I'd just like to say a huge thank you to the readers who followed my story as I posted and took the time to write a review. It means the absolute world to me to read everyone's thoughts and you've all been so kind with your comments. Thank you for the bottom of my heart.

And finally, the last chapter...


"Can't we go any faster?" Clara sat behind Hoss on his sturdy part-Morgan mount, her arms around his waist, as they walked ever onwards towards their home. "Haven't the horses rested enough yet?"

"We'll get nearer to home before getting them moving," said Joe. "We're only an hour away now."

Hoss reached around and patted Clara's knee. "And don't forget ol' Chubb here is carryin' extra weight."

Joe's lipped puckered. "Yeah, Chubb's not used to carrying a heavy load, is he?"

Hoss slapped his hand at Joe who swerved out of his way, laughing.

Clara was quiet, and Joe glanced over at her, seeing how she was staring out across the hills, her expression a million miles away. Catching Hoss's eye, Joe nodded in Clara's direction.

Hoss winked and conjured a smile. "I bet ol' Adam's gonna be sitting in his chair, readin' one of them highfalutin' books when we get back."

There was no response from Clara but then she spied Joe watching her and cleared her throat. "We don't know that for certain."

Hoss looked out over Chubb's head at the road ahead. "No, but I know Adam. He's had some mighty hard knocks an' always bounces right back up again."

"Like what happened to him in the desert?"

Hoss turned his head to the side. "How do you know about that?"

"Uncle Joe said."

Joe met Hoss's stern frown with an embarrassed smile. "It sorta slipped out."

"What did happen to Papa in the desert, and why won't anyone tell me?"

Hoss let out a heavy breath. "It's up to Adam to tell you cos he don't much talk about it. But, what we do know is that he was mighty rattled by what happened. But that's what I'm trying to tell ya, he's been through it, an' come out stronger. Mark my words, it'll be the same this time."

They carried on in silence before Clara signalled that she needed to visit the bushes, and they all took the opportunity for a rest and a drink of water before they carried on.

After a few minutes, Clara reappeared from a clump of trees. Kicking at stones and twigs underfoot, she ambled slowly back to where Hoss and Joe stood by the horses. "Maybe we should have gone to the doctor's first."

Joe handed her his canteen. "We already told you that would add hours to our journey."

"But what if Papa's still there, with Doctor Martin?"

Holding the canteen's strap, she let it drop almost to the ground as she stared up at Joe, and it was only after he reached down to retrieve it and held it out to her again, that she took a gulp of water.

"That's a chance we have to take. We'll get you home, and if he's not there, we'll get cleaned up, have a good meal, and then tomorrow we'll go see him."

"Tomorrow? Can't we go . . ." Her words petered off as she saw the firm look on Joe's face. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We're all tired, we need a good night's sleep before we spend another two hours on horseback. Besides, Hop Sing will know how Adam is. I've no doubt Pa will have sent a message."

Clara looked at the ground. "What if he can't walk anymore?" She gulped. "What if he's . . ."

Joe looked over her at Hoss who shook his head and looked down at his feet.

"Don't even think that." Joe took back the canteen and wrapped the cord around his saddle horn. "Now come on, stop worrying, you can ride behind me for a time now." Pulling himself up into his saddle he waited as Hoss lifted Clara onto the back of Cochise.

Once Hoss had mounted up, the two men exchanged a look and Joe gathered up his reins. "I think it's time we showed Chubb who is the fastest horse on the Ponderosa. Hold on tight now." And with a loud 'yah' that frightened a roost of birds into the sky, Joe leaned forward and let Cochise fly.

~8~

The horses skidded to a halt in the yard. Clara slid off the back before Cochise had even come to a full stop, causing Little Joe to grab one of her arms and lower her the rest of the way to the ground. She took off at speed, but then recalled what Grandpa Ben always said about running in the house and came to an abrupt stop at the front door. She opened the door gently, unable to keep the excited smile from her face.

The room was quiet. Too quiet. The usual sounds of hustle and bustle and Hop Sing talking to himself in the kitchen were absent.

She walked a few steps into the room and noticed Grandpa Ben in his chair. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him. If he was here, then Papa should be too; Grandpa Ben wouldn't have left his eldest son alone in the doctor's house. But what if he was here alone because he didn't need to be in the surgery, because . . . As she drew closer to his chair, she saw his eyes were closed and his head rested on one of the chair's wings. His chest rose and fell in sleep, so Clara backed away, looking around for any sign of Adam. There were no books on the table; the table was clear of crockery so she couldn't count the number of place settings; his gun belt was curled up on the sideboard, but his hat was missing. Clara's breathing began to quicken, but then her eyes turned to the upper level and without another thought she ran to the stairs, pulling herself up the banister as she ran. She paused outside his closed door and then knocked. There was no answer, no sound from within. Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door onto an empty room. The bed was made, and it looked as though no one had been there for several days. His books were stacked in tidy piles on the bureau, his guitar propped up in the corner. There was no sign that the room had been recently occupied.

Clara gulped back air and sat slowly on the bed, her hand smoothing over the blanket. She could sense her thoughts spinning out of control. But then footsteps sounded outside the door, and Grandpa Ben was there, his eyes wide with shock at seeing her. Throwing herself off the bed, she ran into his arms as the tears came.

"What's this all about?" said Ben as he stroked her hair. "Hey?" He pushed her back to see her face. "Why the tears?"

"A . . . A . . . Adam, he's . . ."

Ben's face blossomed in understanding. "He's okay, Clara, he's outside."

Clara stopped crying and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "But he wasn't there when we rode in."

Ben laughed. "He'll have gone for a walk somewhere. He's trying to build up—"

But Clara was gone. Down the corridor and the stairs she ran, and out into the yard. She flew past Hoss and Joe who had put up their horses in the barn and were heading inside to face their father.

"Where're you going?" shouted Joe after her.

"To find Adam!" she shouted back.

"Do you want help looking?"

But Clara was too occupied with seeking her Papa to bother shouting back. She tried behind the barn, the bunkhouse, the garden where she found Hop Sing up a ladder twisting ripe apples off their tree.

"Missy home!"

She waved but didn't stop and only when she got back to the yard did she come to a halt, bending over with her hands on her knees to get some much needed air in her lungs. She paused to think, chewing on her bottom lip as she looked around for inspiration. There was nowhere she hadn't looked. Where could he be?

Grandpa Ben and her two uncles were on the porch. She shouted over to them. "I can't find him. What if he's fallen and can't get up, what if—"

"Have you tried the pond?" Ben cut into the increasingly frantic girl.

Clara's eyes widened. Why hadn't she thought of that? She ran to the porch and reached up to Ben. Bending down, he was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. And then she was running towards the forest, the sound of laughter fading in her ears.

~8~

Adam had been sitting too long, his back grown stiff from lack of movement. Pushing himself up on the chair arms, he gripped the wood hard as he groaned himself to his feet. He stood there for a few moments contemplating where to go. He had already walked to the barn and back today, and circled the corral with one hand on the fence as he went. He needed to push himself, drive himself a little harder.

His father was inside the house, working at his desk. Steadying himself with one hand on the window ledge and then the wall, Adam winced as he took the steps down to the ground and peered through the open front door. Ben was in his chair, fast asleep. Adam's cheek quirked into a half-smile. His father deserved a rest after everything he'd been put through recently. He closed the door quietly and walked out into the yard.

His eyes caught the gap in the trees that led down to the fishing pond. He wouldn't go all that way, but it would be a pleasant walk amongst the pines.

It wasn't long before he reached the aspen grove where the ground was blanketed in a sea of wildflowers. He circled the perimeter, listening to a solitaire singing its jumbling song somewhere high above him. But his back was starting to ache. He leaned against the trunk of the next tree he came to and let his eyes take in the beauty before him.

It rested and calmed him. His mind was consumed with thoughts of the child that had been so important in his life but who had now gone, headed back to the land of her birth with her real father. And he hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. He sighed and shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind. But they were swiftly replaced with the perplexing subject of his future. He had returned to the Ponderosa, and his family, after several failed years away. He didn't want to repeat that again. But the last year was so tied up with being a father, he feared the Ponderosa would hold too many inescapable memories for him. And all he wanted to do now was escape.

Something caught his eye on the edge of the clearing. He pushed away from the tree trunk and walked back to where the path led to the ranch. A few feet from the edge, almost lost amongst the blooms, was a basket. He stretched down to pick it up and found it was full of dead and wilted flowers. And then he realised. These were the flowers Clara had picked for the party, the flowers she had dropped when Tully scared her.

The dried blooms crumbled in his fingers and Adam knew what he needed to do, for now anyway. Clara had wanted to fill a few vases with flowers for the party, so he would finish what she had started. For her. For his girl.

Looking down at the profusion of flowers at his feet, he wondered whether he'd manage to get up again if he knelt amongst them. Well, there was only one thing for it. Gritting his teeth, he began to fold his knee beneath him.

Someone shouting his name pulled him up and around.

There, at the edge of the clearing, stood Clara. Her shoulders rose and fell as she gulped in air, her eyes bright as she observed him standing up to his knees in a wealth of wild blooms.

And then all of Adam's doubts and hurt and pain of the last few days seem to evaporate, because running towards him was the daughter he thought he'd lost. The basket tumbled to his feet as he opened his arms wide and she threw herself into his embrace. Adam squeezed her and kissed her hair and was engulfed by an overwhelming joy which made his heart beat wildly in his chest.

They stayed locked together for several moments but then he pulled back and grinned. Clara was smiling back as Adam held her face in his hands and kissed her hair once more. "I thought I had lost you, child, and yet . . ." He shook his head in wonder.

"Hoss and Joe found me."

"Those brothers of mine. They'll get hell from pa, but I've never been so grateful for those two rascals in my whole life." He laughed and held her close again, but then he grew serious. "But what of the count?"

Clara dropped her gaze. "He died."

He didn't know what to say. That was certainly the last thing he had expected, despite the count's age and evident infirmities. He knew he should offer some form of condolence, but in all honesty, Adam wasn't sure whether he was sorry at all. He took a breath to speak but Clara cut him off.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything." She smiled. "He was different at the end. I even, sorta liked him."

Adam placed a warm palm against her cheek. "I'm glad."

Clara tucked her arms around Adam, closed her eyes and breathed in his warmth. "I missed you, Papa."

Lines creased the sides of Adam's eyes as a smile played around his mouth. "That's the first time you've called me that."

"Ah, can I call you both Adam and Papa," Clara looked up at him through her lashes. "For a little while longer anyhow?"

Adam laughed and squeezed her close and they stood together in silence for a few moments. But then Clara spoke, her voice muffled and quiet against his chest.

"I thought you were dead when I saw you in the street. I got so scared. And then I thought you might never walk again."

Pulling back, Adam raised her chin with his finger. "I was lucky. I had someone in my life who was willing to sacrifice their own happiness for me." His face dimpled. "If it wasn't for you, I might not be standing here right now."

She smiled shyly, dropping her head.

"You're very special—you know that don't you?"

Clara couldn't meet his gaze. "Aw Adam."

He laughed. "And you know who else I owe my thanks too, and that's your father's surgeon. He's quite a man."

Showing relief that the conversation had moved away from her, Clara looked up at Adam. "He is. He tried to protect me from Oskar." Her top lip curled in derision.

"Oskar? That fop of a lawyer? What did he do?" Adam's face grew dark. "Did he hurt you?"

Shaking her head, Clara released herself from Adam's hold. "I think I hurt him more."

Adam's frown faded as he laughed. "That's my girl. Sounds like you have quite a story to tell."

She ginned and then noticed the basket at Adam's feet. "That's the basket I dropped." She stopped and picked it up.

"I thought I'd finish what you'd started and gather a few flowers for the house. And if we gather enough, we can encourage Hoss to start wooing Bessie Sue with them. He'll have no excuse not to." His brows rose. "Trouble is, once I'm down there, I'm not sure I'm getting up again."

Treading carefully into the blooms, Clara looked back at Adam. "Then why don't you let me. Which ones shall we pick?" She threw an expectant look at Adam.

He folded his arms and cocked his head to one side. "Well, Miss Clara Cartwright, why don't we start with the lilies?"

As Clara leaned down to harvest the flowers Adam pointed out to her, the solitaire started to sing once more. And then a second solitaire answered the call, and the two birds trilled to each other across the canopy. Adam and Clara looked up at the treetops and then at each other. The birds were no longer alone.

And neither were they.

The End