allowing both men to retain their pride.

The end of May seemed to arrive all too quickly that year. Thanks to funding from the state of Massachusetts, wealthy men like Edward Brockington, wealthy alumni of the institute, and donations, the new school was under construction on the exact spot where the old school had stood. If things went as planned, it would be ready for the students upon their return in September. If progress were delayed for some reason, the children would return to the temporary school until their new one was ready for them. 

The last day of school found the students having a picnic on the Brockington estate. One of the wonders that had come with the return of Joe’s eyesight was the ability to see all of the things he’d only been able to imagine, based on descriptions given to him. The Brockingtons’ Victorian mansion was just as sprawling and luxurious as he’d pictured it to be, right up to the peaks of its two, fourth story turrets, and the large verandas that spanned the front and back of the house. Joe had even played golf with Edward a few times that spring, when he’d wanted to give Adam and Laddie some privacy. He found himself to be fairly skilled at the game now that he could actually see where he was hitting the ball. It might have even grown to become the kind of “gentleman’s game” Joe would have enjoyed had he planned to be a Boston businessman, instead of a Nevada rancher.

Joe hadn’t been sure of how to tell the boys in his class that his eyesight had returned, or if he even should tell them. But both Laddie and Adam thought he should give them that news within a day or two of the winter term resuming, so he took their advice. All the boys expressed their happiness for him. None of them appeared to be jealous, except for Caleb. Although it wasn’t really jealousy Joe sensed from the boy, as much as he sensed sadness. The first few times Joe tried to discuss it with Caleb, the boy had turned away and said woodenly, “I’m happy for you, Mr. Cartwright. I really am.” But finally on one snowy February Saturday when Joe had taken the boys sledding, he got the chance to talk to Caleb alone. They were standing together by the fire Joe had built so the boys could warm theirs hands and feet when they needed to.

As Joe warmed his own hands over the flames, he said, “It must not have been easy for you to hear that I got my eyesight back.”

Caleb shrugged. “I told you I was happy for you.”

“I know. And I’m sure you are. But if I were you, I’d be a little sad too, because I’d want it to be me who could see again.”

That seemed to be what Caleb needed – permission to admit that he wanted the same miracle Joe had gotten. He buried his face in Joe’s coat and cried for the eyesight he wanted so badly, but would never have again. After that, little by little and day by day, Joe watched Caleb come to better terms with his lost vision, and watched too, as the boy who had arrived at the institute as a ten year old, turned eleven, and in so doing, seemed to leave the child behind, while making way for the young man he’d eventually grow to be.

Now, on this last day they were to have together as teacher and student, Caleb sought Joe out while his fellow schoolmates played games and ate ice cream. They walked together across the grounds of the Brockington home in a direction that took them away from the other students and teachers.

“I wish you weren’t leaving, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t leaving either, Caleb.”

“I want you to be my teacher again next year.”

Joe smiled. “Even if I did come back next year, I wouldn’t be your teacher, son. I’d be teaching the new boys who are coming into the school for the first time.”

“Then I’d just be a new boy again.”

Joe laughed as he placed a hand on top of Caleb’s blond head. “You’re got it all figured out, is that it?”

“No. ‘Cause if I had it all figured out, you wouldn’t be goin’ back to Nevada.”

“Things changed, Caleb. That’s why I have to return to my home.”

“Because you got your eyesight back?”

“Yes.”

“So that means you don’t wanna be with us blind kids any more?” 

“No, that’s not what it means. It doesn’t mean that at all. It just means that my place is on the ranch I help my brother and father run.” 

“Is your father making you go back there?”

“No, he’s not. It’s my choice.”

“Oh. I. . .well, I guess if I got my sight back, I’d wanna live on my pa’s farm too.”

“So you kind of understand then?”

“Yeah,” the boy sighed. “I reckon I do.”

“Caleb, listen to me, you’re going to have a lot of success in your life. I know you are. All it’s gonna take is for you to stay in school – keep coming back to the institute each year – and you’ll be surprised at all you’ll learn, and all you can eventually do.”

“I. . . I’ve been thinking that maybe someday, after I graduate and all, that maybe I can teach the new boys, like you taught me. I can show ‘em stuff, and make ‘em do their lessons, and do fun things with ‘em too, just like you did with us.”

Joe put an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “That sounds like a fine goal. I know you’ll achieve it if you set your mind to it. And you know what else?”

“What?”

“If that’s still what you’d like to do after you graduate, I’ll put in a good word for you with the headmaster.”

That comment made Caleb laugh. As his merriment died away, he asked, “Will you write me?”

“I sure will.”

“At the school? And when I’m at my parents’ farm, too?”

“You bet.”

“But you don’t have to write in Braille any more. How will I read your letters?”

“I’ll write to you in Braille, don’t you worry.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Joe stopped walking then and reached into the left front pocket of his pants. He pulled out a box and handed it to Caleb.

“Here. I didn’t get any of the other boys a going away present, so keep this between us.”

“What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

Caleb opened the box and took out a gold pocket watch attached to a chain. After he’d explored it with his fingers, he flicked open the lid and smiled with delight when he discovered the numbers were in Braille. His fingers next traveled over the inscription on the inside of the watch’s lid.

‘May, 1873. For Caleb. Best Wishes Always. From Your Teacher, Joe Cartwright.’

The boy’s arms encircled Joe’s waist. “Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. I’ll use it forever and ever. I’ll never want another watch, no matter how old I live to be.”

Joe placed one hand on Caleb’s head, and the other on his back. “You’re welcome. Whenever life seems hard, you read what I had inscribed on that watch and remember that I’m thinking of you, and that I believe in you.”

“I will. I promise I will.”

Caleb held onto the watch with the same reverence some people hold onto a Bible, until their walk brought them back to where the other children were playing. He put the watch in his pocket then, and joined his classmates in a game of croquet. 

When the day ended, it was hard for Joe to hold back his tears as he said goodbye to all of “his boys.” Like Joe, most of them would be heading home over the next few days. Though unlike Joe, they’d all be returning to the institute in the fall. Every single boy told Joe they’d never forget him, just as he assured them of the same. His teenagers got him with one final prank by dousing him from behind with a bucket of ice-cold water straight from the pump. Joe stood there dripping and laughing, while trying not to regret his decision to give up his teaching career.

As the line of carriages that were taking the students back to their dormitories pulled away, Joe stood on the sidewalk watching the departure. He glanced to his right when an arm came to rest across his shoulders, and saw that Adam had joined him. 

“It’s not easy saying goodbye, is it.”

“No,” Joe shook his head. “Even after everything they put me through, it’s not easy saying goodbye at all.”

“You could change your mind,” Adam said, not able to hide the hope in his voice.

“I could, but I won’t.”

As Joe knew he would, Adam accepted that answer without further discussion. The headmaster patted his brother’s back, then walked away, leaving Joe alone to say a final, silent goodbye to his students.

Chapter 61

Another difficult goodbye came Joe’s way three days after the school year ended. He was headed home, eager to board the train, and yet, dreading it at the same time. Boston was a long way from Virginia City. He’d miss having the luxury of Adam’s counsel any time he needed it, and he’d miss the sister-in-law who’d brought so much joy to Adam’s life.

Joe said his goodbyes to Mrs. O’Connell before he, Adam, and Laddie departed for the train station in one of the Brockington carriages. It was only fitting that Joe’s parting mirrored his arrival, which included Elliot doing the driving. 

“I’ll miss yeh, Joseph,” Mrs. O’Connell had said tearfully. “I surely will.”

“And I’ll miss you, too.”

“Don’t yeh be fergetin’ to give that Hop Sing fella’ me recipe for Boston Cream Pie that yeh love so much.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget.”

“And tell Eric and yer da I said hello to ‘em, and to come back and visit soon.”

“I’ll be sure and do that.”

Joe bent to receive the little woman’s hug, gave her a kiss on the cheek in return, and then followed Laddie and Adam out the front door. He stopped at the gate to bend down and say goodbye to Shakespeare, who had trailed along behind the little group, as though he, too, was mourning Joe’s parting. At least the dog would still have a chance to “work,” as Laddie was now using him for guidance around the house, and for short trips throughout the neighborhood, in the same manner Joe had when he couldn’t see.

When they arrived at the station, Joe shook hands with Elliot and thanked him for the many trips he’d chauffeured. 

“It was my pleasure, Joe,” the man said, before walking off to find a porter to take care of the luggage.

Joe say goodbye to his sister-in-law next. He kissed her cheek, and then said softly so only she could hear, “Thank you for making Adam so happy.”

“You’re welcome.” She patted the slight bulge just above her waistline. “Don’t forget to tell your father about our “surprise” as soon as you get home.”

“Oh, I won’t forget,” Joe promised, while silently congratulating himself on all that privacy he’d given his brother and sister-in-law these past few months. Obviously, it had born fruit, in a manner of speaking. “You’ll hear his shout all the way here.”

Joe moved from Laddie to Adam. He stood looking at his brother a long moment, not sure how to put in to words all he wanted to say. “Thank you,” seemed so inadequate, considering everything Adam had done for him.

“Have a safe trip,” Adam said.

“I will.”

“Tell Hoss and Pa I said hello.”

“I’ll do that.” Joe chewed on his lower lip for a second. “Adam, I–”

“You don’t have to say it, Joe.”

“Yes, I do. The only thing is, saying thank you doesn’t seem to be enough.”

“It’s enough.”

“I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me since last summer.”

“And I’d never ask for repayment.”

“I know, but still. . .”

“How about if we just settle on, “Goodbye, brother,” and leave it at that.”

Joe smiled as he stepped forward to give Adam a hug. He patted the man on the back. “Goodbye, brother. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Little Joe.”

Joe’s smile widened at this form of address Adam so rarely used. It spoke of their history together as brothers, and spoke of the affection Adam couldn’t voice.

When the two men parted, they shook hands, Joe not letting the handshake break until the train whistle blew, and he had no choice but to board.

“I’d tell you to behave yourself,” Adam said as he and Laddie walked with Joe to the boarding platform, “but I know it won’t do me any good.”

“You’re right. It won’t.”

“Stay safe, Joe!” Laddie called over the crowd that was quickly surrounding Joe.

“I will!” 

“Have a good trip!” Adam shouted.

“Okay!”

Joe was swept up with those boarding the train. When he reached the car a porter directed him to, he chose a seat by a window that faced the platform he’d just been standing on. He soon caught sight of Adam walking along the platform with his wife, his gaze never leaving the train. When Adam spotted Joe, he stopped and said something to Laddie. They stood there holding hands and smiling. When the train finally began to chug away from the station, Adam started waving. Joe waved in return, not halting the motion until Adam was out of view.

Joe settled back in his seat, his eyes never leaving all that was passing by outside his window. After all, the last time he’d ridden on a train, he hadn’t been able to enjoy the scenery. This time, he was determined not to miss out on a single sight as he traveled from state to state.

In many ways, it seemed like years since he’d come to Boston. Maybe it was because so much had happened in such a short period of time, or maybe it was because when Joe left Virginia City last August, he never thought he’d be returning to the Ponderosa for more than just an occasional visit.

As the train traveled out of the city, a porter stopped to ask if Joe needed anything.

“Not right now, thank you.”

“If ya’ don’t mind me a’ sayin’ so, Sir, ya’ seem real happy to be travelin’ with us.”

Joe smiled at the black man. “I am real happy. I’m going home.”

“That be nice, Sir.”

Joe turned to look out of the window again, saying softly as the porter moved on, “Yeah, it is nice. Nicer than anyone can imagine.”

Joe had heard someone claim once, that the wheels of a train seemed to say exactly what you wanted them to as they traveled over the tracks. If that was true, then every mile he traveled west, the wheels said, “You’re going home, you’re going home, you’re going home,” until the day came when Joe saw his first glimpse of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range, and knew the wheels were right – he was home.

Chapter 62

Joe wasn’t certain if his father or Hoss would be waiting for him when he got off the stage in Virginia City. Estimating a date of arrival when traveling from as far away as Boston, wasn’t an exact science. Joe had wired his father from Omaha, letting him know the train was running on schedule. He hadn’t sent a wire since then, because there hadn’t been any delays to notify Pa about.

As the stage traveled down Virginia City’s main street, Joe spotted a familiar ten- gallon hat. He barely waited for the stage to come to a stop before opening the door and jumping out. Within seconds of Joe’s feet hitting the ground, Hoss was squeezing the life out of him. When the exuberant greeting between the brothers finally ended, Pa took his turn at hugging his youngest son. 

“Welcome home, Joseph,” the man greeted with his son firmly encased in his arms. 

“Thanks, Pa. It’s good to be back.”

Pa broke the hug and held Joe at arms’ length. “You’re sure about that?”

Joe nodded and grinned. “More sure than you’ll ever know.”

As they got Joe’s luggage from the stage and secured it to the cargo area at the rear of the buggy, they talked of all the things a person would expect after a loved one had just returned from an extended time away. How Joe’s trip was. What kind of progress was being made on the new school building in Boston. How Adam and Laddie were.

“They’re just fine, Pa,” Joe assured. “Happy. Very happy.”

“Well, now, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, as he finished helping Hoss with the luggage. “As a matter of fact, they’re so happy, you’re gonna be a grandpa come about the middle of November.”

“That’s good new. . .” Pa did a double take, his right foot falling back to the ground as he was about to climb in the buggy. “What’d you just say?”

“I said Adam and Laddie are so happy, that you’re gonna be a grandpa–”

“A. . .a grandpa? They’re going to have. . .I’m going to be. . .there’s going to be a baby?”

Joe exchanged smiles with Hoss.

“Yep, there’s going to be a baby.”

“A baby,” Pa said with wonder. “I’m going to be a grandpa. I’m finally going to be a grandfather.”

“Yeah, Pa, you finally are, and the best news of all is, there doesn’t have to be a shotgun wedding.”

“Joseph, that’s not funny.”

“Sorry, Pa.”

“If you had a little more respect for the state of matrimony, you wouldn’t make jokes about something like that.”

“No, Sir.”

“If you. . .”

While Pa carried on about Joe’s views on marriage, Hoss sidled up to Joe, whispering, “Ya’ just had to go and put yer foot in yer mouth not five minutes after gettin’ off that stage, didn’t ya’, little brother?”

“Yeah, but it sure sounds good, Hoss.”

“How’s that?”

Joe smiled and winked as he climbed in the back next to his father. “ ‘Cause it sounds like home.”

Hoss couldn’t help but smile in return. He got in the front of the buggy, picked up the reins, and headed the rig toward the Ponderosa.

~ ~ ~

Supper that night was a celebration – or so it seemed to Joe. It was just Joe, his father, and Hoss at the table. Candy and most of the hands were camping out on the range since it was branding season, which was fine with Joe. He looked forward to seeing Candy, but right now, on his first night home, he wanted it to be just family.

The conversation skipped from one subject to the next, as Joe’s father and brother caught him up on news of the ranch, and things going on in Virginia City. Likewise, Joe shared news of Boston, trying to remember every message Adam had told him to pass on to Pa and Hoss in the days before he left.

Even Hop Sing seemed in a celebratory mood, as he kept popping in to the dining room, checking to see if Joe wanted anything else. After dessert was eaten, Hop Sing cleared the dishes, saying a final time, “Is good have you home, Little Joe,” before scurrying off to the kitchen.

As the three men sipped at the coffee in their cups, Joe looked at Hoss and nodded. Hoss raised an eyebrow, and Joe nodded again.

Hoss’s eyes traveled from Joe to their father. “Uh. . .Pa?”

“Yes, son?”

“Um. . .Joe and me’s been writtin’ back and forth these past few months, and 
he. . .I mean, we, kinda have a few thoughts we wanna share with ya’.”

“Thoughts?”

“Yeah.” When Hoss looked to Joe for help, Joe simply nodded again. 
“Um. . .money makin’ kinda thoughts.”

Ben sat back in his chair. “Oh. Money making kind of thoughts, is it? Well now, it’s been my experience that whenever you two have those kind of thoughts, trouble generally follows close behind.”

“Not this time, Pa,” Joe assured. 

“Hmmm. Not this time, uh? And just what makes this time different, Joseph?” 

“Well, see, it’s like I’ve been telling Hoss in those letters we’ve exchanged. There’s a lot of money to be made by letting people come on the Ponderosa to ride horses, fish, camp, hunt–”

“And just why would we let people come onto the Ponderosa and do those things?”

“For fun.”

“Whose fun?”

“Theirs, of course. Our visitors.”

“What if I don’t want visitors hunting and fishing on the Ponderosa?”

“Pa, come on. We own so much land, you’ll hardly know they’re around. 
Well. . .except when they stop here at the house to pay me and Hoss, that is.”

“To pay you?”

“Yeah, the fee. To pay us the fee.”

“For camping, fishing, hunting, and riding horses?”

“That’s right,” Joe grinned. “You’ve got the idea.”

“Yeah, Pa,” Hoss agreed with a grin of his own. “You’ve got the idea.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got the idea, all right, and the answer is no.”

Hoss’s smile faded. “No?”

Joe’s smile died too, as he echoed, “No?”

“No.”

“But, Pa, in Boston people pay a lot of money to do stuff like this. Why, you should have seen some of the crazy things they’d pay for. Hoss and I’ll do all the work, I promise. You won’t have to do a thing. . .except maybe collect money when we’re off being guides.”

“Guides?”

“Yeah, you know. Showing people around. For an extra fee, of course.”

“Of course.” Ben took a deep breath. “Joseph, now you listen to me, and listen to me good. I will not have people traipsing all over the Ponderosa like she’s some kind 
of. . .kind of. . .kind of . . .”

“In Boston, they call it a tourist attraction,” Joe said helpfully.

“All right then, tourist attraction. I will not have people traipsing all over the Ponderosa like she’s a tourist attraction. Need I remind you, this is a working ranch.”

“I know it is. But see, Pa–”

“No, I don’t see, and I don’t plan to. End of discussion.”

“But, Pa–”

“Joseph, if I so much as spot one tourist on my land, I’ll get out my rifle, and it’ll be your backside that’s riddled with buckshot. Do I make myself clear?”

Joe’s eyes dropped to the table with disappointment. “Yes, Sir.”

Pa looked at Hoss next. “Hoss?”

“Yes, Sir, you’ve made yerself clear.”

“All right then. Now I don’t want to hear any more of it.”

“Okay, Pa,” Joe agreed, looking at his father again. “But what about the water closet?”

“What about it?”

“Hoss and I have been talking about remodeling it.”

“Remodeling it?”

“Yeah, so it’s more like the one Adam has.”

“Joe, we don’t have any type of public water system that reaches the Ponderosa, like Adam has in Boston, or a public sewer system, either.”

“I know. But I’ve been reading up on it quite a bit, and if we dig a septic field, and then dig another well, and pipe the water in, and then–”

Ben threw up his hands. “All right, all right. I’m too tired to hear about it at this moment. You two go ahead and see just what kind of remodeling is feasible, but before you tear anything out, or put anything in, I want to approve it.”

“Sounds fair to me, Pa. Doesn’t it sound fair to you, Hoss?”

“I reckon it does.”

Good, let’s get to work then.”

“Work?” Pa questioned. “Joe, it’s getting late.”

“Not too late to do some measuring. Come on, Hoss.”

The two men rushed from the table. Their father shook his head over their enthusiastic departure, and wondered if his water closet would ever be the same again – or even usable, for that matter.

Ben heard the washstand being moved, followed by a crash, and then shattering glass. The man rolled his eyes, easily guessing the washbowl and pitcher had just hit the floor.

“Hoss!” Joe yelled in strangled whisper. “Be careful! What if Pa hears?”

“Well dad burnit, Joe, I thought you was holdin’ onto it.”

“Me? I told you to hold onto it!”

“You did not!”

“Yes, I did! I stood right here and said. . .”

Ben chuckled as the argument continued. Joe had arrived just six hours ago, and it already sounded as though things were back to normal around here. 

The man stood, carrying his coffee cup to his leather chair. As he sank into the comfortable old seat, he lifted his cup toward the second floor in way of a toast, and said with a contented smile, “Welcome home, Joseph. Welcome home.”

Epilogue

As dawn broke on New Year’s Day, snow began to fall on the Ponderosa. By the time the Cartwright men finished eating lunch, a fierce northwest wind was driving the snow sideways. Ben was thankful the snow hadn’t started the previous evening, when the house was filled with friends and neighbors on hand to help him and his sons ring in 1874. Everyone left shortly after midnight, which meant their guests had reached the safety and warmth of their own homes hours ago.

The stock had been fed and cared for after breakfast. No one would have to venture out again until late afternoon, when Joe and Hoss would trudge through the snow to do any necessary chores, break ice on water troughs, and check on the animals. Candy and the other hands were in the bunkhouse, either napping or playing cards, Ben surmised. Tomorrow would be a regular working day again. Today, well today was a holiday, and Ben didn’t blame anyone for taking advantage of it by staying inside near a roaring fire.

Ben and his sons rose from the table, all of them headed for their own roaring fire burning in the great room. Before Joe and Hoss could settle down in front of the checkerboard, Ben walked to his desk and took an envelope from a drawer. A letter arrived from Adam two days ago. Ben had put it away without reading it, knowing New Year’s afternoon would be a good time to share it with the boys.

Adam’s old habit of writing to only his father had ceased after Hoss and Joe found out about his missing arm. Now, letters arrived addressed to each member of the Cartwright family, and some, like the one Ben was holding, arrived addressed to everyone.

“Before you boys get involved in your game, I’ve got a letter here from Adam to read.”

Ben walked back to the sitting area, heading for his chair. Hoss sat on the settee, while Joe perched on a corner of the coffee table. Ben slit the envelope open that was addressed to, ‘Benjamin Cartwright and Sons’ and pulled out the tri-folded letter.

He glanced over at Joe and Hoss before he started reading. For just a moment, he was taken back twenty-five years, to a time when his youngest would sit in his lap on a blustery winter afternoon just like this one was, and his middle boy would sit on the floor at his feet, while he read to them from a book, or told them a story of his time at sea, or of his travels west. 

Ben was brought back to the present by Joe’s voice.

“Pa. . .the letter. Are you gonna read it to us or not?”

“What? Oh. . .oh, yes. Yes, I am.”

Ben looked down at the ivory paper. 

“Dear Family, Happy New Year. Good wishes for a safe and prosperous year to the three of you. All continues to go well here. Elizabeth Josephine seems to grow another inch every day. I look forward to June, when Laddie and I bring her to see you.”

“Poor kid,” Joe muttered. “She’s gonna hate me for that middle name her parents saddled her with.”

Ben stopped reading and addressed his youngest. “There’s nothing wrong with her middle name. You should be pleased that your brother and his wife honored you in such a way.”

“I am pleased, Pa. It’s just that if she’d been a boy, Joseph would have been a good choice for a middle name, I suppose. But Josephine?” Joe wrinkled his nose. “Don’t like that much myself.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not. Little Elizabeth is Adam and Laddie’s baby. When you have a child of your own, you can name him or her whatever you want to.”

“Yeah, Joe,” Hoss said, “you can name the little shaver after me.”

“Mmmm. A daughter named Hoss. Sure, why not? I guess it’ll grow on me after a while.”

Hoss gave his brother a good-natured shove. 

Knowing how his sons could get side tracked when horseplay started, Ben resumed reading before he lost their attention.

“Elizabeth looks quite a lot like Laddie, which means she’s a beautiful baby. Though everyone says she has my eyes and chin. What little hair she has is dark, so if it stays that color, she’ll take after me in that regard, too.

“The new school building is everything we hoped it would be. The children have settled in nicely. Laddie will resume teaching in January. She will bring Elizabeth to class with her, which should work out fine, as Elizabeth is a calm, sweet natured child. Far more like her Uncle Hoss in personality, than her Uncle Joe.”

Hoss beamed with pride. “See, she’s like me.”

“Good thing she didn’t start out weighing what you did,” Joe quipped. “If she had, she’d be the biggest dang baby girl Boston has ever seen.”

Ben smiled slightly as his sons’ bantering, but kept on reading.

“When Elizabeth can’t be in class with Laddie for some reason, she will be with me in my office. As Laddie said, it’s a good thing we teach at a private school. In any other teaching situation, Laddie would have been forced to quit her job. But she loves what she does, and I don’t want her to give it up unless she chooses to. And, of course, I have my own selfish reasons for wanting her to continue teaching. I’d have to find someone to replace her if she didn’t return to her classroom.

“Joe, your boys often ask me about you. Caleb keeps me abreast of the weekly letters you mail him. He is growing into an upstanding young man. He told me of his desire to be a teacher here at the institute some day. In return, I told him that when he’s a little older, we’ll talk about the education he’ll need after he graduates from here. I promised him if he follows through and gets that education, that I’ll hire him.

“Also, Joe, Laddie and I want to thank you for all the work you’ve been doing in order to get a school for the blind started in Virginia City. I wish I could talk you into being the headmaster, but I know what your answer will be, and I understand why. Therefore, Laddie and I are seriously considering moving to Virginia City and running the school ourselves. Since it will be at least another year before the school is ready to be open to students, we have time to get things in order here. I don’t want to leave Boston until I’m certain the school board has chosen the right headmaster to take my place, and of course, I want Laddie to be sure that moving so far from her family is really what she wants to do. She says it is – she says she knows we’ll both enjoy working together as headmaster and headmistress of a school with a smaller student body.”

“Did ya’ hear that, Joe?” Hoss asked. “Adam and Laddie might be movin’ out here.”

“I heard it,” Joe confirmed. 

Despite the return of his eyesight, Joe hadn’t forgotten about his thoughts of a school for the blind on this side of the Rocky Mountains. Ever since he’d returned home, he’d been working on getting the necessary financial backing to start such a school. He’d found a building in Virginia City that, given some remodeling, would initially be suitable for the children. At a later date, a new school would likely have to be built, but that need probably wouldn’t come to pass for several years.

“That’s good news, huh, Pa?” 

Ben smiled. “Yes, Hoss, that’s very good news. Now let’s see what else Adam has to say.”

The man slipped the top sheet of paper beneath the second sheet, and resumed reading.

“We’ll talk about our plans further with all three of you when we visit in June. I’m eager to see what you’ve found for us, Joe. For a while, Laddie and I will probably live at the school, or very near it. But eventually, I’d like to have a house built on the Ponderosa for us, if that’s all right with you, Pa.

“I must say goodbye now. Laddie tells me that Elizabeth wants her papa to rock her. Oh, and speaking of Elizabeth, she received far too many presents for Christmas from her Uncle Hoss and her Uncle Joe. Laddie says Elizabeth is the only seven-week-old baby in Boston with enough toys to last her until she’s long outgrown playing with toys, and that the two of you are going to spoil her terribly if you keep it up.

“I’ll write again soon. In the meantime, take care of yourselves. Love from, Adam, Laddie, and Elizabeth.” 

Ben folded the letter and put it in his shirt pocket. While Hoss and Joe played checkers, he’d write to his oldest son.

For a period of time, the three men sat and talked over the various pieces of news Adam told them, then drifted off to their own pursuits. Ben stood and walked to his desk, as Joe and Hoss set the checkerboard up on the coffee table.

As Ben opened his top desk drawer, he encountered a piece of paper folded in the middle. Without unfolding it, he knew exactly what it was. He’d picked it up off of Adam’s desk a few days after the fire and put it in his suitcase. He’d never told Adam or Hoss where the list went, but then, they’d never asked. They probably assumed he’d thrown it out, or Mrs. O’Connell had done so when she was cleaning. But it hadn’t been thrown out, because for a long time, Ben had harbored the fear that Joe’s eyesight would leave him again just as quickly and unexpectedly as it returned. If that had happened, then Ben wanted this list to refer to. 

He slowly unfolded the paper and read the words written on it – all of them painful reminders of a decision that, most likely, would have had a tragic outcome. The memory of those months when Joe was blind washed over Ben. The hopelessness he felt when Joe refused help of any kind, the way that hopelessness transformed to hope when Adam arrived to teach Joe, and then the sorrow he’d kept well hidden when Joe said he was moving to Boston. 

However, all of that was now behind them. Joe’s eyesight had returned over a year ago. He’d had no incidents of blurred vision since then, or loss of vision, nor had he suffered any headaches. 

As Ben crinkled up the list and walked toward the fireplace, he knew a man was better off not to question miracles. He paused in front of the flames a moment, then tossed the list into them and watched it burn. He turned toward the coffee table when Joe asked, “What’re you burning, Pa?”

Ben smiled. “Oh, just something I don’t need any more.” 

When there was nothing left of the paper but ashes, Ben headed back to his desk. He sat down and spent this snowy New Year’s afternoon writing to his oldest son, while the laughter, joking, and teasing going on between his two younger sons, warmed his home in a way no fire ever could.

~ ~ ~ The End

*Many thanks to Jane L. and Wrenny for their time spent beta reading this story. I appreciate your friendships, and your sharp eyes! 

*The Boston Institute for the Blind was fictionalized for story purposes. The well-known Perkins Institute for the Blind was the school actually present in Boston during the time period this story takes place.

*Unlike what was fictionalized in this story, it wasn’t until shortly after World War I that the first German Shepherds were trained as guide dogs for the blind, or “seeing eye dogs,” as they were commonly called for many years. And again, unlike what was fictionalized in this story, the name “German Shepherd” wasn’t bestowed on the breed until the latter part of the 19th century/early part of the 20th century. The German Shepherd wasn’t recognized as a pure bred breed until 1919, and then due to tensions with Germany, was referred to as the “Alsatian Wolf Dog” for several years. Prior to World War II, the name “German Shepherd” came into fashion again for the breed. The dogs were highly valued by American and British Armed Forces during the Second World War because of their intelligence, bravery, and loyalty.

*Virginia City didn’t actually exist until 1859. Since the “Bonanza” writers ignored this fact, and made references to the existence of Virginia City during Joe’s boyhood, I chose to go along with their fictional liberties during the writing of this story. 

*During the writing of this story, research was done regarding the Transcontinental Railroad, and what was available to the wealthier Boston citizens during the 1870s in the way of indoor plumbing luxuries, as well as other amenities such as natural gas. Research was also done regarding games, “amusements,” and the typical lifestyle led by upper class Americans. Any misinterpretations are – oh drat – solely the fault of the author.