Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Bonanza.

Chapter One

The first thing I am aware of is a dull throbbing behind my eyes. I moan, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and trying to relieve the pain that is welling up with consciousness. I feel groggy and stiff, as though I've been laying here for weeks.

"It's about time you woke up," a worn, elderly voice says beside me.

In spite of the pain, I turn my head and open my eyes. An old woman sits in a rocking chair at my bedside, knitting. She lifts her gaze from her work a brief moment, catching my stare, before looking down again. "I suppose you have a headache."

"Where am I?" My voice comes out as a weak whisper, and I clear my throat, noticing now that it feels bruised.

"Talking will hurt you a bit," the woman says, "It isn't any wonder, after being nearly throttled to death."

I reach up and touch my neck. "Throttled?"

"You were robbed," the woman continues. "The thief, or thieves, choked you and then emptied your pockets and took your coat and hat. At least, that's what I gathered from when I found you all but dead on the street."

"Where am I?" I ask again with effort.

"In my guest room," the woman replies simply. Then she looks up at me and smiles. "I know what you meant, young man. You are in Sacramento. I hoped you would remember, but you likely lost some memory when you hit your head."

I turn my head again and stare at the ceiling, thinking. Why was I in Sacramento?

"What's your name, by the by?" the woman asks.

I open my mouth to answer; however I can produce none. Panic surges up inside me. "I don't know!"

"You don't know?" The woman clicks her tongue. "Dear me, that is a problem. What do you know?"

Perhaps it is her subdued reaction to my predicament that calms me enough to answer the question reasonably. "I know where Sacramento is. California."

I look to her for affirmation, and see her nod. "Uh, hmm. That's true. What else?"

I lick my lips nervously. "I don't know."

"Let's see if I can help," the woman says. She lays aside her knitting and clasps her hands thoughtfully. "You know how to speak, and how to think." She smiles at me as though that is all that mattered.

"I'd rather know who I am, where I came from, how I got here," I tell her irritably.

Her features darken. "I'm sure you do! However, I cannot help you with that, I'm afraid. You'll just have to do some investigating and figure it out yourself."

I nod dejectedly. That does seem the only way of it. "How should I start?"

"I think I have some ideas."

She gets me breakfast and checks the wound on the back of my head. "The swelling has gone down. It is hard to see it through this thick, dark hair of yours."

I am staring at myself in the mirror across the room. It is like staring at a stranger, and I shiver. Even if I do find out who I am, it will not be the same as remembering.

"It is very likely you'll regain your memory before long," the woman tells me as she sits back in her rocking chair to knit while I finish my meal.

I nod, then realize that I haven't asked the woman's name. She smiles when I ask her and says that I may call her Mary.

"I don't like my last name particularly," she tells me. "It is my maiden name, and I don't like to be reminded that I am an old spinster."

"It's hard to believe you were never married," I say honestly. She seems likable enough, and I can tell that she was once a very pretty young woman.

"It is hard, isn't it," she agrees with a smile. "Actually, I was almost married once, but he died before the wedding. I never found another man like Andrew."

She sees that I am finished eating and stands to take the tray. "Tomorrow you should be well enough to begin your search, I think. Would you like some books to keep you company?"

"Yes, thank you," I say with a smile. She starts to walk out. "Maybe you could tell me more about yourself, Mary, when you are not busy?"

She stops in the doorway, and turns to look back at me. "If you like, young man, I would be honored."

My clothes are rumpled because I have been sleeping in them the last two days. Mary apologizes, but tell her there was nothing she could have done about it. When she persists in her apologies, I change the subject.

"Where should I search for myself first?" I ask.

My trick works and she is immediately sidetracked. "Just by looking at you, I can tell you are not from the city."

"How so?" I ask, bewildered.

She smiles and takes my right hand. She turns it palm up. "Look at those calluses! You are a man who knows what a good day of hard work is. Also..." She leads me to the mirror. "...the upper part of your face is slightly paler than the lower half, suggesting that you usually wear a wide brimmed hat."

I smile. "That is certainly observant of you; however, lots of men in Sacramento wear wide brimmed hats."

"Yes," Mary agrees, "but not those who work hard physically like you do. If I were to guess, I would say you perhaps have worked on a ranch."

I gasp. A ranch. I remember a ranch! I cannot hide the excitement in my voice. "Yes, I remember working on a ranch!"

"Good, good!" Mary cries, nodding, "That is very good, young man. Now, we know for certain you do not live in Sacramento. Therefore, you must be here visiting."

I nod in eager agreement. "I must've gotten a room at a hotel, then."

"So, if I were you, I'd go to every hotel within fair walking distance of here and see if there is anyone who has not come to their room in the past two days."

"You're really something, Mary," I say. I lean down and kiss her on the cheek, causing her to blush.

"Now, now," she scolds lightly, but she is smiling. "Off with you. You must be back for supper at six, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," I agree, and start to walk out the door, but she catches my arm.

"Just a moment, you mustn't go about without a bit of money in case of an emergency. Here." She reaches in her pocket and brings out three dollars. "Take this."

"No, I can't," I protest as she tries to press it in my hand.

"I insist! We may be friends, young man, but I'm still you're elder by some years."

I sigh and take the money, shoving it in my pocket. "Thank you, Mary, but you will get it back, I promise."

"Don't make any such promise," Mary says, and pushes me out the door. "Off with you! You have an identity to find!"

The first three hotels prove that there are many people in Sacramento who go "missing". None of the names sounded remotely familiar, and by mid afternoon, I feel quiet defeated. How am I ever going to discover who I am?

As I walk along, I pass by a police station. An idea strikes me, and I step inside.

"Excuse me," I say, "I'd like to report a missing person."

"Oh?" The man at the desk does not sound the least bit interested, but he slides a piece of paper to me. "Fill out this form."

"Oh, but you don't understand," I say, "You see, I am the missing person."

The man stares at me blankly. "Aren't you a little old to get yourself lost?"

I try to explain. "I seem to have amnesia, and I cannot remember my name. I wondered if anyone has reported a missing person."

A slow grin comes over the officer's face. "Are you trying to pull some kind of joke?"

"No, I'm being perfectly honest, now if..."

"I don't have time for the likes of you, okay? Now get out of here before I escort ya out!"

My heart sinks and I leave as he asked.

I walk aimlessly for some time, searching for more hotels.

"Hey, Hoss!" a voice shouts behind me. I pause, the name sounding vaguely familiar.

Turning, I see the man who yelled across the street. I stare at him. Something about him is familiar, but I can't place it. Hope rises in my chest, and I am about to shove through the crowded street to ask the man if he recognizes me, when...

"I'm here," another voice calls. I look to it, and see a big man with a tall white hat. He too looks like someone I possibly remember.

The tall man makes his way across the street, and I watch, people whirling around me. I don't notice them. All I can think is, I know them, I know them, I know them...

I shall make every effort to post a new chapter biweekly.