Barb L.

belauger@msn.com

Author’s Note: This is an Adam story, although the other Cartwrights are also present. This is an NC-17 romance and contains some explicit sex language and scenes similar to what you might find in one of today’s romance novels, so be forewarned! This story as well as my two other “Destiny” stories (one about Hoss and one about Joe) assume that the three Cartwright brothers find love, that the female leads don’t die as they did in most of the TV episodes, and they go on to lead happy lives. All of the characters are based on those created by David Dortort for the Bonanza TV series. Only Mary Lynn Nolan, Vance Nolan, and the children are my own creations. Enjoy!

BLIZZARD OF DESTINY

Part I

Freezing rain and giant flakes of snow riding on a strong wind pelted the man riding through the densely wooded area. He had known this early spring storm was coming, but he had been anxious to reach home following his successful three-day business trip, so he had pushed his horse forward, betting against the odds. It was now almost dark and he knew he was in trouble. Lapses in good judgment were unusual for him, and he silently cursed himself for getting into this mess. The storm was rapidly worsening and very soon he would be lost in the dark, in blinding blizzard conditions.

He needed to find some shelter quickly, because it was becoming obvious that he’d have to hunker down somewhere for the night. If he pressed on, he would surely lose his way and could easily freeze to death out in the storm. He had been riding for hours, ever since the smallest snowflakes had begun to float to the ground, and long before the wind picked up to the gusts that now slammed against him. He had turned up the collar of his coat, pulled on heavy leather gloves and pulled the brim of his black hat down low on his forehead. That had helped some, but enough time had passed that he was now pretty much wet through and through, and he was aware that ice was forming on his hat and coat.

He was contemplating the idea of stopping to build himself a shelter for the night, using from pine boughs and branches, when he realized he was probably somewhere in the vicinity of the Nolan Mountain line shack. “Whoa, boy,” he spoke softly to his horse, patting his neck. The large brown horse stopped, but kept snorting and throwing his head. The weather was agitating him, and he was wet too. The man looked around to get his bearings. The mountain was on the north edge of his family’s ranch and the shack had to be only a couple of miles directly ahead, close to the property border, as many of the line shacks were. He spurred the horse on, knowing that darkness and the thick, blowing snow were going to be his worst enemies in locating the shelter.

As the snow accumulated on the ground, travel was slow for the man and his horse. It was now completely dark and he knew he had traveled far enough to be close to the line shack. Although he could no longer see it, he knew he was in white-out conditions, which would make locating the shack almost impossible. It consisted of a cabin and a small stable, but they wouldn’t be occupied by any of the hands at this time of year so there was no use in looking for any kind of light to guide him. He knew that his best hope was to get lucky and ride smack into the building, and he also knew that hope was slim. He got down from his horse and began to lead the animal, moving slowly, eyes darting in every direction, trying to get a glimpse of a structure.

At least a foot of snow stood on the ground now, and moving through it was difficult. It didn’t take long for the wet to penetrate his thick leather boots, and his heavy corded pants were a lost cause; they had been soaked hours ago. He could even feel that his shirt was wet through his coat, and he was more than cold. Reminding himself not to panic and to keep thinking clearly, he sent up a quick prayer for help. In return he only heard the wind roaring through the trees. He kept moving, resorting to murmuring to the horse in a low, reassuring voice. He knew perfectly well he was trying to reassure himself as much as the horse.

Then without warning, he glimpsed a light a short distance ahead of him. Good Lord, it couldn’t be. There would be no light out here now. He must be so chilled he was beginning to see things. However, the light remained steady, and it was closer than he thought it was. When he came up face to face with the flat wall of the shack he dropped his head to his chest. There was such a thing as a guardian angel, and his had directed him here! Keeping his hand on the wall he moved toward the stable, whose location he knew from the lighted window. Someone else had also taken refuge in the line shack, and thank goodness that person or persons had already lit a fire.

As he pushed open the stable door he realized he was breathing heavily. The hours out in the inclement weather had definitely taken a toll on him and he was winded. In the dark he knew another horse was present. Knowing his way around a stable from an early age, he quickly unsaddled his horse, rubbed him down, found a blanket to throw over him, and fed him some oats found in a nearby wooden trough. Leaving the stable, he secured the door behind him and headed toward the lighted window which was dimming in the onslaught of snow. After the relative sanctuary of the stable, the wind-slashed snow felt like needles against his face. The few steps to the shack felt like miles. With shaking hands he found the door, and threw it open, eyes moving directly to the fire in the hearth. He had made it. Fortune had smiled on him, and Adam Cartwright would now likely survive this deadly blizzard.

The young woman stoking the fire started violently when the cabin door flew open against the wall. Her immediate thought was that the storm had worsened and the wind had forced the door open, but that thought was quickly replaced when she turned to see the man standing mutely in the doorway. Normally she would have been frightened by the sight of him, but it was probably the storm that made her curious instead. Strange weather did strange things to people. He just stood in the doorway, not moving, leather saddlebags hanging over one shoulder. That he was in a bad way was clear. His clothing was plastered to his body, but covered with ice and snow. His face was reddened raw from the weather. His dark eyes were narrowed as they stared at the fire, as if trying to figure it out, and his mouth hung slightly open. He was shaking fiercely. When he still didn’t move after a few more seconds, she started again, feeling the bitter wind and drifting snow blow in through the open door. She moved quickly toward him, grabbing one arm to pull him into the small, one-room cabin while shutting and latching the door at the same time. Not sure how much longer he would remain on his feet, she grabbed a wooden chair from a rough wooden table in the middle of the room and shoved it near the fireplace. She took him by the arm again and pushed him into the chair. As he sat down, thin slices of ice broke off his coat and pants, falling in shards around him. She took off his hat and started unbuttoning his coat.

“Good heavens, Mister, long how have you been out there?” she muttered as she worked quickly, pulling off his coat and throwing it onto the table. When he didn’t respond, she stopped to look at his face. Still staring at the fire, he seemed to be in shock. His lips looked slightly blue. He didn’t react when she pulled off his boots and started on his shirt and pants, all cold and wet, including a gun belt. Shortly she had piles of wet clothing all over the floor and she was down to his long-johns, which were also wet. She unbuttoned the first two buttons at his neck and reached inside to lay the palm of her hand against his chest. It was cold. Too cold for a human being whose body core was supposed to be warm. A shock of realism hit her when she suddenly understood that she may be dealing with a life and death situation. She had no idea how long he had been out in the storm, cold and wet, but it was clear that his body temperature had dropped. She unbuttoned the sodden underwear to his waist and stripped it off him. His skin was very pale against heavy black chest hair. Quickly she yanked a blanket off the bed in the corner of the room and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was the first warm, dry piece of cloth that had touched his skin in more than six hours.

Thinking and moving at a furious pace, she dragged the rumpled mattress off the bed and pulled it as close to the fireplace as she dared. Hanging over the end of the rustic bed frame were two heavy old buffalo robes which she lugged over to the mattress. One she spread over the mattress itself and then she turned back to the man. “Mister, can you stand up?” For the first time, he turned his head and looked up at her with a blank expression. But he stood up, teeth chattering. Without thinking about what she was doing, the young woman unbuttoned and removed the rest of his long-johns, kicked them aside, and guided him over to the bed by the fire. He sank onto it, with a rush of air escaping his lungs as he did so. He closed his eyes as she covered him with the remaining buffalo robe. A few seconds later she tucked a pillow under his head. His black hair was wet and blown every which way, and she smoothed it back where it was plastered across his forehead.

Hanging over the fire was a pot of water she had been warming to make herself a cup of tea before she went to bed. Ignoring the tea, she filled a tin cup with some of the water, testing to make sure it wasn’t too hot. She took it over to him, finding that he had curled up and now lay on his side, still shaking. She was determined to get something warm down him; anything to help raise his body temperature. She leaned over him and pulled gently on his shoulder, trying to get him on his back. She eased an arm under his neck and raised his head slightly. “Drink this, Mister. It’s warm and it’ll help you.” The first few drops dribbled down his chin, but when he realized what it was, his hand came up to grasp the side of the cup and he guzzled the water down completely. So he was thirsty, too. She realized he had been outside longer than she had originally thought. Well, at least something warm had gotten down him. She helped make him comfortable again and tucked the buffalo robe tightly around him.

Shaken, she sat down on the wooden chair he had earlier occupied. She didn’t know much about anatomy or medicine, but she was pretty sure he was suffering from a dangerously low body temperature, and she knew that condition could be fatal. For the moment she had done everything she could for him, but she was still worried. Glancing over at him, he appeared to be sleeping, but it was hard to tell because he still shook from the cold. She looked down at herself and smiled grimly. She was a sight too, wearing her coat over a long flannel nightgown and boots on her feet. She had been on her way home to the top of Nolan Mountain, following a visit to a friend, when the storm caught her by surprise much earlier in the afternoon. Having only lived in the area for two years with her grandfather, she wasn’t thoroughly familiar with all of the terrain, so she had stumbled on this empty line shack by accident when the snow began to fall heavily. Finding it stocked with wood and some food supplies, she decided to wait out the storm here. It had taken her a while to get her horse, April, settled in the stable, and to build the fire inside…but what would have happened to this near-frozen man if he hadn’t found the cabin, or even if he had been forced to take the time to start a fire himself in his wet and frozen clothing, with every passing moment dropping his temperature?

Shuddering, she rose and picked up the wet clothing, spreading it over chairs, table and bed frame so that it could eventually dry in this drafty, chilly shelter. She walked over to the window. Trying to peer out she saw very little, but the depth of snow on the outside window sill and the howl of the wind told her the blizzard was not abating. She put one more log on the fire to keep it going through most of the night and then blew out the lantern on the table. It was then she realized that there was no place for her to sleep except on the mattress with her cold, exhausted patient. The bed in the corner was useless without its mattress. She didn’t debate the issue for long, however, because the line shack was very cold, as the bitter wind forced itself through every crack and board. In fact, combining body heat was probably the most sensible thing two people could do under the circumstances. It was a matter of survival, especially for this man.

Having found a quilt near the bed, she added this atop the buffalo robe. Then she took off her coat and boots and slid under the covers next to this man she did not know. Now sleeping on his back, his breathing was shallow. She moved aside the blanket she had earlier wrapped around his shoulders to once again lay her hand on his chest. Not warm enough. She moved it down to his stomach. Same there, and his forehead was tepid although his red cheeks were hot. He wasn’t shaking as badly, but there were tremors that ran through his body now and then and he shivered occasionally. Resolutely, the young woman bundled up her coat to use as a pillow and placed it close to the man. Then she put her arm around him, bringing herself as close to him as she could. Finally she brought one leg up and slung it across his legs. That was it. She couldn’t think of anything more she could do to warm him up. Feeling anything but relaxed, she closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

Adam awoke to the smell of brewing coffee. He didn’t move immediately but just lay still, trying to gauge his surroundings. He remembered the nightmare of being lost in the blizzard the day before, and he definitely knew now what it felt like to freeze to death. At the present time, however, he wasn’t freezing. He was, in fact, warm, even though he could still hear the blasted sound of the raging storm outside. He furrowed his brow, vaguely remembering that he had found what he thought was the line shack he had been searching for. He remembered stabling his horse, Sport, but couldn’t remember anything beyond that. He shifted his body slightly under the covers and realized in an instant that he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. Feeling the heat coming from the nearby hearth, he turned his head in that direction and saw a woman kneeling there, preparing the coffee. He could only see her back, but she had long, straight blond hair that fell down her back over the coat she was wearing.

“Water?” he said, only it came out as a whisper and he had to clear his throat before that much was even audible.

“Oh! You’re awake!” the woman turned and jumped to her feet, with wide blue eyes and both hands clapped over her mouth. She was very young, maybe only 20. “Of course you want water. Hold on here one second while I get it.”

He could hear water being poured and shortly she was kneeling at his side with a cup. He leaned up on one elbow and took the cup with his other hand. Taking a sip of nearly hot water, he made a face. He was thirsty; he wanted cold water. But she was shaking her head at him. “Drink that down. I’m still afraid to give you anything cold.” So he slowly did as she instructed and handed the cup back. As he did so, he realized the effort that simple act had cost him, and he lay back down again, looking up at her steadily.

Without warning she put both hands on either side of his face, pausing silently. Then she felt his forehead and moved her hands down to feel his upper arms, and then his chest.

“Oh, thank goodness you feel warmer! I wasn’t sure if you were going to live or die. When you appeared last night, you were nearly frozen, and it was all I could do just to get you to stop shaking. Your lips were blue and your teeth were chattering. I made you this bed by the fireplace and I gave you some warm water, and then I practically slept on top of you just to...” she stopped abruptly and turned bright red, looking away from him.

“…keep me warm,” he finished for her, a slight smile curving his lips.

“That’s right! I had to! People can die if their bodies get too cold. I can tell you, though, I didn’t sleep much at all with all the worrying about you.” She paused to draw in a deep breath and then resumed. “How are you feeling now? Can you move your fingers and toes? Is there any feeling in them? Are they tingling? We should check to make sure they aren’t turning black, because that’s a sign of frostbite, which is very dangerous.”

He moved his hands out from under the bedcovers and held them up, flexing his fingers. She grabbed each hand and inspected it. They were pink. She let out a breath.

“My feet tingle a little, but I have feeling in my toes,” he reported.

She dove to the far end of the mattress and pulled the covers up to look at his feet. His toes looked a bit purple to her, but they weren’t black by any means, and he was moving them. “I think you’re OK,” she said with relief, tucking the covers back where they belonged.

She sat back on her heels and looked at him. He was really a handsome man, she thought, with that black wavy hair, dark eyes and beautifully curved lips. She remembered, too, somewhere in the back of her mind, that when she undressed him last night he was all sinew and muscle. He was, of course, quite a bit older that she. Embarrassed again, she remembered the coffee. She moved to the fireplace and poured two cups, kneeling back down carefully next to him and waiting until he could position himself to take the cup she held forth. It would be hot, and hot was good for him right now.

“Who are you, and how did you get into the condition you were in last night?” she queried, taking a sip of hot, strong coffee.

“Cartwright. Adam Cartwright. I was trying to reach home before dark. It was a long shot, and I lost. If it weren’t for the fact that I stumbled on this line shack, I’d probably be frozen dead somewhere out there now. If you didn’t have a lantern and a fire burning, I would never have found it,” he was very matter-of-fact.

“Where’s home?” She watched him over the rim of her cup.

“A ranch outside of Virginia City, just a ways beyond the bottom of the mountain.”

“Virginia City’s not that far away. You almost made it. Almost.”

“Yes, almost. And thank you,” this last was spoken very quietly.

“Thank you?” She tilted her head, puzzled.

“Yes, for saving my life. You did, you know. I wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t done everything you did for me last night…including taking away every last stitch of clothing I had on,” one side of his mouth tilted up slightly as he eyed her directly.

She knew she was red again, and she hated herself for it. “Well I had to! You were soaked through and there was even ice on your coat! You didn’t think I would try to warm you up while you were all wet, did you?”

“Not at all. You behaved appropriately, and I am deeply grateful. Now may I ask what your name is, my dear heroine?”

She paused momentarily to see if he was making fun of her. His face, with its heavy black whisker stubble, was solemn. “I’m Mary Lynn Nolan. I live with my grandfather on the top of the mountain.”

Adam frowned. “Vance Nolan? My father knows him. We don’t see him very often; I didn’t know he had a family.”

“My father was his son. My parents died two years ago, so I came to live with Grandpa.”

“I’m sorry about your parents. Why haven’t I heard about you before if you’ve been here for two years?”

“I don’t know. I could ask you the same question.”

“Well, we must not travel in the same circles,” he said mildly.

“What circles?” she practically snorted. “Grandpa hardly ever comes down from the mountain, and I only have one friend here, and it’s her house I was returning from when the storm caught me yesterday. I didn’t even know about this cabin, but I decided to stay here when I saw it because I know that traveling up the mountain on horseback in the snow can be treacherous.”

“You made a good decision in more ways than one,” and then he chuckled. “And you’re probably right about our ‘circles.’ Vance Nolan is known in these parts as a bit of a recluse, and a grump at that.”

“He is,” she agreed, “but he’s been good to me. In fact, he’s probably worried sick about me right now. Isn’t your family worried about you, too?”

“Probably not too worried. They know I would turn back or find shelter somewhere. I’ve lived in this area for many years. I know the terrain…and fortunately where we built all the line shacks.”

“Well, then, you have a very understanding wife…and you mean this cabin belongs to your family? I’m sorry I just took it over, then. I didn’t know,” she was embarrassed again.

“You did the right thing to stop here. It probably saved your life too. And there’s no wife; just a father and two brothers and our ranch.”

There was an ensuing silence during which Adam drained his coffee cup and then started to sit up. “I’ve got to check on my horse. I may not have taken the best care of him last night.”

Mary Lynn hopped to her feet immediately. “I’ve already done that, Mr. Cartwright, and at least for today you’re not leaving that bed. After your misadventure last night, a day’s rest can’t hurt you one bit. Besides, it’s so cold in here your clothes haven’t dried yet. Lie back down,” she pushed against his shoulder.

“Look, Miss Nolan,” he started.

“Mary Lynn.”

“Mary Lynn, I really think…”

“…that you need something to eat. Stay put. You don’t have anything to wear anyway, Mr. Cartwright. I’m going to see what I can find for us to eat.”

“Adam,” he said, knowing he was losing this argument. Tiredness overtook him again and he dozed off almost before his eyes closed.

Adam slept on and off for most of that day. Mary Lynn made cornbread along with salted ham and dried applies, which they ate for breakfast and again for supper. She found that Adam was inordinately thirsty from his ordeal and she finally let him drink unheated water. He never developed a fever, which she had been halfway expecting, and she was grateful she didn’t have to nurse him through the unknowns that could bring to this situation. His clothes were drying slowly, mostly because the cabin wasn’t very warm at all, except close to the fire. Those things closest to the hearth dried faster and the rest seemed to stay damp for a very long time. His coat, the heaviest and wettest of what he had worn, looked as though it may never be dry again, so it was eventually moved close to the fireplace, hung over a chair back. As daylight was beginning to fade, Mary Lynn prepared to go out to the stable again to check on the animals, even though snow was drifting and blowing everywhere the eye could see.

“You strung a rope between the cabin and the stable, didn’t you?” Adam asked as he watched her button up her coat.

“No, why?”

Alarmed, he felt a sudden rush of anger. “The minute you take two steps out that door, you can’t see a thing! You could start walking in the wrong direction, and walk until you freeze to death! Blizzards are famous for killing people that way. You have to string a rope so you can hold onto it, knowing that it will lead you straight to the stable and back. I’ll see to the horses myself,” he was sitting up now and grabbed his now dry shirt, beginning to button it down the front.

Mary Lynn felt stupid as she realized the logic of what he said, but she felt a rising anger as well. “Well what’s to keep you from wandering off away from the stable? If no rope is a problem for me, it’s a problem for you, too!”

“Turn around,” he commanded as he stood up suddenly and wrapped the blanket he’d used earlier around his waist. He stepped off the mattress and took two steps toward his pants when the room began to spin and he walked straight into the table. Muttering an oath, he put one hand on the table to steady himself, and the other hand over his eyes, letting the blanket fall to the floor. Mary Lynn spun around when she heard him hit the table and gasped to see him leaning heavily over it. She was also seeing a man naked from the waist down for the first time in her life as she hurried toward him, admitting to herself that it was an impressive sight. She grabbed the blanket and quickly put it back around his waist while she grabbed one of the wooden chair rungs with her foot and dragged the chair over. Soon he was sitting, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“Adam, you scared me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine. I just stood up too fast after being in bed all day.” He sat back in the chair and raised his head, looking around him as if to make sure the room had stopped moving.

“Look, that settles it. You can’t go out to the stable today. I have to do it,” Mary Lynn pointed out.

“You still need the rope,” he said wearily, rubbing his eyes. “Without it you’ll face the same odds I faced last night, and I’m only here now by the grace of God.”

“Fine, we’ll string a rope, but we’ll have to work together and you’re staying inside, agreed?”

Adam nodded and gestured for his pants. She handed them to him along with his boots and socks, both of which were still damp. Then she obediently turned around while he dressed, mostly sitting as he did so. A suitable rope was found in a wooden chest against the wall. Adam tied one end securely around Mary Lynn’s waist, and they walked together to the cabin door, moving slowly to make sure his dizziness didn’t return. Mary Lynn had dragged the chair with her and made him sit on it by the door. He tied the other end of the rope to the outside door latch, hunching over against the wicked wind that whipped in the moment the door was cracked open. When he was finished he looked up at her.

“Okay, head out to your left. The stable isn’t more than 50 paces from here. When you get there, untie the rope from your waist, pull it mostly tight and tie it to the outside latch of the stable door. If you go more than 50 paces and haven’t reached the barn, you may be off course. If that happens, just pull on the rope and follow it back here. Either way you’ll be safe. When you get to the barn, call out to me. I may be able to hear you over the wind. I’ll stay right here,” he couldn’t think of anything else to tell her. The rope would guide her back one way or another.

She nodded and stepped outside. In a second or two he could no longer see her, but he felt the slack rope moving through his hands. She had tucked her flannel nightgown into a split riding skirt, buttoned up her coat and tied a scarf over her head. She had on some knitted gloves that he considered only slightly better than nothing. He was counting off paces to himself, but he had no idea how deep the snow had become or how long it would take her to move through it. Time passed in an agony of slowness until the rope stopped moving. He sat up straight and strained to listen.

“Adam!” It was a shout.

“Mary Lynn!” Shout returned.

“Found the barn!”

At that announcement, Adam let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and shouted back, “Good girl!” He stayed at the cabin door, keeping it cracked open until he could feel her pulling on the rope, making her way back. When the cabin door pushed open, she stood in front of him covered with snow from head to foot. He pulled her inside the same way she had done for him the night before, and started removing her scarf and coat. She was gasping from the cold and the strength of the wind.

“The drifts reached my hips. My boots are full of snow and there’s snow all the way up my skirt! The snow feels like pin pricks. I don’t know how long this can last, but you were right about the rope. And to think I went to feed the animals alone this morning!” She was sucking in air in between every few words.

Adam stood and latched the cabin door. He wasn’t dizzy, so he let her sit while she removed her boots and dumped snow out of them. When she started slaking snow from the inside of her riding skirt, he discreetly moved toward the hearth. He put more wood on the fire and this time he fixed her a cup of tea.

“Do you have a change of clothes?” he asked her, seeing that the bottom of her nightgown was damp from the snow that had wet her skirt.

She nodded and twirled her finger at him, which he correctly interpreted as an instruction to turn his back to her. He did so as she took a small satchel from the corner. He could hear her rustling inside it and waited patiently. Listening to the sounds of the fire, he was beginning to relax and so was startled to hear something slam loudly against the cabin’s only window. Mary Lynn yelped in surprise, and he spun around, heading directly toward the window. She had frozen momentarily at the noise and as he passed her his gaze caught her in the act of pulling a fresh nightgown over her head. He also caught a close-up view of her full, pink-tipped breasts, barely disguised under a gauzy camisole, and he was surprised at the jolt that sight gave him. Without pausing he moved quickly to the window. There was nothing to be seen since full darkness had now settled in. The window, at least, was fully intact. He moved to the door and opened it in a futile attempt to see much of anything at all except snowflakes swirling immediately in front of his face.

When he turned back, Mary Lynn was fully covered again and looking at him questioningly. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what that was, but we’re extremely fortunate that the window didn’t break. If it had, we would have had to move into the fireplace to keep warm, it would be so cold in here. That noise could have been a bird or a limb torn loose by the wind, even a large pine cone, but I couldn’t see anything at all out there.”

“Do you think someone is out there?” she seemed tentative and concerned.

“If there is someone out there, we’ll know soon enough, but I don’t see how anyone could have survived in this storm for this amount of time.” Nevertheless, Adam had taken his holster and set it near the bed. He held her tea out to her and they both settled into the bed, not only for the evening, but mostly for the warmth. This time Mary Lynn was shivering from her excursion to the stable. As soon as the tea was gone, Adam pulled the quilt and the buffalo robe securely over them, and then he pulled Mary Lynn close to him, her head on his shoulder. He could feel her snow damp hair through his shirt.

“We’re going to have to get used to sleeping this way to get through this storm with any degree of comfort,” he was addressing the ceiling. “It’s a little awkward, but it conserves heat.”

“I agree, so we’ll just both have to do the best we can.” There was a long silence. “Adam, how old are you?”

“Thirty. Old enough to be your big brother, I bet.”

“I’m twenty-one.” More silence. One last time she reached up her hand to feel his face and forehead. “Normal,” she sighed, except of course, for the black stubble of his beard.

He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “Good?” he asked in the dark. She could feel the warmth through the fabric of his shirt. “Good,” she answered. Time passed and sooner or later they both slept while the wind whirled outside.

With dark blue light appearing through the window, Mary Lynn opened her eyes. It was early morning, and she had slept soundly, to her surprise. She was comfortably warm, and realized that her back was right up against Adam’s front, spoon style. From his breathing, she could tell that he was asleep. It was true; shared body heat did help a person stay warm. She didn’t need to rise yet, so she simply lay still, enjoying the comfort. She could still hear the wind, but it didn’t seem as strong as it had been the previous day. Shifting slightly, she became aware that Adam’s arm was around her, holding her to him, and his hand was almost underneath her, fully cupping one breast. She didn’t know what to make of the situation. He wasn’t holding her tightly; he was relaxed in his sleep. Was this just a simple accident? She relived briefly in her mind all the unconventional things that had occurred in the past 36 hours or so. Never had she experienced a blizzard like this, being stranded the way she was, or a man like Adam Cartwright. Truth be told, she had minimal experience with men at all. She had certainly had her share of boyfriends growing up, and she had been thoroughly kissed, but nothing had ever been truly serious. Since arriving in Nevada Territory to live with her grandfather, she had barely met any men at all, much less had a relationship with one.

Becoming uncomfortable with the situation, she turned carefully onto her back. This caused Adam to shift as well, and he moved onto his back, the hand in question now resting on his stomach as he slept. Mary Lynn felt relieved, but she could very much still feel where his hand had been. She also felt a curious excitement. Why? She barely knew this man, and all their interactions so far had been incidental to staying alive. Pondering the situation, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

She woke again a couple of hours later, to the feeling that she was being watched. Opening her eyes she discovered that her senses were indeed accurate. Adam was awake, reclining on one elbow, his head resting in his hand, and he was watching her intently. He had actually been watching her for some time now, really looking at her perhaps for the first time. As urbane as he considered himself to be (and in fact was) he found her quite lovely. Her long straight hair was a sunny shade of blonde which she seemed to like to braid in the front on each side and then tie the two braids behind her head. She had a straight nose and high cheekbones and a chin that looked as though it could be defiant if she so chose. Her skin, pink from sleep, was freckled across her nose and cheeks. He vaguely remembered that her eyes were blue, and now that she had opened them, he saw that he had been correct. They were in fact a slightly startling shade of periwinkle blue. Her eyelashes were light to match her hair, but they were long and nicely curved. He seemed to recall that she was on the lean side, but then he remembered her full breasts and felt a quick heat start in his body. Adam Cartwright was the scion of the great Ponderosa ranch. He was worldly, educated, and had had a few serious love relationships in his past, all of which had ended, to his disappointment and disillusionment. At his age, he wondered why this 21-year-old girl had so captured his interest this morning. Perhaps it was because she had saved his life. That could certainly be a valid reason. But something more pulled at him, and he couldn’t identify it. He wanted to keep looking at her. Her mouth was hard to figure. Her lips looked full, but he couldn’t really remember if he had ever seen her smile yet. Then again, there hadn’t been much opportunity for smiling since he had burst into her life like a frozen wild man.

“Good morning, Miss Nolan. And may I inquire as to whether you slept well?” he used his very most correct manners.

“Good morning, Mr. Cartwright. You may so inquire, and in fact I did indeed sleep well,” she returned in kind, remembering his early morning embrace. Then she giggled, given the absurdity of their situation in their shared makeshift bed on the floor by the fireplace.

Ah. There was her smile, quick and bright, revealing straight white teeth. She reached out to touch his growing beard stubble. It was jet black like his hair and anyone seeing him for the first time would no doubt assume he was an outlaw of the worst kind.

He fingered his chin, still feeling her hand on his face even though she had removed it seconds before. “Feels like I could use a shave. I have a razor in my saddlebags. I’ll take care of it today as soon as I work up the courage to leave this warm bed,” he said ruefully and gave her a lopsided grin.

“You’re better today, aren’t you?” She was appraising him carefully. “You’re going to be all right. Lord, but you gave me a scare. I didn’t know what I would do with a dead man on my hands!”

“And I’m glad you didn’t have to find out,” he shook his head. “I really misjudged that storm, and I’ve been watching them for years now. I can read the signs and I know better than to try to outride one. I just really wanted to get home.”

“Home must be pretty special to you.”

“It is. The Ponderosa is a beautiful ranch. It’s big and we all work it together, along with a lot of hired help. I designed the ranch house myself and when the weather’s nasty, it’s just a good feeling to be in the great room, sitting by the fireplace with my family. I had been gone three days on a business trip before this storm kicked up, and I was ready to be back there again.”

“I think I’ve heard Grandpa mention the Ponderosa. It sounds wonderful.”

“It really is. It’s got mountains and lakes and meadows and pastures and trees for as far as the eye can see. You can ride for days and still be on Cartwright land.”

“As I guess I am right now since I appropriated your line shack.”

He looked up from where he was running a finger across the buffalo robe. “You are, but like I said, I’m glad you were smart enough to stop here. My family would want anyone in need to take refuge here. We usually keep the line shacks stocked for the hands when they use them during round-ups and cattle drives and foaling season. We’re lucky to have enough wood and food on hand now to help weather this storm. It sounds to me as though the wind has died down some,” he pushed himself up and picked up his boots as he walked to the window. “Well, there’s a lot of snow, but it’s not blowing anywhere near what it was doing yesterday. We’ve probably seen the worst of it. Now we just need to wait for the snow to go down some. The horses will never be able to get down the mountain through this snow. It’s going to be a while.”

“Down the mountain? But I need to go up the mountain to get home,” Mary Lynn’s voice was plaintive.

He turned to look at her, tucking his black shirt into his pants. “Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, Mary Lynn, but it’ll take longer to get up the mountain than to get down it. Going up is rougher riding, and with heavy snow on the ground, a horse can’t get proper footing and it’s almost sure to falter. It could be very dangerous for both you and your mount. I’ll tell you what we should do. As soon as the snow clears enough to get out of here, we’ll both ride down to the Ponderosa where you can stay until we can get you get you safely up the mountain to your grandfather.”

Mary Lynn didn’t look happy. “Adam, I’d be imposing on your family, and we don’t even know for how long. And besides, Grandpa is going to be beside himself wondering what’s happened to me.”

He walked back to her and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face until she was looking at him. “Mary Lynn, you would be more than welcome at the Ponderosa for as long as you need to stay. We almost never get a woman staying in the house and it’s a treat when it happens. My brothers go all googly-eyed, and Hop Sing, our cook, uses the best china and linen. My Pa even serves his best wine every night. I realize that your grandfather is going to be worried, but there’s nothing to be done for it right now. I promise you that as soon as travel is safe, we’ll take you home immediately. Deal?” He felt bad about her obvious disappointment.

She sighed deeply. “It doesn’t sound as though there’s much of a choice, does it? Okay, you’ve got a deal. How long do you think it’ll be before we can leave here?”

He couldn’t sugar-coat matters for her. “I don’t know for sure, but from what I just saw, it could be a week, maybe more.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t say anything. She simply got up, shrugged into her coat and moved over to the hearth to start breakfast. Adam was pulling on his boots and reaching for his coat, which was by now reasonably dry. She knew he was heading to the stable to tend to the horses.

The food had been ready for some time before Adam returned and Mary Lynn had been starting to worry. He explained that as long as he was outside, he set some snares to see if he could catch any rabbits or squirrels for dinner. He wasn’t sure he would in snow this deep. He had also piled more firewood near the door and now started stacking it inside. Visibility was much better now, but the sky was still overcast and the temperature was bitter. Although his coat had remained dry, his pants and boots were wet again. The snow had reached his mid-thigh in some areas.

Mary Lynn handed him his long-johns. “These are mostly dry now. You better put them on and let your pants dry. Didn’t you bring a change of clothes on a business trip?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I did, but I lost my pack riding in the storm. You were luckier than I was,” he sounded a bit sheepish.

She set out coffee and a repeat of yesterday’s food while he changed. They took their plates and cups and sat on the mattress where it was warmest while they ate.

“I told you about me; you tell me about you,” Adam was ravenous, but he was making an effort to eat slowly.

“What do you want to know?” Mary Lynn was chewing slowly, pushing pieces of ham around on her plate, suddenly self-conscious with him.

“Well, for starters, where did you live before you came to Nolan Mountain?”

“I grew up in St. Louis and lived there all my life until my parents were killed in a steamboat accident. That’s when I came here to live with Grandpa Nolan.”

“You didn’t have any other family? No siblings? No aunts or uncles?”

“My mother had some family, but they were killed six years ago traveling west in a wagon train. I’m an only child. It’s a pretty dismal story, really. I have school friends back in St. Louis, but none that I could move in with after my parents died.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had so much tragedy in your life. My mother died when I was born, and my pa’s two other wives also died. Each one had a son—my brothers. It was hard seeing three mothers die and watching my pa live through it,” his voice was low and somber.

She put her hand on his arm. “Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry about that. It seems we both know more than we want to about death.”

“And blizzards,” he looked at her over his coffee cup and this time there was a sparkle in his eyes that made him look distinctly roguish.

“And blizzards,” she agreed, getting up to pour more coffee and give him the last of the dried apples.

Later Adam sat with his coffee staring into the fire. His knees were pulled up and his arms rested on top of them. Mary Lynn had cleaned up after the meal and turned back toward him when she was through. She was thoroughly surprised to see how much of him was clearly outlined through his form fitting long-johns. He seemed unaware of this and she averted her eyes as she moved back to the bed where it was clear they would be spending most of their time unless the temperature outside rose suddenly and considerably. Her cheeks began to burn as she realized she would have preferred to stand and stare at him much longer than would have been appropriate by any standards.

Later on he got up to shave. There was a small mirror hanging on the wall which he used along with a towel and some heated water. He had a cake of soap in his saddlebags and painstakingly worked up shaving lather with it. As he rummaged through his saddle bags, he pulled out a thin book and tossed it to Mary Lynn.

“Here, this’ll give you something to do while you lounge around all day.”

“Hmphh!” was her indignant retort, but she picked up the slim volume. “Shakespeare’s sonnets. How wonderful, I love Shakespeare,” she began turning the pages.

“Read one to me. I could shave in my sleep.”

She began to read aloud the artistry of words as only the bard himself could write them. When she finished one, she read a second.

“Is Shakespeare your favorite?” She asked him as he wiped spots of lather from his face and neck.

He hung the towel around his neck and turned to her, “Shakespeare, Milton, Homer, Tennyson, Byron, I like them all.”

She looked up from the book. Good Lord he was a beautiful man, she thought. Without the growth of beard she could clearly see his features, every one of which was just about perfect. His shoulders were also wide and his hips were narrow. He had long legs and long, tapered fingers that belied the hard work a rancher undoubtedly did on a daily basis. He strode back to the bed and slid back under the covers, shivering briefly from his exposure in the cold room. He took the book from her and flipped onto his stomach, reading aloud to her. His voice was deep and melodious and the words he read were clearly familiar to him. Eventually he closed the book and put it aside. He turned onto his back and put his hands behind his head, continuing to recite the sonnets from memory. Mary Lynn was captivated. Miss Henderson’s School for Girls in St. Louis had given her a good female education, but she was going to have to dig deeper into the classics to match him; that much was clear.

They napped briefly in the afternoon, and then Adam went back outside to tend the animals and check his traps. While he was gone, Mary Lynn washed up as best she could. The cabin was very cold and drafty despite the continuous fire, so she hurried with her bathing and added another log before scurrying back to the bed.

Adam returned victorious, with a squirrel and a rabbit in hand. He had skinned the rabbit in the stable, and with Mary Lynn’s help they made a stew using onions, potatoes and salt that were found in a vegetable bin and on a supply shelf near the hearth. By the time dark fell, there was a meal they both felt was like manna from heaven. There was even leftover stew for the following day. They both drank tea brewed from Mary Lynn’s private supply, choosing to ration the coffee for the mornings. Then they did the only remaining thing they could: they turned off the lantern and tucked themselves under the warm covers for the night.

They were both silent for a long time, facing each other, but just listening to the fire snap in the hearth. Adam was looking directly into her eyes, and she watched him back, for once not bothered by his direct scrutiny. Time passed. Outside there was only the stillness of the snow which blanketed everything.

“What are you thinking about?” Mary Lynn asked.

He didn’t answer. He was thinking that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Why had he not noticed that before now? She was fresh and honest and beautiful. He reached out a hand and placed it on the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. He slowly leaned toward her and gently placed his lips on hers, kissing her softly. He leaned back slightly to gauge her reaction, but her eyes were only searching his. He leaned in again and kissed her once, twice, three times, very gently. She made a soft sound in her throat. He parted his lips and kissed her again, this time longer, much longer, drawing her lower lip into his mouth and sucking on it lightly. Her hands grabbed his arms tightly, but she was kissing him back. He teased her with his tongue and she fell back, breathing heavily. They still held each other’s gaze, and he moved over her to wrap his arms tightly around her. She grabbed his head and pulled it down to hers, initiating her own series of kisses. They continued this way for a long time until he pulled away.

“We have to stop. I can’t… You’re not… I shouldn’t have…” his forehead was touching hers as he struggled to catch his breath. She had never been with a man before, but she could feel what their actions had done to him. Her own heart was pounding and her body felt strangely hot. Her stomach was doing flip-flops that were oddly exciting.

He lay back. “I’m sorry, Mary Lynn. I took advantage of you. I’m sorry.”

Now she was leaning on her elbow, facing him. “What are you sorry for? How did you take advantage of me? Don’t I have a say in this?”

He turned his head to look at her. “Have you ever been with a man before?”

“No…but…”

“That’s just it. I can’t do what I might have done to you just because we’re stuck here together like this.”

“What were you going to do?”

“Love you. I would have made love to you.”

“What if I wanted you to?”

“Do you even know what you’re asking for? Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

She was quiet. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I know I wanted you to keep doing what you were doing.”

He grabbed her hand almost angrily and put it over his aroused penis, holding her there to let the implications sink in. “Are you prepared for this? Do you know what happens with this?” He let go of her, but she didn’t snatch her hand back. She was fascinated by the hugeness of him, the hardness she felt. Did she want this? She thought she did.

“Look,” he began, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I started this, but it was a mistake. We’ve only known each other for 2 days, and most of that time was under duress. I behaved badly. Let’s just go to sleep. Please.” And with that, he turned his back to her and let his head sink into the pillow.

With her hand back in her own possession, she sat and stared at his back for a few minutes. She didn’t know what to think or feel. Hurt. She knew she felt hurt, but she wasn’t sure exactly why. Silently she burrowed herself under the covers with her back to him, and stared straight ahead. She didn’t think sleep would be claiming her any time soon.

Mary Lynn awoke to full daylight the next morning, and this time it was actual sunshine for the first time in days. Adam was gone, and she momentarily feared he had taken his leave until she noticed his saddlebags and gun belt slung over the bed frame. He was probably in the stable. Memories of the night before came flooding back to her, and she groaned inwardly. She didn’t know how she was going to face him, and right now she didn’t want to. The hurt she felt was still present, now accompanied by anger. He had been so gentle, and then so rejecting. Was he playing a game with her? She didn’t know. She only knew she was inexperienced enough not to know how to play the same game with him.

She rose, used the necessities, and moved over to the mirror where she unbraided her hair. Adam had already stoked the fire, and the temperature in the room had improved slightly. Still, she shivered as she deftly fixed her hair in a long French braid down her back. She was splashing water on her face when the door opened and Adam returned, stamping snow off his boots. She glanced at him quickly through the mirror, but he kept his head down as he headed toward the fireplace. He began to make coffee and warm the rabbit stew leftover from the night before. She made no move to help him.

There was no change in the depth of the snow, and the wind was blowing deep drifts in various places. He had set more snares for small wild game, but he mentioned none of this to Mary Lynn. He didn’t know what to say to her. He had watched her sleep again this morning. God, she was beautiful. He wanted her, there was no question in his mind. The problem was he had been raised by a strict father with high moral standards. He knew she was a virgin and that their present circumstances created an artificial environment that would never exist in the real world. There, he might never have met her, and if he had, she might have dismissed him as an uninteresting, older man. But then again, nine years wasn’t such a big difference. People had married with much greater age differences before this.

He was fighting with his conscience, he knew. Last night he could easily have taken her, and he knew she had been willing. But he also knew that any relationship they had here might not carry over into a post-blizzard world. And if he took her virginity, she might have trouble finding a man to accept her. She could even become pregnant and then her reputation would be ruined forever. Cartwright men did not take advantage of unmarried girls that way. He would have to marry her. Was he prepared to do that? Was she willing to marry him? Was their relationship based on enough to sustain a marriage? Characteristically, he tried to lay out his feelings under a thoughtful microscope to examine them in depth. He lost himself in thought.

“You’re burning the stew,” her comment was tight, and yet she made no move to assist him.

His reverie lifted and he quickly grabbed the pot from the fire and ladled out two plates, along with coffee. Without comment, he handed over her plate and cup. They ate in silence.

During the long day that followed, Mary Lynn read and re-read the Shakespeare sonnets, ignoring Adam. He shaved again and skinned the squirrel for that night’s meal, not speaking to her when she visited the stable to check on her horse, April, and where he was working on the squirrel. She spent a long time with the horse, murmuring to her and stroking her nose and neck. She noted that Adam’s brown mount, Sport, was a fine, large animal and had probably been very expensive. Big ranch, good horse, she thought to herself. April was significantly smaller, but she was the right size for Mary Lynn, and her disposition was sweet. The two of them were a good match for each other…unlike herself and Adam, Mary Lynn thought wistfully.

The evening meal was roast squirrel and potatoes baked on the hearth, along with some boiled carrots. They each helped cook the food, but no words passed between them. Following the silent meal, Mary Lynn sat herself in a chair in front of the fire, once again reading the sonnets. Adam stood by the window for a long time, staring out at nothing but darkness, wrestling with his thoughts. He stood legs apart, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t move, and Mary Lynn, by now just staring at words blurred on a page, wondered if he would sleep all night standing up that way.

Finally he turned away from the window, but stayed put. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just don’t know,” he sighed to himself in a low tone.

She turned to look at him but didn’t respond to his comment in any way. She didn’t know what to say. He looked over at her, the first direct eye contact they’d had all day. Even in the dimming light of the cabin she saw the question in his eyes.

“Why don’t you want me?” It was a soft, tenuous question.

Then he moved. He walked across the room in three strides, grabbed her upper arms and lifted her to a standing position directly in front of him. His jaw was clenched.

“I want you. How could I not want you?” He said it harshly. “But you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You’re a virgin. You could get pregnant. No other man would have you after that. Who knows what will happen to us when we leave here? I can’t ruin your life!”

“I want you, too,” it was a whisper.

“How do you know that? I could hurt you. It hurts, you know, the first time.”

“I don’t think you would hurt me. You didn’t yesterday.”

“That was only kissing. When a man sleeps with a woman for the first time, it hurts for her, but only once and only for a few moments.”

“All right.”

“All right, what?”

“All right, I accept that.”

“Why? Why? You don’t know me.”

“I knew enough last night. You did too.”

Defeated, he threw his head back and let out an inarticulate sound of defeat. Then in a quick move, he grabbed her head and pulled her to him. His lips were on hers again, pressing, crushing, demanding, and then suddenly gentling. There was a moan deep in his throat, yearning for more. His arms wrapped around her, holding her so close to his body that she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to. Her arms reached up around his neck and he kissed her with deep, open-mouthed kisses that sent molten blood spiraling through her body.

He took a step back and unbuttoned his black shirt, shrugging it off to the floor. He kicked his boots off and then moved back to her, unbuttoning the row of buttons down the front of her cream colored flannel nightgown. As he did so, she looked at his torso. He had a chest of black hair, broad shoulders, muscled arms and a flat stomach. She wanted to touch him but he was drawing her gown up over her head. As it floated to the floor she stood before him in her thin camisole and her pantalets. He drew in his breath as he gazed at her breasts, rising and falling with her breathing. He moved behind her and let his hands slide up her sides until he reached her breasts, which he held in each hand. He began to caress them and let his thumbs slide across each nipple, hearing her swift intake of breath at the same time he felt them harden beneath his fingers. Her head rested against his chest, and he heard her moan when he lightly rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He slid the camisole over her head and then his thumbs jerked down her pantalets. She stepped out of them and he turned her to face him. She was breathtaking, he thought. Her legs were slim, her bottom rounded and her belly was flat. Within a second he swept her over to the bed and under the covers.

He kissed her neck and her breasts, stopping to suckle gently there. His hands moved over her belly and across her breasts, down her sides and along the inside of her thighs. She was moaning softly, feeling things she had never even imagined before. She said his name and he bent to kiss her again, continuing as his hand moved between her legs. He probed and touched her where no one had ever touched her before, and his touch was like fire. Without thinking she moved her legs apart, and one of his legs moved over hers. He began to stroke her rhythmically in a place and in a way she had never felt before. She began to feel the building of a pent-up energy that felt like white-hot fire and she was unconscious of her writhing hips as his movements continued in rapid strokes. She was breathing heavily, and just when she thought she could bear no more of what he was doing, he pushed her over the edge and her back arched as spasm after spasm of electric pulses cascaded through her core.

Then suddenly he left her and as she lay back, spent and panting, he was back just as quickly, moving over her, having stripped off his pants. He was as huge and hard as she remembered from the night before and she felt him probing between her legs. With a jolt she remembered him telling her that she didn’t know what she was asking for, and she felt a stab of panic. It must have shown as her eyes flew open because he was right there with reassurance.

“It’s all right, Mary Lynn. I’ll be gentle. You’re wet and you’re ready,” His low voice was soothing. He moved himself up and down between her legs and when he found his place he began to nudge himself inside her. She felt she would explode from the size of him, but she didn’t and he kept moving, kissing her neck as he went. Then he stopped pushing in and held himself in place. “This is the place where it hurts,” he told her. “It will be quick.” He pulled back slightly and then sent his entire length driving inside her all at once. She felt a sharp stab like a knife tip. She gasped, and he stopped, waiting. “Are you all right?” She nodded, her face hidden against his neck.

He resumed his movement, stroking in and out of her. Suddenly she realized that he fit inside her and he was moving easily. Her arms reached up and curled around his shoulders; her hands rubbed his back. She felt his muscles moving. Soon her hips were rising to meet his down strokes and a rhythm was established. She felt the spirals of excitement start in her stomach again as he kept on. Presently he began moving faster and his breathing quickened. His thrusts became more urgent, demanding and suddenly there was a low growl deep in his throat, as he sent his full length within her deeply and urgently. Then he collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the side of her neck, catching his breath. As her hands moved over his back she found he was damp from perspiration. Shortly he pushed himself up and she felt him pull out of her. He rolled onto his back next to her, pulling her to him so that her head rested on his shoulder.

He was still trying to catch his breath, but he was talking to her. “Never… never like that…before. So tight…so wet…never before.” He turned his head and kissed her forehead. She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t, but she thought what he was saying was good. They were quiet for a time, drugged by their lovemaking, holding each other. Mary Lynn moved slightly and felt something wet and sticky between her legs. It felt like blood. Alarmed, she reached quickly down to feel it and brought some up on her fingers. Adam noticed her movement, and touched her hand.

“Ah, don’t worry,” he said knowingly. “That’s just a small part of me th