THE STACKED DECK: FROM THE DIARY OF GRIFF KING

A Bonanza Story by Carla Keehn

Introduction: In the 14th and final season of "Bonanza", the character of Griff King was introduced. Griff was pretty much a man of mystery, angry and distant from the Cartwrights, the scriptwriters never did provide many details of what events shaped Griff to become the man that he did. This story is a result of the few pieces of information the scriptwriters did provide, assisted, of course, by the imagination of the author!

PROLOGUE:

I rolled over on my back and stared up at the ceiling for a minute, just like I'd done every morning for the past four months. The focus of the world around me sharpened and I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Four months . . . four months . . . the words thundered through my mind. This was the fourth month of my captivity in the fanciest prison that I'd ever been kept

in - - the Ponderosa Ranch.

If you're reading this, then I expect that you've heard a lot about the owner of the Ponderosa Ranch, the high and mighty Ben Cartwright. You might even be a friend of his - if so, you ain't gonna like the story I have to tell. I've been around and I spent a lot of time studying men like Cartwright - there ain't a one of them that gives something away for nothing. Behind them fancy words, Ben Cartwright and his sons ain't no better than anyone else I've met. But that part of the story comes later . . .

Candy, he's the foreman at this ranch; he's the one who suggested that I write down my story. I laughed in Candy's face when he first suggested that I keep this diary. Now that he's stayin' up at the house with the Cartwright's, Candy's always readin' them newspapers and magazines that come in from all over. I expect this is another one of them crazy ideas he found in one of them papers.

I don't know why Candy puts up with me, considerin' all the trouble my being here has caused him. He talks about us bein' friends and I reckon that's true. He's gotten closer to me than anyone else ever has.

Keepin' this diary is important to Candy, so I told him that I'd do it. I've been doin' a lot of thinkin, about the Ponderosa and the events that led me here. I've decided that all things bein' considered, life ain't nothin' more than a stacked deck and the cards have always been lined up against me . . .

PART 1: THE CARDS ARE DEALT

The other men in the bunkhouse were still asleep as I slid out of my bunk and tiptoed to the front door. I grabbed my brown shirt off the edge of my bunk as I passed by and threw it over my shoulder.

Outside, it's quiet, except for the distant sounds of the early morning birds. That's one of the things that bothers me about bein' here - the quiet. Comin' from the State Prison to a place like this - well, it's hard to put into words what that's like. Prison ain't a quiet place, don't matter what time of day or night it is. There's always someone talkin', fightin', prayin and, often, the sounds of death closing in. I was at the prison a good while before those sounds stopped botherin' me. Got so that I hardly thought much about'em - till I came here.

The scenery's real pretty here, that's the truth. After bein' locked up like a caged animal, it feels mighty good to feel the sun shining down or the rain as it falls from the sky.

I expect about now you're thinkin' that I got a lot to be thankful for. Bein' out of prison, livin' at a fancy spread like the Ponderosa. Don't look that way from where I'm sitting. There's been too many days since I came here that I've wished that Ben Cartwright had minded his own business and left me where I was.

Not quite the reaction you expected, I reckon. I didn't ask Ben Cartwright to bring me to his Ponderosa. I've never taken charity from anyone, especially the likes of Cartwright - men with too much money who think they know what's best for the rest of folks. I met plenty of men like that while I was in the State Prison. A group of them even got together and called themselves a Reform Board. Yeah, I know the type - always promising to help you and always expecting something in return.

It don't surprise me none, though, nothin' does really. Cartwright ain't no different from anyone else I've met in my 24 years on this earth. My Ma, my step-father, they said they cared about me too. Wasn't any truth in their words then and there ain't no truth in them words now. It was a joker card, dealt to me by the dealer from the deck that was stacked against me from the very start . . .

PART 2: THE FIRST HAND IS PLAYED

I finished tucking in my shirt and decided to sit on the front porch and watch the sun come up. There's something about a sunrise that puts a man at ease. I used to dream about owning a ranch like this. A place where I could work and make something lasting, something that no one could take away from me.

Growing up, I never really had a home. My Ma ran a boarding house in a small midwestern town. The place was pretty profitable, for a time, till the mines dried up. Then people stopped coming to town . . .at least the respectable people stopped comin'. The saloon was a few blocks from our place and it wasn't long before every drunken drifter and out of work miner was living with us - - and sleepin' with Ma. Word got around town quick that if you wanted a good time, Mae King's bedroom was the place to go.

One day, I asked Ma who my father was and she laughed. "Take your pick!" she shouted, pointing to the dining room where her boarders were eating like pigs from a trough.

Some women have a God given gift for motherin, but not my Ma. I used to do things to try and get her attention, but it wasn't any good. There'd always be someone else beside her, pawing at her like an animal in heat. I'd see the other kids that had a good home with family that cared about'em and wished I could trade places. But dreams are for children. I gave up dreamin' about things like that a long time ago. A man can't survive in the State Prison on dreams . . .

You're probably wonderin' what I did that got me sent to that Prison. Most folks do but the idea of askin' makes them uncomfortable. I don't mind tellin' you. The fact is, my bein' sent there was another cruel trick of the cards, courtesy of the dealer of life . . .

PART 3: A TROUBLED HAND TO PLAY

I had just turned 16 years old when Otis Stone entered my life. Stone was out of work, a drifter - the only kind of man that Ma's place drew in. Up until his arrival, things went on as usual. The men would come, stay a while and then go, some sooner, some later, but all of them tired of Ma and her dubious charms in the bedroom.

Otis Stone came into Ma's life at a bad time. She was tired, lookin' at least 20 years older than her 45 years. She was discouraged too. Discouraged by the looks she got from the fine ladies in town, who crossed to the other side of the street when they saw her coming or the fine upstanding citizens who stopped talking when Ma walked into the Mercantile.

Then Otis came in to the picture with his oily looks and fast talking words. He knew that Ma was ripe for the taking and take her he did. He moved in on her with the speed and stealth of a snake, taking a deep foothold in her life before I could do or say anything to try and stop him. First he took over the kitchen, so his "sweet Mae didn't have to spend so much time over a hot stove." Then he was doing the book-keeping and before long, Ma wouldn't make a move without Stone's consent.

I hated Otis from the first moment that I saw him. I knew what he was. His kind had passed through Ma's place plenty of time over the years. The feeling was mutual - old Otis couldn't stand me either. I heard him tell Ma plenty of times that he "didn't have no use for the seed of another man." Lookin' at me reminded him of all the others that had come before - - and that galled Otis, 'specially when he'd been drinkin'. I figured if I kept quiet he'd move on one day, like the others had. But that ain't the way the dealer meant for the hand to be played. I endured the drinkin' the arguin' and the beatings for three long years. I didn't think things could get much worse. But one morning, they

did . . .

It was early one Sunday when Ma came downstairs, grinning from ear to ear, sayin' that her and Otis was engaged to be married. She was eager to talk about their plans to sell the boarding house and buy a small farm outside of town.

Somehow, I found the gumption to speak up. I told her the truth about how I felt about Otis. The idea of her bein' married to that man made my insides churn. Not that she was much of a mother but this was more than I could stand. I started shouting and told her that I'd kill Otis if he gave me even the smallest of chances. I'd thought about killing him many times in the past. Sayin' the words, after keepin' them bottled up inside for so long, felt good in a way. But that good feeling didn't last long because that's when it happened - - that's when the dealer in the game of life revealed the cruelest card in the deck to me . . .

PART 4: A FOLDED HAND

Ma sided with Otis and tried to tell me what a fine man he was. Her words didn't surprise me none. I'd be hard pressed to remember any time in my life when I saw anything besides disgust in her face when she looked at me.

Stone was right beside her, laughing at me. I had a bad feeling that there was something else, something they knew and hadn't told me yet. One look at the malicious gleam in Stone's face told me that my hunch was right.

"I told you there wasn't any point in lyin' to him," Stone said, clamping his arm around Mae's waist and drawing her close. His fat hand traveled up her back and he wadded a big hunk of Ma's stringy hair in his fist. I saw tears well up in her eyes as he gave her hair a hard yank. "Don't matter none what you think, boy, cause we was married last night in front of the Justice of the Peace. That means in the eyes of the law, Mae's my woman and I do believe that gives me other rights too, rights that every father is entitled to."

Father . . . I wanted to strangle the man for using the word. I didn't want no part of the rights he was talkin' about. The right to beat me for no reason at all. The right to make me sleep in the barn with the pigs cause he couldn't stand the sight of me in the house. The future was looking darker and darker.

I never thought of Ma. The whores at Ella Johnson's place got treated better than she did. I figured that since she done stood up next to the old man before the Judge, she'd have to live with the choice she made.

"You know what this means, don't you, boy?" Stone let go of Ma, shoving her to the floor. "This means that you're on your way of out here. I got the law on MY side now - and the law says that I can put you where you belong - in the State prison. You threatened to kill me, that's reason enough to put you away for a long time - -"

I hadn't expected that. No wonder Stone had laughed. He'd set a trap and I'd walked right into it. Old Otis had played the final card in his hand - - and I had come up short - -

PART 5: THE SHOWDOWN

Stone finally stopped speaking. He'd beaten me and we both knew it. It was pretty obvious that the triumph Otis felt was making him excited. He hauled Mae up from the floor and began loosening the bodice of her tightly laced dressing gown.

I looked at Mae, hopin' that I'd see some speck of feeling in her eyes for me. I'd done that before, for more years than I can count. Waitin' and hopin' that one day her feelings would change and that she'd love me the way a mother was supposed to love a child.

But Mae had already forgotten I was there. Her cheeks were flushed and I saw the dark look of need in her eyes. She helped Stone's fat fingers with the laces of her gown.

Stone licked his lips in expectation. "I got something else to take care of now, boy," he said in a husky voice. As the two of them headed to the stairs, I saw Otis grab at one of Mae's sagging breasts. He sucked on the rosy tip, his lips smacking greedily.

There was only one way out for me. I had to run - - right then - -

I ain't no coward. And I ain't afraid of a fight. But Stone was holding all the cards and I wasn't gonna let him win. If I ran, I'd cheat him out of bein' able to carry through on his threat to lock me up.

I shoved some food in a burlap sack and grabbed some ammo from the pantry. The last thing I did was to throw some coins on the kitchen table. It'd be just like the old man to add a charge of stealing on to what he already thought he had on me.

I ran for the barn and never looked back . . .

PART 6: ON THE RUN

I was on the run for three months before Stone and the Sheriff finally caught up with me. I didn't expect to enjoy my freedom during that time, but I did. I'd been lookin' out for myself all my life but bein' away from my situation at home gave a new feelin' inside. A feeling of starting over with a clean slate.

I drifted from town to town, sticking mostly to places off of the main roads. I kept to myself, taking odd jobs where I could. It don't sound like much, but it was my life. When I got lonely there was always a willing ear to be found at local saloon.

It was during this time that I first met Candy. I was on my way to Billings, Montana, when first saw Candy, stranded by the side of the road. His horse had thrown a shoe and gone lame. Right off, I sensed a kindred spirit in Candy. he'd been through a rough time and I shared a lot of what had happened to me as we traveled together into town. We ended up workin' together for a while at one of the local ranches. Not too long after, he asked me to continue on with him, sayin' he appreciated the company. I turned Candy down. I wanted to go with him, that's for sure. But I knew that Stone wouldn't give up lookin' for me and I was worried about what Otis would do to Candy if we was caught together.

That was a first for me, wanting to be around someone and carin' about what happened to them. I had never trusted anyone enough to do that before I met Candy. And it was a long time before I'd reach out to someone like that

again . . .

It wasn't long after I left Billings before they caught me. Stone was there to enjoy the victory that I'd made him work so hard for. There wasn't no use in fighting or trying to run. I was outgunned several times over.

Stone watched in silent amusement as the Sheriff tied me up good and tight. Then I saw the two of them talk by themselves for a few minutes. Stone pressed a wad of paper into the Sheriff's hand. It was money - the payoff for helping Otis to frame me. Then Otis was gone, takin' my horse and supplies with him.

I hung my head low. No matter how I played the game, every lousy card in the deck was always stacked against me.

One of the deputies hoisted me over one of the other mounts and we started heading North - towards the State Prison . . .

PART 7: INCARCERATION

The ride to the prison was long and hard. The Sheriff decided that he didn't want anyone asking any questions about his prisoner, so we took the mountain trails all the way. We rode all day into the night. It seemed like we was in an awful hurry to get to where we were goin'.

As I sat astride the worn out nag they had me riding on, I couldn't help but thinkin' about things. I ain't never heard of lockin' a man up because of something he said. There wouldn't be enough prisons to hold all the men that had threatened to kill someone. The anger burned like a furnace inside of me. I should have killed Stone when I had the chance . . .

Once we got to the prison, the first place they took me was to the Warden's Office. It was there that I found out why we had been in such a hurry.

The Warden opened his safe and paid off the Sheriff and his men right in front of me. More of Stone's money, of course, with a bonus for bringing me in so quickly. The warden and the others had a good laugh at how well paid they were for such an easy job and how stupid Stone was to hire out for gettin' rid of someone he could have taken care of.

It's hard to put down on paper what I went through in that place. I figured it'd be the same there as it was on the outside - me lookin' out for myself. I didn't bargin on what seein' the same stone walls day after day could do to a man's mind.

The Warden and his men treated us like animals. The squalid living conditions and rations drove many men insane. Day after day was the same - a fight to survive.

I'd been in that prison for four years when Ben Cartwright and the other members of the Prison Reform Board came to make their inspection. After bein' locked up all that time, I figured I was gonna die there, just like so many others had. There was great unrest among the prisoners at the time of the inspection. Constant mistreatment had pushed many of the men to the breaking point. It was agreed that the time had come to put a stop to it, no matter whose blood was spilled doin' it.

Ben Cartwright and the others couldn't have picked a worse time for their inspection . . .

PART 8: UNEASY PLANS

I'd managed to stay out of trouble during my four years. I found out there were others like me - people who hadn't committed any crime other than bein' somewhere they wasn't wanted. A couple of the older prisoners befriended me. Worn down and resigned to spending the rest of their lives in the hellish surroundings around us, they taught me a lot about survival. The world outside the prison seemed kind in comparison to what I faced within those cold stone walls.

Except for a small handful of guards, the rest of the prison officials were corrupt. The money that came to the prison went to the Warden and his men. Decent food, clothing, medical treatment - we went without all of that - nothing was spent on the prisoners.

The warden was smart - he never left his office, at least not alone. Everyone knew he was afraid to come near the prisoners. We were all waitin' for a chance to kill him, to pay him back for what he'd done to us.

Two days before the inspection, I listened quietly as the others argued about what was gonna happen when the Reform Board came through. I expected as much. We were like wild animals, trusting no one. Fighting against each other was what came naturally. It took a lot of talkin' by the older men to convince the majority that violence would only bring more hardship down upon us. Grudgingly, it was agreed that we would show the Board members what was goin' on without the Warden or the guards even knowing about it.

The morning of the inspection, I woke with a bad feeling in my gut. Something was gonna happen. Turns out I was right. The dealer was about to reveal my next hand and I knew from the start that things were going to turn against

me . . .

PART 9: REBELLION!

There was a tension in the air that day, more so than usual. The Warden and his men were overconfident about the impending inspection - overconfident and careless. The guards were inattentive, taking no notice as we cleaned our living area. The aroma coming from the kitchen that day was torture . . . the smell of decent food not only made our mouths water but it fueled our desire to take action. To the Warden and his men, the days preparations were all part of the game, necessary to show off the Warden's "model" prison. To us prisoners, it was an opportunity to make the prison officials atone for the wrongs which had been done to us.

I was stationed in the kitchen. The smell of thick stew drifted up from the stove towards me. The smell was distracting - it had been so long since I'd tasted real food. I had a burlap bag of rotted vegetables stashed on a shelf right underneath where I was standing. It was hanging precariously near the edge, the contents ready to come tumbling out when I hit the shelf with my knee.

The guards were trying to hurry the members of the Reform Board through. They were on edge, scared that someone might find out what was really going on.

That was the first time I ever saw Ben Cartwright. Dressed up in his Sunday clothes, he looked just like the other three men who made up the Reform Board. I knew right off, though, that he was different from the others. I didn't know what to think about this Cartwright fella, a man who was questioning the guards and really seemed concerned about the prisoners and how they were treated.

I turned my head away from the stove and saw Cartwright comin' right towards me. My knee shot up and the rotted potatoes and carrots tumbled to the floor with a loud thud. Cartwright looked confused for a moment till one of the others came forward and showed him a bag of flour. I saw a sick look cross the old man's face when he saw the disgusting mixture of flour and maggots hanging out of the sack.

That's when the plan started unraveling. The guards realized what we were tryin' to do and got scared. The prisoners reacted the only they knew how - with violence . . .

PART 10: HOSTAGES!

Over the protest of the senior prisoners, Cartwright and one of the other Board members was taken hostage. A new faction of the prison population was suddenly in charge - a younger, more frightened group of men, determined to repay violence with violence.

I didn't have much choice but to go along. Partlyy 'cause I wasn't lookin' to get killed right then and partly 'cause I wanted to find out more about this man named Ben Cartwright.

The takeover happened quickly. One of the members of the Reform Board was killed in the melee that broke out. A smaller group of prisoners, eager to inflict punishment on their torturerers, went after as many guards as possible.

Then the standoff started with the prisoners barricaded in the living area and controlling all the areas around it; the Warden and his men were holed up in the other part of the complex.

I had a lot of time to study Ben Cartwright during that time. Wasn't no secret that he was one of the wealthiest men in Nevada. Cartwright was our bargaining tool to get what we wanted, our guarantee of no punishment later on. Amid the shouting and arguing that frequently broke out during the standoff, Cartwright listened to our demands for better treatment and food. The idea of the Warden and his men takin' payoffs to extend the sentences of certain prisoners disturbed Cartwright. Then we showed him the sweatbox that was located in the kitchen. The box had purposely been built right behind the stove so it could be kept hot all the time. I'd lost count of the number of men I'd seen go in there and come out dead. One of the prisoners shoved Cartwright into the box and I saw the old man stagger as a wall of heat hit him. Finally it looked like someone was going to believe our story about what was goin' on at the prison.

The waiting was hard on Mr. Cartwright. In one breath, we was arguin' about usin' him as a hostage, in the next, we was tryin' to decide the best way to kill him. Little wonder that he seemed so burdened. When the others weren't lookin', I gave Cartwright a cup of water. I got to say he seemed mighty grateful for it too. Lookin' back, I still can't figure out why I did that - except for helpin' Candy that one time, I ain't never thought much about doing any kindnesses for others.

But you get that way, after a lifetime of dealing with Otis Stones, all out for one thing - gettin' what they wanted to satisfy themselves. Cartwright, he was a different kind of man - the kind of man I had no idea of how to deal with . . .

PART 11: A NEW DECK OF CARDS IS CUT

I heard once that the past has a way of haunting a person. I can only remember one other time that I'd ever felt like I could trust someone - when I was with Candy. Those few weeks we spent together in Billings was the only time that stood out in my memory as bein' good. The memory of those few good weeks used to drive me mad. Two good weeks out of a lifetime of pain would be enough to push the strongest of men over the edge.

As the second day of the standoff dawned, a feeling of exhaustion nagged at me. I'd had a dream the night before about Candy and me workin' at the ranch in Billings. I dreamed a lot about the past. Bein' locked up behind them stone walls makes a man hungry for the outside and for the people too. I'd a given anything to go back to my life with Ma and Otis, bad as it was.

We got a surprise later that morning. One of the men found a prisoner layin' out in the hallway that connected the living quarters to the main part of the prison. There was somethin' familiar about this prisoner, but he was slumped over, so I couldn't get a look at his face till after we'd brought him in.

It was Candy. He looked older than when I'd last seen him, but I was sure it was him. I knew right off that Candy was tryin' to pull something when he started mouthing off about bein' sent up for horse stealing. The Candy I knew wouldn't have taken anything that didn't belong to him, no matter how down on his luck he was. The other prisoners were suspicious. Whatever Candy's game was, I figured he was gonna need help. I backed up his story and told everyone that Candy was as dishonest as the day is long.

Right after I got through talkin', Candy showed us the fresh welts on his back.

I could tell by the shape of the cuts in his skin that he'd been beaten with the Warden's special whip, the one the Warden used when he was "rehabilitating"

a prisoner. Seein' them wounds put to rest any suspicions about Candy.

Later, I saw Candy and Ben Cartwright exchange a few quick words. Something was gonna happen, something that the Warden needed a man on the inside for.

Candy and Ben Cartwright - my past and future mixed together. Everytime I began to accept the hand that life had given me, the dealer shuffled the deck again. The winds of change were stirring and, like always, I had no choice but to ride out the storm . . .

PART 12: THE HAND IS PLAYED

Time passed slowly that day as we waited for something to happen. Even at the best of times, there's only so much staring at the walls and thinkin' a man can do during the course of a day.

I had a chance to talk to Mr. Cartwright some that afternoon. I told him my story, just to see what a righteous man like him would say. Cartwright's a hard man to figure. He didn't say nothin', even when I told him how much I wished that I had killed my step-father. After a moment, he finally spoke and told me that changes would be coming, not just for me, but for the other prisoners too. His words didn't mean much to me, not comin' from a man that didn't have much chance of making it through the day alive.

Candy stayed away from everyone, including me. He looked nervous, like a cat waitin' for a bird to land somewhere close. I saw he was movin' slow - I reckoned those welts on his back must have been hurting something fierce. After while, I got some water and began cleaning the sores, whether he liked it or not. I'd seen too many men die from infections that set in after a beating. Besides, helpin' Candy made me forget about the waiting.

Every hour that passed made the prisoners more tense. The Warden was smart - he figured that if he waited long enough, we'd be at each other's throats. That's exactly what I saw happening around me.

Then something else happened, something I never expected to see. For no reason at all, Candy started in on Ben Cartwright, accusing him of lying about helping the prisoners. I got to hand to Cartwright, he stood his ground. The old man never flinched, not even when Candy got right up close to him and was shouting in his face.

This was entertainment we hadn't expected - someone daring to bring a respectable man like Ben Cartwright down. The tension in the air was broken and the guards at the door relaxed. Everyone was watching as Cartwright joined in the verbal fencing with Candy.

Then from out of nowhere, came the sound of an explosion from the hallway and the room around me began to shake.

Candy's tirade was a ruse to draw the guards away from the door and give the Warden's men a chance to set an explosion outside the door. Guards flooded into the room, firing their weapons at anyone that was moving.

The standoff was over. The guards had us outnumbered and outgunned. None of us had any choice but to stand still and hope the shooting stopped . . .

PART 13: AN UNEXPECTED TWIST OF FATE

The gunplay ended as quickly as it started. I saw Candy help Cartwright over to the door where another man was waitin'. I found out later that other man was Cartwright's son. The son seemed glad not only to see the old man but Candy too. Watchin' the three of them together hurt. Candy wasn't even blood yet the old man and his son was treatin' him like someone special. I thought that I'd given up them childish dreams of havin' someone care for me like that, at least I thought I had, until then. Seeing them together also made me more curious about what kind of man Cartwright was. Candy and me, we're cut from the same cloth. This Cartwright fella had to be special if Candy trusted him.

All of us prisoners figured that once the guards moved back in, things would go back to the way they were before. None of us believed Cartwright's fancy words about there being any changes made. So we were all surprised when things started happening and happening fast. A new Warden was brought in. His first action was to replace the entire prison staff. The former Warden and his guards were arrested. I'd a never believed that was possible but I saw it happen with my own eyes.

Two days later, the guards came and smashed the sweat box to pieces. That's when we finally believed that Ben Cartwright had spoken the truth. As far as I was concerned, things were lookin' up. If I had to spend the rest of my days locked up, at least the conditions would be better than they were before.

I couldn't have been more wrong about that . . .

At the end of the same week, the guards came for me and took me to the Warden's office. They were all there waitin' for me, Cartwright, Candy, Cartwright's son and the Warden. The new Warden said that he'd been reviewing the files of all the prisoners, mine included. There wasn't no legal reason for keepin' me there, the Warden said, so he was releasing me into Ben Cartwright's custody. Said that he and Cartwright figured that I deserved a chance to make something of myself.

I didn't say nothin'. I felt kind of numb inside. Candy tried to tell me what a good chance this was for me. But I didn't see it that way. It wasn't my choice whether I stayed or went - no one had seen fit to ask me what I wanted to do.

That dealer, she's a tricky one. I figured that I'd been dealt my last losing hand but I was wrong. Somewhere along the way, she started dealing from a new deck - and I was never more unsure of what the cards meant than I was at that moment . . .

PART 14: PRISONER ANEW

Two hours later, I walked outside of the walls of the State Prison for the first time in four years. The Warden was there to see me off. After he shook my hand, he made a short speech reminding me of how I grateful I was supposed to be feelin' and said that he didn't ever want to see me back there again. At least, that's what I reckon he said. I was still too stunned by my sudden change in circumstances to take in much of what was said.

Mr. Cartwright and Candy tried to make things easy for me. There was a new horse and gear waitin' for me and the first thing we did was to stop in town so I could buy some decent clothes. Cartwright's son was another matter. It was plain that he didn't think his Pa was doin' the right thing. I agreed with him even if I didn't tell him so. I didn't expect this new place I was goin' to was gonna work out any better than before.

Old man Cartwright made a lot of small talk on the ride back, about his ranch and my future. It was hard for me to listen to what he was sayin' and I really didn't want any part of anything that the Cartwrights had to offer.

Candy knew me well enough to know that I wasn't payin' much attention to anything Cartwright had to say. When we made camp that night, Candy and me had words which ended in a fist fight. After that, no one said much the rest of the way back which suited me just fine.

Things ain't gotten much better since that day. Sleepin' in the bunkhouse ain't my idea of fun. The hands are havin' a good time at my expense with their practical jokes. My first night here, they cut the ropes to my bunk. A couple of times, Candy got on them and told them to lay off. He only made things worse by doin' that though.

And the Cartwrights? They're a hard bunch to figure, I'll say that much. Candy says that one of old man Cartwright's sons passed away not too long before I came. Cartwright seems pretty cut up about it too. And then there's that other one, Joe. Bein' an ex con means everyone is waitin' for me to mess up - and it's plain that Joe Cartwright's thinkin' that too. I heard him and Candy talkin' one night about how I needed some time to get used to bein' here. Ever since then, Joe's been keepin' his distance - I give him credit for doin that much. And the youngest one, Jamie, the kid that Cartwright adopted. I can't figure why the old man would do somethin' like that. Everytime I see Cartwright with that kid, I hear Otis Stone's voice ringin' in my ear. "Ain't nothin' I can do with him, Mae," Otis's slurred voice would say. "He ain't got my blood in him, there's nothin' I can do . . ." Yet Cartwright seems bent on helpin' folks, whether they're kin to him or not.

I guess it don't sound like I'm lookin' at things right. The way I look at it, a prison is a prison no matter how fancy the walls are. I ain't never met a man that would help someone out of unselfish motives. I keep waitin' for the dealer to throw down the card she's keepin' up her sleeve - the one that tells me what the price is for what Cartwright is tryin' to do for me.

Maybe, if things go on this way long enough, Cartwright'll give up on me and cut me loose - -

Just then a noise cut through the early morning stillness. An uneasy feeling creeps over me. I quickly slam the diary closed. The hairs on the back of my neck felt all prickly and that's when it hits me - I'm not alone anymore. Someone was standing behind me, reading the entries as I wrote - -

PART 15: A NEW START

I took a deep breath and turned around slowly. I felt like a caged animal, not really wanting to know who was there but the circumstances forced me into finding out.

It was Ben Cartwright. Figures, don't it? The dealer pulled another joker card on me, just when I least expected one.

The old man looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Griff," he stammered. "I wasn't trying to intrude . . ."

I played it cool. "Don't matter none to me. They didn't give us any privacy in the State Prison either. Didn't figure on it bein' much different here."

I knew that Cartwright would be angry by what I'd said and he didn't disappoint me. The old man cared about his ranch almost as much as he cared about those sons of his.

"Griff - -" Cartwright paused and took a breath, trying to get his temper in check. "Griff, son, listen to me . . ."

Son . . . In all my life, no man had ever called me that. I didn't like the way it made me feel inside.

Cartwright was still talking. "Candy said you were keeping a journal. I kept one myself for many years, long before the Ponderosa became a reality."

I shrugged. "It's just something to do to pass the time - it don't mean anything."

"Every man faces things differently, I suppose," Cartwright mused. "When I was fighting to make a place here with Adam and Hoss, writing down the hardships we endured helped me quite a bit."

"Hardships?" I spat the words out at him. "What would you know about having things rough? Living here," I continued, stabbing my finger at the sprawling house, "on this ranch, like a king!" The forcefulness of my words surprised even me. But I couldn't help it, I felt cornered. Cartwright's words were pressing against me, against the walls I'd built up inside to keep people away.

"Every man faces hardships in life, Griff," Cartwright continued patiently. "I've been widowed three times - three women that I loved and cherished with all my heart were taken from me and my sons without warning. Each of those times, I felt, at first, that my life was over, but I found the courage to keep going."

I just listened, not knowing what to say. I'd never heard anyone speak like that before, like someone who really felt the words he was sayin'.

Cartwright's eyes grew misty as he spoke. "A few months ago, I buried a

son . . ." Overcome by emotion, the old man's voice broke.

I finally found my voice again. "I'm sorry . . . about your son and all."

Cartwright pulled himself up, his emotions in check once again. "I had a reason for telling you all of this, Griff."

I wasn't going to let his words draw anything out of me. "Oh?" I replied with an air of disinterest. "What reason was that?"

"We're all dealt hands from the same deck of cards, Griff. The deck is stacked us against all of us and the dealer doesn't give favors to anyone."

"Yeah? That's easy for you to say, talkin' from where you're sitting."

"I can see how it looks that way to you. Griff, it's a matter of how you play the game. Some men decide to play the hand and keep going while others fold right away." Cartwright placed a hand on my shoulder, just like I'd seen him do to Candy so many times before. "It's easier to pick yourself up and keep playing when you're not standing alone. And, no matter how it looks to you right now, son, you're not alone - - not anymore . . ."He thumped me on the back encouragingly. "Think on that hard, Griff. The future might look better to you after you do."

I thought I saw something in Cartwright's eyes as he talked. The look of someone who might really care about what I was thinking and feeling. A look that I never saw in Ma or Otis Stone.

And then, as quietly as he came, Cartwright was walking back into the house.

As I watched him leave, my thoughts were in a jumble. I'd been on my own for so long, never allowing anyone to get close to me. And I was tired - -

Tired of being kicked in the face by life. Tired of trying to remain strong in spite of it and having to continue on alone - -

I realized that except for the Cartwrights and Candy, I really was alone. It had been over four years since I'd seen Ma or Otis. To me, they were dead. Any feelings I had for Ma died the day I ran from the boarding house.

Not alone anymore . . . Cartwright's words had unleashed a storm inside of me. Maybe he was right. Maybe not going it alone would give me the upper hand with the dealer the next time around.

I took a deep breath and realized the air was heavy with the aroma of fresh coffee and baking biscuits. It was the start of a new day.

And maybe - - the start of a better life for me - -

THE END

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