Love Hurts

by Sadie Spinner

November 2003

 

It was towards the end of a very warm day as the children in the small schoolhouse were listening to an oration by their substitute teacher, Mrs. Petunia Pompfrhy.

 

Mrs. Pompfrhy was an exceedingly plump individual; she had arrived in Virginia City with her husband Clarence to establish what she deemed a much-needed proper clothing store. Trouble was no one in the rough and tumble, half wild boomtown or surrounding area had Mrs. Pompfrhy’s eclectic or exotic taste in finery. While Mrs. Pompfrhy had no real need for income as she was from very good stock back in New York, she, never the less, was determined to make this work and bring a little of the more sophisticated items to these poor unrefined, deprived citizens.

 

While the store languished in limbo Mr. Clarence Pompfrhy was suddenly stricken oddly enough, seeing as they were smack dab in the biggest silver mining Bonanza ever discovered, with gold fever and left the very ample Mrs. Pompfrhy to mind the store, promising to return forthwith. That was, however, going on 3 years now.

 

The problem this day was that Mrs. Pompfrhy was not in the habit of being interrupted, and as she droned on and on, one little fellow with the most unruly golden brown curls, was beginning to wiggle and squirm in his seat tapping and shuffling his feet. She shot a hot glare at him. "Hurumph, I might have known. That child again!" she thought. Seems one more thing she was not good at was names, but that child, the one with the big hazel green eyes, was hard to ignore. "That one, what ever is his name? Little-wee-small-Paul? Oh pitash! I shall ignore the little troublemaker; he never has anything of importance to offer other than to disrupt things."

 

In truth, there was, it seemed, a rather large turn over in teachers in the half year that the youngest of Ben Cartwright’s sons had begun attending the Virginia City School, the latest deserter being a Mr. Obadiah Francis Boom. Seems he got called home to New Hampshire quite unexpectedly leaving in the middle of the week. No one on the board was aware he even came from New Hampshire.

 

The School board was hard pressed to find a replacement in such short a time, so it was with great reluctance they accepted the gracious, if somewhat questionable, offer from Mrs. Pompfrhy.

 

“I shall be delighted to impart wisdom to these eager and innocent minds,” she had clucked as she swept into and over ran the board meeting. Her stature and stature, were more than they wanted to deal with so they reluctantly agreed, noting she had indeed attended Mrs. Harriet Witherspoon’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, graduating second in her class, receiving highest honors in deportment and etiquette.

 

So it was that Mrs. Pompfrhy came to be reading a long soliloquy, which very few of the  children in the room could, even if they tried, comprehend. Adding to the brewing absurdity of her selection was the fact that her voice seesawed between a falsetto screech and that of sand paper on rough-hewn pine boards. Most of the young ladies were, understandably, very impressed with her. She doted on the feminine little twitters, giving pointers and manners lessons often. The little gentlemen, of which she seemed to find few, were her pets also; the rest she just deemed ruffians and scoundrels.

 

The child desperately trying to get her attention was the ringleader as far as she was concerned. He was a dreadful, willful child. His ability to disrupt, and cause chaos was astounding. This she attributed to the fact he had no proper instruction at home, having lost his mother. Unfortunately, he was being raised by a bunch of Men, and one Heathen. There was at least one bright spot in this. The oldest child in the family was a charming, attractive, well-mannered young man, whom she had the pleasure of speaking with on occasion. He was almost seventeen and was leaving shortly to study back in Boston. Petunia hoped to speak with him at least once more about his studies. He was very well versed in literature and had a great appreciation for poetry and music.

 

Little Joe Cartwright was getting just a bit desperate. This horrid old hen was determined to make his life miserable every chance she got. She never ignored Winston when he asked to go to the outhouse, but it seemed whenever Joe asked, she made a big deal, often embarrassing him. Well, not today. Today, he was at the end of his rope. Part of his courage stemmed from the fact that his Pa, who was also a stickler on manners and deportment, was up at the line shack with Jake, the foreman, and would not be back home until tomorrow, which, in Joe’s mind, was plenty of time to smooth out her ruffled feathers.

 

Joe tried once more to get her attention in the respectful and correct way she demanded. All around him, the rest of the boys, some of the brasher girls, were becoming aware of his growing frustration, and all knowing Little Joe well, some were speculating on just how much longer he was going to be able to contain his temper. They did not have long to wait.

 

Little Joe Cartwright, eyes blazing, rose from his seat and marched up to the front of the room. Mrs. Pompfhry lowered her book, peering over her spectacles, and down over her large expanse.

 

“Hey, Lady!" Joe demanded. There was dead silence.

 

Her plump, lily white hands with her dimpled knuckles dropped her book, her mouth gaped.

 

To Petunia's horror the nasty little boy was standing in front of her, legs crossed, holding himself in the most brazenly immodest, vulgar way. His upper lip was dotted with sweat. His face was growing red.

 

“Wha I got ta do?? Pee  wite' hwere!!! . Afore' you let me go ta the outhouse... ta show ya I ain’t kiddin???”

 

It was all too much! The heat! The shock! Mrs. Petunia Pompfrhy, engulfed by an overwhelming case of the vapors, reeled forward, almost on top of the boy, before she caught herself and sagged down to the floor in a dead faint. There was a minute of stunned silence. No one moved. Little Joe Cartwright stood there with his brows raised, his eyes wide, his face registering complete disbelief; then everything came apart at the seams. Wanda started screaming!

 

“Ohhh....Mmmmmy You.. Killllled Mrs. Pompfrhy.  You killed her!"

 

One by one the other girls started screaming. Soon they were all screaming and holding their heads. Some seemed ready to faint themselves.

 

All around him pandemonium ran rampant. Joe drew back his head standing there in the middle of all the chaos wondering what ever had he done; he just had to pee.

 

At last one of the older girls named Margaret took charge, sending all the boys outside, and getting the other girls under control. She sent Maybell to fetch Dr. Martin, but Mrs. Pompfrhy was already starting to come around. The main problem now was how to get her off the floor and still maintain her dignity. There was so much of her. No one was quite sure where to grab. Her voluminous skirt and yards of petticoats made it all the more perplexing. How might they go about it without further upsetting her? Finally they managed, with great delicacy and much sheer effort, to get her sitting up against the front of her desk. That was the best they could do. Her spectacles were sitting all askew on her large nose. Her obviously un-naturally enhanced sort of orange sort of barn red hair was sliding sideways down over her left eye. She was fanning her ashen face with her pudgy hand, moaning, piteously.

 

“Gulp! D-did I . Do. . That?” Little Joe looked in through the window.

 

Shaking his head, Joe ran off to the outhouse suddenly reminded what had started this mess. As he did, he had a bad feeling about the outcome of this latest mishap.

 

It was several hours later that young Adam Cartwright stood in front of the now composed but still quite irate Mrs. Pompfrhy as she expounded on the disgusting, vulgar most loathsome actions and behavior of his little brother. Adam listened politely, nodding, when appropriate, shaking his head in utter disbelief, tisking in disapproval as she ranted. She went into great lengths about his manners, but was truly unable to tell Adam just exactly what Joseph had said and done to upset her so. It was, she assured him, of a very private nature and she, as a lady, could not speak of such anatomy parts, especially with a young man.

 

“Yes, well Ma'am, I am sure my father will speak at length with my brother on this matter. I can assure you he does not in any way condone such behavior, and my brother will be taken to task in a very proper and judicial manner as soon as he returns. Now with your permission, I shall take him home.

 

“Harrumph! I shall be demanding the school board convene in an emergency meeting to address the matter of his expulsion from this school at once! I shall not let this incident pass without it being resolved to my satisfaction!”

 

Petunia Pompfrhy drew herself up with her most superior air. Peering down her nose, she was full of indignation and self-righteousness. She waved her hand at him in a dismissive manner, a dour and unyielding expression on her pear shaped face making her jowls even more pronounced.

 

Little Joe, who had been standing slightly behind his older brother, poked his head around to stare up at Adams face. Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. Then gathering himself up, he quietly and with great self-control, replied, “Please believe me, Mrs. Pompfrhy. I can assure you that will not be necessary. When my father speaks to Joseph, Joseph will see the error of his ways, and Joseph will apologize appropriately to you tomorrow in front of the class.”

 

Adam lowered his thick, black lashes in a shy and respectful manner. Joe looked from Adam to Mrs. Pompfrhy and back. Adam prayed Joe would get back behind him before he lost control and went into gales of laughter at the very thought of the scene that had been described to him.

 

At last Adam cleared his throat and while placing his gray Stetson back on his head, he nodded respectfully.

 

“I shall take him now." Reaching back he grabbed Joe by the arm and pretended to escort him roughly towards his waiting horse. Placing Joe firmly in the saddle and mounting up behind him, Adam gathered up the reins and headed home at a sharp clip. For at least the first three miles neither spoke. Joe just sat there in front of Adam trying to calculate how much he might be able to persuade his big brother to dodge the bullet for him when their father got wind of this.

 

“We-ll you sure are full of surprises, I’ll say that for you, kid.”

 

“Awww Adam, sheezh.”

“Watch your mouth, or when we get home I won’t wait for Pa. I’ll wash your mouth out myself.”

 

“O-ok- ok really. A-Adamm I just, well ..”

 

“Well what?"

 

“She..”

 

“She who?”

 

""Miz Puffy”

 

“That's Mrs. Pompfrhy to you, boy.”

 

“Yes, Adam "

 

Joe hung his head for a moment, hoping his penitent crestfallen pose would soften his older brother.

 

“Adam, didn’t ya never had a go so bad. Ya...well ."

 

“What has that got to do with your very rude behavior, and almost unforgivable degree of disrespect in the classroom today. Your education is, whether you like it or not, a very important matter.”

 

“Will you pleezze wisten to me? ” Joe begged turning as far as he could to face his brother.

 

“Sigh, all right Joe,” Adam halted Sport looking right into Joe’s face. I’m listening.”

 

“Miz P- I mean,” he grinned sheepishly; Adam's brow rose in the exact manner his father's did at such times.

 

“Mrs. Pompfrhy. Well, she don’t like me.”

 

“Doesn’t like you.” Adam corrected.

 

“There, see, even you know it!”

 

“Know what?”

“That Mrs. Pompfrhy don't like me,” he explained, stretching out his hands in front of him then dropping them to his lap.

 

Adam pushed his hat back; his black hair tumbled over his forehead. Drawing in a deep breath, he ran his hand over his face; sometimes the circles Joe’s mind could lead you in made a person plum dizzy.

 

“Never mind. What is the point you are taking the long way to make?”

 

Joe frowned; now it was his turn to be confused. "Adam, sometimes you gets me all foouzzed an' mixed up!”

 

“Me?”

 

“All I wuz sayin' wuz what she.. Sigh, Mrs. Pumpfeeee won’t listen to me..  . Like taday,” he bit his lip. He really was upset over what had happened and, in truth, was genuinely scared.

 

“What about today, little buddy?” Adam gently coaxed as he urged Sport forward in an easy walk.

 

Joe played with Sport's mane, running his fingers through it before he began.

 

Softly, he tried again.

 

“A-adam, I jes had to go pee so bbbad, and I raisded my hand. I did, lotsa times, and I tried to be still, but I had to goooo, so I wavded at her 'cause maybe wif her readin' an all, maybe she didn’t see me, bbbut she did. I know she dided ”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“'Cause she said,” and with great exaggeration he did an imitation as best he could of her. She said, "Harrumphed!!” he nodded his head in dramatic fashion.

 

"Then she look-ted wight at me! I sawed her!”

 

“Saw her?"

 

"Uh-huh"

 

"Then?” Adam prodded

 

“Then she still patended not to see me.”

“Joe, are you sure?”

 

“Sure I’m sure, “ he grumbled.

 

“Then what?”

 

“W-ell I guess I umm gots…"

 

“You got mad, didn’t you?”

 

“Yyeah......” Joe admitted hunching his little shoulders; his temper was forever causing him trouble with his Pa.

 

“Well what exactly did you do? I mean you must have done something quite dreadful. She fainted, for heaven sakes!” Adam pulled his arm around Joe’s waist just a little tighter in what he hoped was an encouraging, sympathetic way.

 

“Well, are you... gonna holler ?”

 

“I don’t know until you tell me.”

 

“But then it'll be too late.”

 

“Oh Little Joe, just tell me!”

 

Adam was beginning to lose some of his patience; he had promised himself to steadfastly be as patient and caring with his baby brother as he could to ease the up-coming separation, knowing how much it was going to hurt and how he would miss him.

 

“I'm tryin' ta, we’ll when, sigh! Mrs. Pumfree wouldn't listen to me I got mad, an - an I getted up and went to the front where she wuz readin' and I had ta gooo reeeellly bad, so I-I crowssed my legs, an—an—I, well I –umm guess – I kind-a did this.” He showed his brother just what he had done.

 

Leaning over Joe's shoulder Adam commented “Uhh_huh. That's it?”

 

“W-ell I wuz mad, and I-I hollered real loud . . .Hey Lady!”

 

Adam’s brows shot up at the mental picture Joe had just created. (Hey Lady? Oh Brother!)

 

“Wha I got ta do?? . Pee  wite' hwere!!! . Afore' you let me go ta the outhouse... ta show ya' I ain’t kiddin'???”

He finished in a soft, regretful voice then added, "It just sorta camed out, Adam. Adam? . Pa…pa’s gonna be real mad at me huh. I mean I fainted the teacher…Huh."

 

“Well, little Buddy, I can safely say he will not be particularly pleased with this latest turn of events.”

 

“Huh?” Joe scrunched up his nose then scratched his head.

 

"Yeah, Little Joe. He's going to be mad, I’m afraid.”

 

“Me tooo!”

 

They rode further with neither speaking. Adam tried to figure a way to help Joe out of this one; he had no great love for the pompous, rotund Mrs. Petunia Pompfrhy himself. As a matter of fact he heartily disliked her. They had just about reached the ranch. Joe was jabbering on incessantly about all the horrid things the teacher did. Adam was getting just a little tired, his head was spinning, when it dawned on him Joe was asking him a question that drew his attention. He vaguely remembered something about a promise to help Joe.

 

"To be honest.... Little Buddy, there aren't a whole lot of options left here. What would you like me to do Joe, tell Pa to spank me instead of you?”

 

It was his little brother's response that sent up the red flag

 

“OH. Realllyy. Adammmm you will .. Thank you ...thank you .. I love you Adam." With that he turned and flung his arms around Adams neck and kissed him all over his face.

 

“Uhh Hhuuu Uhh Joe, wait. I uhh stop.. Stop Joe   I I..I,” but he could not pull Joe’s arms apart nor could he stop the onslaught of sloppy wet kisses, until his face was fairly dripping. Joe leaned back, his eyes beaming with admiration and love.

 

“Joe?" Adam shook his head unable to think of a single thing to say.

 

“I knew it! You're the bestest big brover in the whole wide world!”

 

And with that Joe wiggled around and slid down to the ground, leaving Adam totally flabbergasted at what he had just unintentionally agreed to.

 

Somehow his promise to help Joe and his offhanded offer had become cemented in Joe's mind as gospel, and Adam found himself on this huge hook. “How in the heck did he do that?” he leaned forward resting his arms on the horn of his saddle, blinking in amazement at his baby brother's ability at times like this.

Hoss Cartwright, their middle brother, came ambling out of the house with a funny little smile on his face. He saw Adam just sitting on Sport, a look of wonder on his face, staring off into space. Hoss reached up with his good arm, as his other was in a sling, having badly sprained his elbow a few days ago helping to wrestle a particularly ornery young bull into doing what they needed him to. This was part of the reason for the present problem facing Adam. Hoss was not with Joe in school this last week, which made it that much harder on all concerned.


 

"Howdy, Adam. Are you alright?"

 

"Huh, I.. Uhh.. Yess...no...Well..Maybe...I'm...not sure," Adam mumbled as he slid off Sport and led him toward the barn. Hoss followed scratching his head.

 

"Well, Little Joe just came racin’ in just  bustin’ at the seams, about that ole' Miz Pompfrhy and something 'bout you and a promise and how you are the  very bestest big brother in the world. Hope he still thinks so after ya tell him yer leaving for Boston later this summer."

 

Adam was unsaddling Sport still quite preoccupied. Then he stopped and re- saddled the horse and led him back to the hitching post.

 

“Adam?” Hoss followed him out. "You sure yer ok?"

 

Putting his arm over his younger brother’s shoulder, they headed into the house.

 

"Hoss, we gotta talk."

 

"Ok. If ya say so, Adam."

 

Chapter 2

 

Ben Cartwright had never made it to the line shack. It was a very warm day for spring and Ben and Jake stopped because Buck had picked up a stone a few miles from the turnoff. Ben removed the small stone. Relieved there was no bruise, he set Buck's hoof back down. He looked up to see Jake accidentally step into a ground nest of Yellow-jacket wasps. It was spring and those devilish Yellow jackets were in a very hostile mood. After what seemed an eternity Ben was able to get Jake into a cool stream a few feet away. Jake had been stung so many times that Ben was worried. Jake's face was already growing puffy. He was moaning, and twitching,

 

"Jake, Jake! I have to get you into town, I don't like the way you look!" He struggled to help his foreman move to his horse.

 

"Well Boss, I kinda don't like the sound o' that. I know I ain't perty but ya don't gotta go sayin' as much," Jake bravely tried to joke.

 

"This is no time for jokes, you have to see the doctor, and fast."

 

"Come ta think a it, I ain't feelin sooo gooodd" he moaned.

 

“Can you ride?"

 

"I can try."

 

Ben pushed him up, then, getting on Buck, he took the reins of Jake's horse.

 

"Hold on as best you can."

 

With that they headed off as fast as they dared towards town. It was a very nerve wracking trip. Jake weaved back and forth in his saddle almost falling numerous times. Ben had to catch him once, as he was halfway to the ground. Jake moaned, his face getting puffier. His arms were beginning to swell.

 

"Boss...?"

 

"Yes Jake?"

 

"Mumm ssorry"

 

"Don't think about it. It wasn't your fault."

 

But Jake had slumped forward and hung on to his horse’s neck as they rode.

 

Riding into town, Ben became aware of the funny stares and obvious whispers as he headed down the main street towards Dr. Martin's. Arriving at the good doctor’s, he helped Jake down and they hurried in only to find out Dr. Martin was somewhere else. It had something to do with the school, and some kind of calamity.

 

"Great! That's all I need." Ben grumbled as Jake twisted and wriggled in pain from all the stings. Mrs. Martin was doing her best to soothe and treat him till her husband got back.. Ben fidgeted for a long time, then shoving his hat on, he went out in search of the doctor. By the time he found him, he had been stopped, and told at least a dozen different times with a dozen different interpretations and twists about the event at the school. This did little to reduce his already agitated state of mind. Nor did it begin to sooth, much less defuse, his quickly rising, famous temper.

 

Dr. Martin and Ben arrived back at his office; Ben hurriedly ushered him in, giving him a brief description of Jake's condition.

 

"Well Ben, first things first, let me get a look at Jake and then we can talk about that other matter, of which you are obviously now aware."

 

"So help me, I'm going to.... Oh that boy! Wait till I get my hands on him."

 

Pulling down his spectacles, Dr. Martin looked over his shoulder briefly and peered at Ben. A small, thin smile formed on his lips, then he returned to the business at hand.

 

"You did the right thing, Ben, in getting him here as fast as you did. Seems some people have a really bad reaction to this many stings, and frankly I don't know how he stood the pain."

 

"Huh, oh yeah, sure." Ben muttered, not at all paying attention to the words, his mind was on other things.

 

A short while later Paul Martin turned then squinted at him; Jake was sleeping as the doctor had given him a powder.

 

"Probably gonna have to amputate at the neck," he stated solemnly, wiping his hands and watching Ben.

 

"Oh, sure, go ahead, just let me know how much I owe you."

 

"Gonna take an arm and leg too."

 

"Uhuh"

 

All of a sudden Ben whirled around and gaped.

 

"WHAT DID YOU SAY??" he roared.

 

"Welcome back, Ben.” Paul chuckled.

 

"Very funny!"

 

Paul Martin looked into the now scowling face and thunderous dark eyes of his friend. For an instant he was sorry he had said what he did, but the temptation was just too great. After all he was also a human, as well as a doctor.

Paul gestured to a chair.

 

"Ben, sit down for heaven sakes, and relax. You have yourself worked up into a fair state of frenzy, and I have no intention of treating you too."

 

Ben Cartwright sat; none too pleased, in the chair Paul indicated.

 

One of Ben Cartwright's stares could wither the strongest determination and intimidate the toughest of men. It did not so much as faze Paul Martin; he acted as if the man in the chair was but a lad.

   

"Ok, now that the real crisis is past, let me see if I can...Hummmm...."

Paul paused briefly.

 

Over the last few years he'd had to tell Ben very difficult and painful news, had to reassure him, comfort him, and stand by him. This somewhat delicate and, to his mind, silly business…well, he wasn’t quite sure how to approach it.

 

"Paul, what is it you don’t want to tell me?"  Ben was getting more nervous than angry. Now the tables had turned. Suddenly fear sprang into Ben's face. Maybe he had misunderstood the tales that had bombarded him. He got up and paced the room turning on Paul.

 

 "I demand to know, right now, what is the problem with my son is?"

 

"The problem...is not with your son, sort of more about your son."

 

Paul began in a gentle voice. The image in his mind kept threatening to make him burst out laughing, but he had a moral obligation as the town doctor and a member of the school board to maintain a certain amount of confidentiality and decorum when it came to discussing patients and their problems. This particular problem called for a great amount of discretion on his part.

 

"Will you speak plain, man!"

 

"I'm trying to, Ben. Honestly, I am!"

 

Ben crossed his arms over his massive chest; it was heaving as he fought to remain quiet and listen.

 

"Well, it seems, that our new temporary teacher..." he paused to wipe his brow. "Well... it seems she...  it really is quite warm today, and she well ... she is of ample volume... so to speak."

"If you are referring to her enormous size, I agree. But that still does not tell me how this has anything to do with my son, Joseph!"

"I’m getting to that." Paul licked his lips. "Ben, would you like a cup of coffee?"

 

"Not really, but I can tell if I don't agree, you will never get to the point. So, yes, I would like a cup of coffee."

 

Mrs. Martin appeared just then with the promised cups, giving her husband a funny look and nod before she discretely slipped out. At this point Ben was just about to explode in a wild rage that would have leveled the entire town of Virginia City in minutes leaving nothing but dust and rubble.

 

“Paul, I am a man of limited patience of late, and this has just about pushed me past my limit.”

 

“Uh, yess, about our dear Mrs. Pompfrhy….”

 

The dark brows over the even darker eyes shot up in the most incredulous expression.

 

“Our .. What?”

 

"I ...I am a physician you know, I treat all my patients equally.”

 

“Ohhh, Paul, for goodness sakes.”

 

“Well,......  I do." Paul drew himself up, readjusted his waistcoat then continued. "As I was saying, it seems Mrs. Pompfrhy was having a difficult time with the heat and the children. Some of them were a little restless, and she began to read to keep them quiet so she could maintain control."


 

“Paul, will you please get to the end of this!”

 

The big man was now standing over the doctor with a look of such frustration that even cool, calm Dr. Martin took a step back and cleared his throat, a little unsure.

 

“Petunia, was in the middle of her reading when a particular young lad tried to get her attention.”

 

“And whom might this lad be?” Ben narrowed his eyes. His lips were in that unmistakable, thin tight line.

 

"Oh, a real cute little fellow, big hazel green eyes, curly hair. Smart as a whip."

"Yes.... And?”

 

"Well, he really isn’t a bad little boy. He, well just is, shall we say, is very good at verbalizing...and quite... animated."

 

"What did he do!?"

 

Ben's voice was becoming increasingly strained; his hands were on his hips, his entire  body tense.

 

"He asked her to let him go to the...umm... to relive himself..."

 

Ben began to seethe.

 

"In a rather conspicuous, unmistakable manner, his gestures, I’m afraid left little to one's imagination."

 

Ben threw up his hands and growled!  "So help me!"

 

"It really wasn't exactly meant to come across the way it did, I'm sure, but Petunia...well, she is rather overly sensitive to..." Paul Martin also gave up. There was no easy way to get around this.

 

"She fainted... Ben... fainted dead away.... Why, it was a miracle she just missed falling right on top of the boy!"

 

"She what??" Ben snapped his eyes growing hard.

 

"Yes, Ben, fainted, in front of the entire class. Just whoosh KABOOM!" he swept his arms in a large arc, "and down she went!!!"

 

Ben opened his mouth but nothing came out. His face went from his normal tan to a dark red.

 

"Now, now.  Don’t lose your temper. All things considered, it turned out ok. She wasn't hurt, except for her pride which matches her  ... never mind."

 

"And Joseph? What did he have to say for himself?" Ben hissed.

 

"Nothing. What could he say. He was just as surprised as the rest of them.  More so, I'm sure."

 

"Well, he will have plenty to say to me when I get a hold of him, I guarantee that. Did he apologize at least?"

 

"As best he could, from what I heard. But Petunia was in a fair state for sometime after it.  Adam came by and picked him up; I'm sure Adam did his best to smooth things over before heading home. I expect they are there by now. I imagine he was able to dissuade her from having Joe expelled."

 

Paul was taken off guard at the roar that echoed in his ear.

 

"EXPELLED!"

 

Then Ben’s big frame slumped into a chair, his face buried in his work worn hands. A shuttering sigh shook his entire being.

 

“It isn’t that bad, Ben. Take a few deep breaths and you will feel better." Paul patted him on the shoulder reassuringly.

 

“I will feel a whole lot better when I have finished a very serious and necessary discussion with my youngest son, one I am sure he will not view with the same feelings.” Standing abruptly, he walked briskly to the door. Just before he went out he said, “Please see that Jake gets whatever he needs. I'll send one of the other hands in to get him tomorrow if you think he will be recovered enough.”

 

“Most assuredly he should be much better by then. I'll see to it he has a quiet night. Oh, and Ben, try not to let this little calamity get blown out of proportion by the time you get home.”

 

He winked but Ben did not answer with anything more than a great “Harrumph” and jammed on his hat, he left, shutting the door rather firmly behind him.

 

The dark, thunderous scowl and glower on Ben’s face effectively kept any further comments and citizens of Virginia City at bay as he found Buck, mounted up and headed out of town.

 

Chapter 3

 

“Adam!! You PA-WROMISED!” Little Joe whined, his eyes filling with shinny, ready to shed tears.

 

“Look, Little Joe, I don’t know what you think you heard me say, but one thing I do not remember is promising you that!”

 

Adam was pacing the great room running his hands through his hair; his dark hazel eyes were clouded with indecision, mixed with uncertainty.

 

“Noooo . you did (sniffle); You did.” The small boy worriedly twisted his hands in front of him, the luminous tears ever closer to falling. He waited. Then his ever ready-to-pop temper began to bubble to the top.

 

“Adam! You did TOO!"

 

Joe stamped his little foot. “Pa... Says...a Cartwright.... Never goes back on a pawromise! Never!” He folded his arms across his little chest, now glaring, the tears replaced by a determined pout.

 

Adam could see this situation was going from bad to worse. The last thing he needed was to have his father walk into the middle of this. As it was getting late, he tried another tactic.

 

“Let's sleep on it and see if we can come up with.... A better solution...ok, little buddy?”

 

Adam smiled mildly, hoping this would defuse his brother.

 

Hoss, ever the peacemaker, jumped in with hopes of getting these two very determined brothers of his to back down and relax. “Yeah, besides Little Joe, Pa ain’t due back till tomorra' any how.  Remember, he went to the line shack with Jake?”

 

It took just a minute for Joe to remember this. Suddenly a great big grin spread over his little face; his eyes sparkled once again, this time with relief, not the promise of heart wrenching tears.

 

“Now, that’s better...Ain't it Adam?” Hoss replied pleased, with his effort.

 

The eldest of Ben's sons just shook his head; Adam somehow felt this was not going to be the last of this twisted mess.

 

Little Joe thought had had nothing to worry about...so he didn’t!

 

“Where's Hop Sing?’ Joe asked suddenly aware there was no noise from the kitchen.

 

“Dunno, Hey! Hop Sing! Where are ya?” Adam called out, but his voice only echoed. No one answered.

 

“That’s funny.  I don’t remember Pa saying anything about Hop Sing going anywhere? Did he say anything to you?”

 

Both younger boys shook their heads.

 

“Well, isn’t this a pretty kettle of fish?” Adam put his hands on his hips furrowing his brow.

 

“A-adam, please don’t look like that.”

 

“Look like what?” he muttered wracking his already overloaded brain trying to remember what his father might have said in reference to the absence of their cook.


 

“An what kettle? Ya can’t put fish in a kettle. It's fer tea; an we don’t got no fish. Why are ya talkin' 'bout fish? Is Hop Sing gone ta get fish?”

 

His baby brother peppered him with questions.

 

It was at this point that the front door of the Ponderosa ranch house banged open. Adam, Hoss and Little Joe Cartwright all jumped in what, if it could have been measured, was probably close to ten feet collectively.

 

The ominous presence standing there had glittering brown, almost black, eyes. It had to be at least 10 feet tall or at least seemed to be. His face was a dark, sort of odd color. His lips were drawn up tight, a low growling noise was coming from him, and his eyes pinned each boy one by one.

 

Hoss slipped behind Adam, swallowing a great gulp of air. Little Joe slipped behind Hoss, trembling, as he hid his face.

 

Adam was left to face the man. He sensed his brothers cowering behind him, leaving him alone, out on this very thin limb. One small slip of the tongue or ill advised gesture, could and would send them all tumbling down into the pit of overwhelming parental fury.

 

Stepping all the way into his house, the door swiftly shut behind Ben.

 

Adam instinctively stepped back in an effort to distance himself from his father's reach, but he was momentarily stopped by the large body at his back. Adam's sudden backwards movement caught Hoss off guard. He lost his balance. The void this created resulted in Adam falling over backwards. Hoss toppled as Adam hit him, and the domino effect continued until all three Cartwright boys lay tangled together on the floor. There was a moment of stillness then a great scraping as they fought to untangle themselves and scramble to their respective feet, getting as far from their father as possible in the process.

 

The moment of truth had arrived.

 

"Joosseepphh." The word was drawn out while spoken with deadly control.

 

Little Joe Cartwright felt the blood drain from his face. His eyes went wide, and he swallowed. His lip quivered. The distance between him and either of his brothers seemed to be an ocean's width; he was left standing out in the open.

 

"Boy!" His father was shaking his finger at him; Joe tore his eyes from his father, letting them briefly flash to his oldest brother.

 

"A-adam," came the whisper, (gulp) "Y-y-ou.. P-w-r-ommm…"

 

Ben swung his fiery glare to his eldest, the one who was supposed to see this kind of absolutely unacceptable thing did not happen in his absence.

 

"Promised? Promised what?" came the dark foreboding question, to which Adam had no real or rational answer, or so he thought.

 

Adam just could not ignore the little boy quaking a few feet from him. After all, he said he would do his best to help Joe. How much help he might be, still remained to be seen. Closing his eyes briefly, struggling for composure, Adam blinked.

 

"I asked you a question, young man! What promise did you make?"

 

Little Joe drew in and held his breath; what would Adam dare say?

 

"W-well I did promise Joe I would help him explain, sort of, you know, about what happened." Adam smiled weakly.

 

Hoss also took a deep breath. This was getting into treacherous water, and Hoss had the feeling, one or both of his brothers were going down. There was nothing he could do to help, just watch and pray.

 

"Yes, do that! Explain to me! Just what exactly did happen? And how does your promise fit into this?" Ben barked, his eyes snapping.

 

Both Ben and Joe watched Adam as he formulated his thoughts into carefully worded statements.

 

"There was this rather delicate misunderstanding at school today,” he hesitated for a fraction of a second before he dared continue. “ I was not there to witness it, but I did get a full account. (Oh boy did I)... it..it really was….”

 

Adam looked at his father and shook his head; this was not going to go away without some sort of painful consequence.

 

Little Joe watched his brother's struggle, fearful he was not going to live up to the aforementioned promise, and he blurted out. "Papa, Adam...he...he…Said you should spank him! Not me!”

 

"He what?" Ben asked to be sure he heard right.

 

Adam at this point was turning a rather interesting combination of colors. Ben narrowed his eyes, and took a few steps in Adams direction.

 

"Oh he did, did he?"

 

"W-well... no. I mean...well... yes... well not exactly." Adam stammered, pulling back.

 

Ben Cartwright’s fuse burned dangerously close to its end.  His saturation point reaching all he could take by this time. The all to many versions of this ridiculous, and absolutely unacceptable little episode had worn away his already thread bare patience.

 

His eldest son was shortly heading for Boston and school for three years on his own. What in heavens name would befall him if he found himself making such rash and childish promises that he had no intention of keeping! In this state of mind, Ben made a rather eventful decision.

 

"I see. Very well." He was suddenly at Adam's side. He gripped his son's upper arm vice-like in his right hand as he was propelling Adam towards the stairs.

 

"In that case, young man, come with me!"

 

"W-w-what?

 

"Don't argue with me. You heard me."

 

"N-noo... you're not serious?"

 

Adam was completely, utterly, stunned, at this announcement. His downright cluttered mind figured his father was doing this to get some point across to his baby brother; after all, his father knew he had promised to watch over Joe. Adam played along, knowing when they got upstairs he would be able to smooth things over and maybe lessen the degree of Joe's punishment. It was important to have Joe see that his actions had far reaching consequences, consequences he might not even understand.

 

"Oh- ok ...Pa.. Yes sir," he contritely answered.

Ben pushed Adam before him up the stairs; Adam was a little surprised at the  forcefulness with which his father was pushing. Hoss and Joe watched in complete disbelief, turning to each other and swallowing loudly. Adam and Ben rounded the corner out of sight; they heard Adam's door slam shut.

 

“Gee, Pa, for a minute there…I…ah…ha…. thought you were really going to...Pa?”

 

Ben stood, hands on his hips, glaring at his son. He was a very big man, and when he stood up to his full height, he seemed even bigger than life.

 

“If you are foolish enough to make such a promise, boy, then you will live to regret it! I know you did it because you love your little brother, but, Adam, you will find out, there are times when love hurts. Ben's face was sternly serious.

 

The two younger Cartwright boys stood side by side near the settee. One was pale. The other was a greenish white. It was suddenly all quiet upstairs; they waited with baited breath to see who came down first. Little Joe closed his eyes as he recognized the sound of his brother, Adam's, footsteps.

 

Adam Cartwright, a very stony look on his face, his jaw set tight, eyes straight ahead, walked slowly, rather awkwardly down the stairs and right past his brothers pausing to give the youngest a look that made the child cringe and step back.

 

"If.... I.... eber... heel you asf be for a fabor.... agan. I...wool neber....neber....in a milwon yearths...ebe’r wisen to you....for the west of your wife...so...help be’....." the cold eyes where bottomless..

 

"If you...dare...ssshpeek…to be," he warned, Turning, he stomped out to his horse.

 

Hoss looked sadly at the little boy, who stood frozen to the spot. He shook his head and followed Adam. Little Joe followed Hoss, creeping slowly.

 

Adam reached Sport, put his foot in the stirrup, pulled himself up, hesitated for a moment, and then settled, ever so very very gingerly into the saddle. Yanking the reins around, he rode out of the yard.

 

Hoss let his breath out in a long low whistle, "Boy," he sighed, "This is gonna take a long time to...." shaking his head in dismay he was not aware Joe was right behind him. "Adam's probly' gonna be long gone.... befer he gets over this one."

 

"Gee, he looked-ed awful mad wif me," Joe shrugged, "How come he talkeded so funny?"

 

Hoss rolled his eyes and headed off for the barn. Joe went back into the house very confused.  That  ole' Miz. P. surely had done it this time. Silently he declared war on her. If any one was going to leave, it was not going to be his brother, not if he could help it. At that point his father came down, still simmering, but not as furious. He still had to deal with his youngest. Ben wasn't quite sure Joe understood what his brother had done. Joe also had to understand his own actions had consequences; he had to learn to think what might happen to another when he let his temper and impulsive nature control his behavior.

 

"Joseph! Come here, boy. We need to speak!" Joe did as he was told. Ben sat in his red chair. Joe slowly came and stood in front of him, his little hands spread as wide as possible over his bottom, just in case.

 

 Ben held the boy between his knees fixing him with a most imposing and no nonsense look.

 

“You will apologize to Mrs. Pompfrhy, first thing in the morning, in front of the class…with not one objection. Do you understand this, young man? You see already what your thoughtless actions did to two people?”

 

Little Joe shook his head, and then wrinkling his brow, Joe half laughed.

 

"Papa.... You didn' wreely Spank Adam.... Did ya?"

 

His father's response was to raise his brow and give Joe one more of his famous looks...“What do you think?”

 

Little Joe put his head in his hands moaning “Uuh oh. Oh, nooo, sigh, tisk,” he shook his head.

 

Chapter 4

 

About one quarter of a mile from the ranch house, in a small glen surrounded by the scent of sweet, wild crabapple trees, Adam halted and dismounted very carefully. Stiffly, he walked to the little stream that trickled around a few rocks. He began to gag, choke and cough...holding his stomach as it threatened to make him wretch. Slowly sinking to his knees on the mossy bank, Ben Cartwright's eldest son took his finger and dug at the thick mass of strong soap that had lodged behind his upper teeth where the bar had been dragged out of his protesting mouth a short while ago. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, in a desperate attempt to find any other traces. Spitting out what he found, he reached and took a handful of the cool water swishing it around in his mouth to clear the dastardly taste clinging there. When he spat it out he was shocked at the beautiful, iridescent bubbles that he created; some broke away and floated up on the air. Shaking his head, he spat again, releasing yet another string of luminous delicate orbs that reflected rainbow colors as they popped sending little tickles back in his scowling face.

"Ugh, Blah...uck.Ackk, sheesh." he drew the back of hand across his mouth, his lips burning from the soap.

 

Standing up, he groaned softly. Almost mysteriously, the sun playing on the stream's ripples, and the sound of a mocking bird, started to wash the fresh sting from his mind if not from his body. The calm quiet surroundings forced him to study his actions, rubbing gently at the reminder.

 

Adam's mind drew him back to another day when he had stood in this glen, a very miserable hurt boy. Marie, his stepmother who he had just begun to accept, had found him there. He was nursing a wounded heart, as he had just been spurned by his first "Love". Softly, Marie had approached him.

 

"You will find, my son," he remembered flinching at that endearment, "More often than not, in the years to come, there are sometimes when in spite of your best intentions, and in spite of your attempts to rectify it....love hurts!"

 

She had gently placed her arm around his shoulder, in a tender, understanding, compassionate and loving manner, and then slipped away as quietly as she had come.

 

"Oh, Mama, you were so right, then...and now...too... Only this is not the way I think you meant it." He couldn't help himself; he chuckled. With that, he came back to the here and now.

 

"Ok, I get the message! But, does he have to be that good at getting us to do whatever he wants us to. He is certainly your son, as much as he is Pa's."

 

Grimacing, he shook his head, and screwed up his mouth. Dinner would definitely not be enjoyable tonight.

 

"In hindsight (Oh man! Bad choice of words!), I suppose I might have had something to do with it, accidentally... I fueled the fire myself. That, I admit. After all... "Damn It, Pa", and "Now just you wait one damn minute!" …They weren't exactly the best choice of words.” Sadly he shook his head.

 

“I just can't believe I said them, not to my father anyway, not to mention my tone of voice, at that point wasn't particularly respectful or any way near polite!”

 

“Pa sure is right about one thing, when you let your mouth work without giving your brain a chance, the results are more often than not, very painful, in more ways than one!”

 

“What in Heaven's name was I thinking! No! I wasn't thinking! If I had been, there would have been no way.... My Own Father!....I said "Damn It!" to my father! And I'm not only still alive...but I am still able to walk, albeit none to easily. Walking alright, obviously, not riding,”

 

With a small rueful smile he picked up his reins and wandered slowly along the little stream stopping now and again to rinse his still stinging mouth. The other stinging reminder, he gently rubbed, sighing each time, while heading eventually back in the direction of home.

 

“For the one supposedly with the brains in the family, you sometimes have a funny way of letting it show!”

 

Chapter 5

 

Hop Sing, the Cartwright's housekeeper and cook, woke with a start. He had gone off to collect some wild roots. Not finding what he was searching for, he sat for a moment under a great elm tree. It was warm. He was tired. He had walked a great distance. Leaning back, he rested against the strong trunk; the soft breeze and the merry hum of the busy insects as well as the swish of the leaves lulled the usually energetic and highly motivated little man into a pleasant slumber. Jumping up, he looked all around than up at the sky; the sun was slipping towards dinnertime. He grabbed his basket, and ranting a string of oriental expletives, he hurried back to the house.

 

"Boys? Have either of you seen Hop Sing?" Ben asked as he came out of the silent and very empty kitchen. He held a cup of all too noticeably cold coffee. There was no sign of his cook and dinner should have already been started.

 

Two heads shook in unison and he got a matched "Uh-n-o--sir." in reply.

 

"Why Not!" he grumbled. Behind him he heard the door to the kitchen bang open and the sound of an irate Chinaman as he clattered together pots and pans. Ben chose the better part of valor, and did not go to see what had detained him, not if he wanted dinner anytime soon. The sad, hangdog look on his middle son's face at the prospects of no real meal was more than enough for him.

 

"Is. Hop Sing back? Is he gonna make dinner?" The anxious blue eyes emphasized his plea.

 

"Seems so, but I don't think any of us should go see, at least not yet. So please go start your chores; oh, and it wouldn't hurt if you did Adam's."

 Hoss nodded and left, Joe followed quickly, worriedly wondering what Adam would do when he got him alone.

 

"He did pw-romise it... He did." he muttered pouting at the thought of an apology to Miz. Puffy.

 

The next day Ben Cartwright escorted his youngest to school, only to find it closed. It seemed that after the events of yesterday, Mrs. Petunia Pompfrhy had another unexpected shock, in the form of a telegram informing her of the death of her husband, Clarence.

 

After stopping by the Doctor's to check on Jake with his youngest son in tow, he returned to his ranch, to face the problem of keeping little Joe out of trouble while attending his ranch work. In light of yesterday's events, he was not about to ask Adam to supervise his brother.

 

His solution was to send Joe to his room for the rest of the day. At least with Joe there, Ben had half a chance to get something done. Adam was not really speaking to Ben. Hoss was out with the hands. Hop Sing was in a real touchy mood since last night, and Ben had way too much to do to occupy the child himself.

 

"You are to spend the rest of the day in your room!" he sternly ordered.

 

"Why?"

 

"That way I know where you are. And.... I might add, you have a great deal of thinking about your recent behavior to occupy your time."

 

"Ww-ell gee that ain't fair"

 

"Isn't fair."

 

"Uhuh. " Joe folded his arms across his chest.

 

"I am counting to five.... If you are still here when I get to it... you and I are going to have a VERY...Serious Discussion on this subject.... One...Two.."

 

Joe was already up stairs, shutting the door by three, with his heart pounding wildly. Ben smiled and went to his desk. A short while later Hoss came in for lunch.

 

"Hi Pa, lunch ready?

 

He sniffed the air, as he came around to his father's desk. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a shadowy movement at the top of the stairs. A frown creased his young face.

"Something the matter, son?

 

"Naw, I don't think so Pa. Its jest that fer a minute I thought I saw Little Joe at the top of the stairs."


Hoss scratched his blond hair.

 

"Well, for his sake, I hope you were wrong... but I have a strong suspicion you weren't." 

 

"Joseph!" The stern voice boomed across the room and up the stairs. Turning to Hoss's question before he had a chance to ask, his father explained, "School has been let out...Again..." Frustration oozed from his voice.

 

"Now it seems we are once again in need of a teacher," he shook his head sighing.

 

A small figure appeared at the top of the stairs; Joe came down one step.

 

"You called me, Pa?"

 

"Yes.... What were you doing out of your room? And before you say anything. Your brother saw you!"...

 

Joe glanced at Hoss who shrugged innocently; he had no idea he was causing trouble.

 

"I am waiting..."

 

Joe put on his best face, looking so lonely and soulful.

 

"I..I.. Thinkd no one was home...I gotts lonely."

 

"That is no excuse."

 

Ben refused to listen; he came around the desk and crossed to the stairs. Joe went up the last step.

 

"I'm sorry, Papa...." The big hazel eyes begged

.

Adam came in the house at that exact minute and quickly surveyed the scene.

 

"Now what?"

 

But the call for lunch from Hop Sing, resolved the problem. Ben stepped back; Joe came down the stairs, his eyes glued to the floor. Upon reaching the last step he found himself helped along the way to the table by a well-aimed well-practiced swat. His lip quivered, but he made no reply.

 

By dinnertime, Joe had fallen asleep on his bed; Ben had finished his paperwork, and ridden out to see how the other boys were managing. Jake had returned from town looking a little funny, the stings still quite noticeable but for the most part the dust had settled.

 

Chapter 6

 

Two days later Ben and his boys went to town for supplies, Joseph had been on his best behavior so his father had decided all three should go and they would, depending on how they acted, have lunch at the International House, a rare treat for the younger boys.

 

They left the wagon at the general store while Mr. Cass filled the order. With time on their hands, they leisurely headed towards the Hotel, intending to go by the Wells Fargo station and see if the mail had arrived as Adam was expecting a letter from Grandfather Stoddard.

 

The stage had already arrived. It was being loaded for its return trip to San Francisco, and the lone passenger for the trip was attempting to enter the coach. Mrs. Petunia Pompfrhy had, the day before yesterday, received the sad news that her dearly beloved husband, Clarence, had met an untimely demise, leaving her to settle his affairs, and requesting that she please come post haste. Petunia had shut the door of her shop leaving a sign in the window simply stating “ Closed.”

 

Ben and the boys happened along just as there was a screech of rusty bolts being torn from weathered wood. The coach lurched suddenly to the left.

 

Grasping the sides of the coach, Petunia attempted to heft her plentiful self through the door. However, unable to pull herself up, she stomped down hard on the step to give herself better leverage. The step gave way causing the entire coach to tilt precariously to the left with a tortured moan, which, in turn, startled the entire six-up. Disastrously, the step twisted down in on itself, incapable of withstanding the sudden, overwhelming strain.

 

If not for quick thinking on the part of old Harvey, the overland driver, the lopsided coach would have careened into the crowded street. As it was, it took Harvey's efforts and two young cowboys who grabbed each of the lead horses by the bridles to settle the snorting animals which were still trembling, with nostrils flaring, eyes rolling wildly. 

 

Wrapping the reins securely around the brake, Harvey turned back in time to see the step give way, flinging a flailing black mass from the side of the coach. Nervously he twisted his hat in his hands, shutting his eyes to the sight as an ear splitting scream died with a resounding THUD!

 

Ben Cartwright, ever the gallant, perfect gentleman he was, unmindful of the possible consequences with nary a thought to his own personal safety, or life, jumped to catch the "Lady." Regrettably, his action resulted in Ben being flattened like a pancake as she toppled right smack on top of him, engulfing him in a cloud of black mourning veil and yards and yards and yards, of black moiré fabric.

 

Little Joe attached himself to the side of the Wells Fargo building, in his effort to escape the huge black avalanche. Both Adam and Hoss grabbed for each other and jumped back, narrowly escaping becoming entangled as well.

 

There was a stunned hush, as the sunbeams illuminated the swirling dust motes created in the wake of the extraordinary impact.

 

"G-u-l-p!!.... Pa?"

 

A muffled moan came from the bottom of the huge, black mound. Petunia lay there staring up at the sky, dazed for the moment, her vision darkened by the mourning veil twisted around her face. She remained perfectly still, quite sure she had died.

 

Something moved under her. She frowned. Then it moved again. The movement was accompanied by a  sound that seemed like a cry for help.

 

Little Joe, the first to recover, being just five and a half, emboldened by the misguided belief that somehow Petunia Pompfrhy was responsible for the forthcoming departure of his beloved older brother, became enraged by what he saw, and shot like a little lightening bolt to her side.

"HAY!!!!!! LADY!!!  GET---UP----LADY---- YER SQUISSHINNNN MYY PAAAA!!!!!!!.....GET..... UPPPPP...LADY......!!.GET.... UPPPPP!!!!"

 

Little Joe was jumping up and down, screaming at the top of his lungs at her!

 

Even in her dazed state, Petunia knew that voice! Reaching blindly around with one hand, she half sat up, locating her parasol. She began wielding it like a broad sword! She struck out. Seeing it coming, but unable to get fully clear as his feet were tangled in the fabric, she caught Joe square across the bottom with a resounding THWACK! The impact sent him stumbling forward with a look of total shock on his face. The force sent him headlong into Sheriff Coffee, who was on his way over to investigate. He caught the lad. He could see all the commotion, but not its exact cause. Roy spun the boy around as he delivered a resounding Thwack of his own, figuring Joe to be fleeing some mischief.

 

He hauled the stunned boy by the back of his shirt collar to the scene. Deputy Clem arrived with Mr. Blackwell, the huge blacksmith, and they were in the process of heaving the semi-conscious, babbling woman forward enough for the two older boys to try to extricate the motionless form of their father from the huge, black mound.

 

Apparently the first impact had stunned both but merely knocked the wind from Ben. However, the realization that she was sitting on top of someone...a...man, from the big, shiny black boot at the end of the kicking leg, Petunia promptly fainted....falling backwards. The second impact resulted in Ben being out cold.

 

It was with utmost care the two boys half dragged the motionless form from under the mass of person and cloth that the men were attempting to get to her feet.

 

By then, more than a few town folk had gathered around to get a good look.

 

Adam stood up glaring with the same commanding presence as the man at his feet.

 

"Stay back!" Adam ordered.

 

"Give us room; he's our Pa; we will take care of him."

 

The onlookers obeyed, opening up a wide circle

 

"A-addmm?... Pa...He ain't wakin up!.... Is he breathin?" Hoss whispered fearfully.

 

Adam knelt down by his father's side, gently removing his father's neckerchief, handing it to Roy.

 

"Sheriff Coffee, sir, could you get this wet for me?"

 

Adam opened his father's shirt, placing his hand on his chest. It was heaving and he could feel his father's heart beating. Taking the wet neckerchief, he wiped it over his father's face, and across his forehead, and then patted his father on the cheek. Ben lay motionless in Hoss's arms, as he knelt behind his pa, propping him up against his own chest. Hoss's face was flushed, his heart still pounding from the effort it took to get Ben free. Adam alternated patting his father and wiping his face, while softly calling to him in an urgent voice.

 

Adam's dark hazel eyes anxiously scanned the pale face for any sign of waking. Roy produced a tin cup with water in it. Adam held it to his father's lips in hopes of getting him to drink. He let a little trickle into his mouth, further attempting to revive him. So far nothing had worked.

 

The boys were becoming increasingly edgy. As this was going on, Harvey announced he had delayed long enough; the stage was now over one half hour late. Petunia pulled herself together with not so much as a backwards glance at the man who had disregarded life and limb to catch her; she went to the right side of the coach. There with a determined joint effort of some magnitude, and a great deal of huffing, hauling and pushing. Petunia Primrose Pompfrhy was finally into the body of the coach as the springs sagged noticeably. Petunia gathered up her dignity, snorting derision at the men who helped her. The door shut. The stage swayed and rattled out of town clattering away in a cloud of dust.

 

No one seemed more pleased to see her go than the little boy standing nervously by the side of the still man and the stiff backed young man kneeling on the other side of his father.

 

Adam, suddenly aware of Joe's wringing his father's hat in his hands, snarled.

 

"Joseph... So help me.... As soon as I am sure Pa is ok, I'm gonna Spank you so hard!"

 

"B-but...A..Adam.. I...." Joe paled as he stammered, "I-I-I."

 

"Quiet!" Adam turned back to his father.

 

"Yes, Adam.." Joe sniffled in a whisper. He ran his hand over his eyes, still holding his father's hat. With his free hand, he rubbed his seat.

 

"G..Gee sheriff Coffee is almos strong as Pa.," he thought woefully.

 

The sun was getting very hot; Adam slowly straightened up. The crowd was dispersed by Roy and Clem.

 

"C-comon- Hoss we gotta get him over to Dr. Martins, right now. I don't want to wait here for him. We gotta go right now...!"

 

Squaring his shoulders Adam took Hoss's place at his father's head.

 

"Here, I'll do this. You get his legs and feet," he paused "You gonna be ok?"

 

"I...I...think. so."

 

Determinedly and ever so gently the boys struggled to their feet, both staggering under the surprising weight.

 

"Oooffff...geee Pa is bigger en' I thought," Hoss puffed groaning

"No kidding!" Adam grunted as he labored toward the end of the boardwalk.

 

Roy Coffee took it upon himself to clear the way for the slow and awkward little trio. Little Joe fell in step with his brothers, all the time his eyes glued to his father's face. So intent on his father, the little boy stumbled into Hoss, hitting him right in his still injured elbow.

 

With a surprised little yelp, Hoss half let go of his burden, the result was Ben's right hip bumped and scraped a few feet along the planks until the boy got a grip again.

 

"Dadburnit! Joe, watch wher yer goin!"

 

Ben's face twitched, but he remained still. And so it went.

 

Paul Martin, beloved Doctor of Virginia City, and the area around it snuck as quietly as possible in the back way to his surgery. He was totally exhausted, having just spent a frantic and frustratingly long night out at the Gibson place, fretting over the twins.

 

Winston and Wanda seemed to be suffering from some rare ailment, until he overheard them, and realized it was a hoax.

 

Finding this out, he stormed out of the house, vowing, "Doctor or no Doctor, I am going to clobber the next person I come across!"

 

His house was silent; his wife had gone out early that morning, leaving him a note stating she was at her sister's and would not be home until the next morning.

 

Paul made himself a hot cup of coffee and closed his eyes to revel in the blissful silence.

 

His bliss was short lived, shattered by a pounding at his door, voices urgently begging him to open up.

 

Red eyed and with a blood lust, he slammed open the door, to be pushed out of the way by a little boy carrying a gray hat followed by two red faced and obviously ready-to- collapse young men, both of whom just barely managed to dump a body on his chaise before they sank into chairs themselves heaving and out of breath.

 

"P..Please..gasp...pant..Doc. ya gotta help my Pa!"

 

After his initial shock, Paul came to his senses.

 

"What on earth happened to him?" Paul automatically began his examination.

 

"Miz Puffy!" Joe declared, his hands on his hips still holding his Pa's hat, and wearing his Pa's neckerchief around his own little neck.

 

"Who?"

 

"Uh, Doc." Roy interceded.

 

"Seems Miz Petunia wuz gettin on th' stage fer San Francisco, an some how or tother the step let go... she would of cracked her skull fer sure, septin' Ben here tried to catch her."

 

"HE WHAT?????"

 

"Yeah..." Joe piped up..." An she squisshed im' jes like a pancake!" He clapped his hands together one on top of another to demonstrate.

 

"Oh, my, my, my, my, my! " Paul muttered, shaking his head.

 

"Well, aren't you going to do something?" Adam, now recovered, stood up and paced.

 

"He's been out for a long time!"

 

"Yes, of course." Paul went to his medicine cabinet and took out the little bottle of spirits of ammonia. Leaning over Ben, he made certain there weren't any broken bones, then made him comfortable.

 

"How hard did you say they hit?"

 

After examining the huge goose egg at the back of Ben’s head, Paul carefully felt around Ben's chest; it was quite clear his ribs were bruised. He removed his shirt and wrinkled his brow at the odd marks on his back that ran down into the top of his pants. Adam caught the questioning look, blushed slightly, and then he coughed in embarrassment.

 

"Oh.. Yeah, those, we.ll..Uh...Pa's a pretty big man, see...an ... Hoss here…his elbow isn't really healed and well…"

 

Adam squirmed under the doctor's scrutiny.

 

"So?"

 

"So, we um…kinda, lost our grip…..once." Adam bit his lip, scratching at his ear."Or.. maybe twice... not more than three times...right Hoss?"

 

Hoss gulped, and nodded his agreement.

 

"And no one offered to help you?" the doctor snapped, furious that not one person offered to help these poor boys.

 

At this point Roy quietly slipped out of his office to see to his regular duties.

 

"Ah, ah...ha... well... ya see, Sir…" Hoss refused to acknowledge Adam's attempt to silence him with one of his looks.

 

"A..Adam... he...he didn't want no help.... Said.. Pa was our re-sponsblity... and no one was ta innerfere..." He quietly finished, ignoring the daggers his brother shot at him.

 

Paul Martin stood back up and faced the eldest Cartwright son square on. His mood once again slipping, in spite of his affection for the Cartwright boys and the fact that their father was one of his dearest friends.

 

“Adam Cartwright! Shame on You!” he stepped away from his patient to shake his finger, scolding the young man as he moved towards him.

 

 

class=Section19>

Adam’s face registered shock. He stepped back and opened his mouth to protest but his father had taught him better. He hung his head as the doctor sternly lectured him. Adam did take a chance to shoot a quick, withering glare at Hoss who shifted uneasily.

 

"For Heaven Sakes, boy! Have you no sense? You know perfectly well not to move someone unless it is absolutely unavoidable! I can not believe you, of all kids, would be so foolish! Why I.."

 

A soft pitiful moan rescued Adam from further humiliation for the moment.

 

Paul shook his finger at Adam one more time and went back to Ben. Hoss was leaning very close to his father's face watching intently. Paul lifted one of Ben’s eyelids and was pleased to see signs of his rousing, so he passed the ammonia vial under his nose.

 

As Ben came awake he reacted to the last thing he knew, so in defense he flung out his arms.

 

A sudden sharp cry followed. Hoss, who had not backed up far enough, had been smacked right in the nose by his father's hand as he flung his arms around wildly.

 

“Owwww” cried the surprised Hoss.

 

Hoss’s eyes quickly filled with tears, as a bright red drop of blood began to ooze from his nose.

 

“Sigh” Paul left Ben to go get a cold wet cloth and place it over Hoss’s nose, “There, there, son just relax; your Pa didn’t mean that.”

 

“I doe, at” the boy replied holding the cloth over his nose.

 

“Adam, see to your brother.”

“Yes sir, Doctor Martin.”


 

Adam went to his younger brother still stinging from the lecture he knew was not over yet and tended Hoss somewhat less gently than he ordinarily might at a time like this.

 

Paul Martin paused in his rousing of Ben to glance over at the other chair in the room, realizing for the first time that since his initial outburst, Joe had been way too quite. The little figure on the chair sat slightly slumped, unaware he had drawn the attention of the doctor. Little Joe was deep in concentration, swinging his feet, first one then the other, left thumb planted firmly in his mouth. His motions were in step, suck, swish, suck, swish. The huge gray Stetson now resting on his own little head covered the entire upper portion of his cherubic face, it teetered rocking ever so slightly to the bobbing of the boys head, now and then resting on the end of his nose and coming way down past his ears. Paul struggled to maintain his expression. After all, he had not yet finished with Adam. Joe’s little right hand held the still damp neckerchief. He was rhythmically swinging his little legs as he fingered the damp piece of cloth unconsciously keeping time with his other motion.

  

“How are you feeling, Ben?” Paul asked as he rechecked Ben’s, eyes pleased to see that the pupils were of equal size and reacting to light. He nodded and smiled approvingly, obviously satisfied there had been no real damage. Under the circumstances he was actually thrilled. Ben was, however, still quite groggy.

 

“Uh-oh, Papa's gonna be wreely cwross wiff me, sniff!  He, he punche-ed Hoss in the nose jes caus’ he dwropped him, an, an Hoss getted a bwoody nose! Gulp!" his big hazel eyes filled immediately with tears, he began to suck harder on his thumb the more he thought on this and the speed of his legs increased in tempo.

 

 “W-what if he findeses out I madeded Hoss dwrop him.I.I don’t wanna gets a bwoody noes from Papa, he maded Hoss cry, an, an he’s a big kid, I'm jess a lill’ kid, Pweese God don’t wet’ Papa gives me a bwoody nose. Ims vwerry sorry, I bumpted inna Hoss, it was a aksadent” fervently the little boy prayed, his feet just kept going faster and higher as his worry continued to mount, that’s when it happened.

 

Doctor Martin dropped his otiscope; it slid under the bed where Ben lay. As the Doctor backed up and bent over to see if he could retrieve it.……“Offfffuh!” Paul Martin shot up straight, a most startled and astounded expression on his face.

In an instant his usually composed face registered a deep red. He placed his hand behind him as he slowly turned.

 

The small frame on the chair in front of him, who had just "aksadently" kicked the Doctor right in the seat of his pants, emitted a strangled whimper, unable to face anyone over this latest blunder of earth shaking quality. He pulled the hat down to cover his entire face and trembled with fear. What would Papa do to him now!

 

“W-ell! I never!” Paul snorted in indignation, the doctor’s deep well of compassion which seemed bottomless, was at this point in time, barely a trickle at the rocky bottom.

 

Adam and Hoss both quickly averted their eyes. Hoss stared intently out the window. Adam, on the other hand, pinched the bridge of his nose. Pulling at his ear, he half turned to examine the doctor's medicinal cabinet with infinite interest. Unfortunately the glass on the doors clearly reflected the scene he was desperately trying not to notice.

 

“W-what's, what's wrong, where am I?” Ben whispered. He was aware he had a terrible headache; his body seemed bruised in the most peculiar places. “I, I, feel like I have just been flattened by a buffalo,” he confessed in a totally bewildered voice.

 

“Well, not exactly, but close, my friend!” Paul thought as he recovered his composure, a thin smile teased his lips. Turning, he lifted the hat from Joe’s head to look into huge pools of emerald tinted hazel eyes, as wide as he had ever seen them. For the briefest second he held his stern expression, then he winked, placing the hat so it sat back on Joe’s head and let his curls spill down. Little Joe gave him a weak smile, around his thumb. Gratefully he wiped his eyes with his father's neckerchief, and mistakenly glanced up at his oldest brother. He paled and shut his eye’s sucking wildly once again, only this time he was careful with his feet.

 

Paul Martin returned to his patient.

 

“Now Ben, you just lay back and rest; keep your eye’s closed for a few more moments as I am sure your head is spinning, I know mine would be.” Paul chuckled softly, the image Joe had created and the report from the others filled his mind with amused wonder in spite of how tired and grumpy he had been.

 

Ben nodded ever so slightly. Paul was right; his head was spinning out of control. He had all he could do to keep from being sick.

 

As the doctor observed his patient clinically for any other signs of trouble, his thoughts also returned to the earlier lecture he was giving Ben’s eldest son on his actions. Paul stepped closer to Adam so his father could not hear him.

 

“I have a good mind to tell your Pa, just why he feels so bad, and I don’t mean from his attempt to help Mrs. Pompfrhy,” he scolded in a very low voice, “However, I will let you handle this, on one condition, don’t you EVER, make a stupid move like that with any of your family, unless it is life threatening, understand?” He glared into the deep hazel brown eyes. Adam gave him the barest nod indicating he understood perfectly. As the young man lowered his lashes and his head, his fists clenched at his side. His handsome face flamed and his cheeks burned.

 

“Good boy.”

 

This is the way Sheriff Coffee found the little group upon his return.

 

“How’s Ben a doin’?” he asked, a little fretful at all their expressions.

 

“Very well, I am glad to report.”

 

Roy smiled, “Good to hear. Yes indeedy. Good to hear.”

 

“Uh, Dr. Martin c-can we take Pa home soon,” Adam found his voice again after Doc's unbraiding.

 

“I think he will be ok, but the ride home in the wagon had better be a slow and careful one.”

 

 Not being able to help and not wanting the doctor to fuss over him, Hoss jumped at the chance to escape.

 

“I’ll go fetch it, and I guess we better have Mr. Cass take sum a’ them supplies out again,” he shook his head. “Hop Sing ain’t likely to be pleased over this,” Hoss worried as he left to get the wagon. Even though he was still young, Hoss was very good with handling a team.

 

 “Watch yourself son, the town is near bustin' at her seems with folks a commin’ an goin’, lots o’ wagons and people.”

 

“Yes sir, I unner stand; I'll be right careful’ an Adam,” he spoke guardedly “ I’ll be back quick as I can.”

 

Poor Hoss was so upset at how the Doctor had spoken to his big brother. He never expected that kind of reaction from the kindly and mostly soft-spoken man.

 

Adam just looked at Hoss, and then looked away, his jaw tight. When he got no response, Hoss lowered his head, put his hat back on and walked to the door.

“Be back right quick,” Hoss muttered.

 

Once outside, Hoss marched towards the General store, and with every step he began to get mad.

 

“Dadgum Yankee granite head, why ya alus’ gotta be so hard headed.” Occasionally Hoss swiped at the blood that refused to stop tickling it’s way out his very sore nose.

 

Hoss reached the General Store just as the last of the supplies were being loaded. He sighed, more than a little uncomfortable. “ Uh, Mr. Cass sir?” The man stood up wiping the sweat from his brow.

 

“Don’t worry boy, we're almost done.”

 

“No sir, I ain’t worried....but, um,” he took off his hat and scratched his soft wispy blond hair.

 

“Um, sir, I recon’ ya heard bout my Pa,”

 

Mr. Cass studied the boy’s distressed features. “He is alright, isn’t he?” He came over and rested a hand on Hoss’s shoulder kindly gesture.

 

“Oh…yes sir, he is,” Hoss responded.

 

“Good, tisk! Just like Ben to go and do a foolhardy thing like that. Why it's sheer luck he survived at all!” the man unthinkingly spoke out loud.

 

“Yes sir, I spose so,” Hoss murmured, as he twisted his hat in his hands.

 

“Something else wrong?”

 

“No, sir, well kinda, see we gotta get Pa home in the back of the wagon, and golly, sir I mean ya just finished fillin' it, and w-well now ya gotta unload stuff cause there ain’t no room fer my Pa.” Hoss stumbled through his little speech.

 

“Yep, just like you Cartwrights. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another, sheeesh, well, let's get at it. Just what should we take out?”

 

Hoss put his hat back on and with a big sigh began to explain and help the store owner remove what he hoped were the least important items, always mindful of Hop Sing and the food and baking supplies.

 

Back at the doctor's office, Roy chatted with Paul, who from time to time, checked up on Ben. Both Joe and Adam remained silent, both lost in their own private worries. At regular intervals Paul would sneak concerned look at each boy.

 

It seemed to take two forevers for Hoss to get back. At the sound of the wagon pulling up, Adam sprang to the door, and bolted out.

.

“What took so long?” he demanded, hands on his hips.

 

“You jes’ simmer down, big brother. Mr. Cass had all them supplies on the wagon, an he weren’t too pleased to have to unload um.”

 

“You better have helped him, is all I have to say!” Adam warned.

 

 Hoss pushed past him scowling, “Yeah, it’s you an’ yer mouth that’s got Pa bumped all up.” He went in and right over to his father.

 

“He’s fine, boy, and put this cold rag back on your face, I can see it’s still bleeding some”

 

Paul handed Hoss the cold rag, and he accepted it gratefully for his nose was truly still throbbing.

 

“Yez, sir, ank’ you, sir” it came out slightly muffled.

 

At last they were ready to move Ben. Little Joe slid silently off the chair while doing his best to become invisible and not draw any more attention to himself; he was still wearing his father's hat and carrying the neckerchief, thumb firmly in his mouth.

 

He walked gingerly over and stood next to the wagon waiting to be told where to sit. Adam came out and glared at him.

 

“What are you waiting for?”

 

“A-adam, don’ch’ member?”

 

“Don’t I remember?” came the acerbic correction.

 


“I don’ know! That's is why I akxed you!’

 

“Asked me?’

 

“Yeah, jes now.” Little Joe sighed, frustrated at Adam’s reluctance to answer him.

 

“Just now WHAT?” Adam demanded, his simmering temper reaching close to the boiling over point. His dressing down by the doctor, his own guilt, Hoss’s attitude, the entire mess, it was just too much.

 

Little Joe shook his head sadly and moaned. “A-adam,”

 

Adam grabbed him suddenly. ”Get in and Sit Down!!” he barked, no longer willing to play word games with this most infuriating little brother. With these harsh words, he plunked Joe down in the wagon bed with a hard thunk!

 

“Owww,” Joe’s eyes instantly filled with tears, “T-that-hurt-ed me, why-d ya frow’ me down so hard? First Miz, Puffy wacked-ed me with her ol’brella, an, an then I fellded into Shirff Coffee, an, an he smacked me, cause, ccause, he thinked I did somfin to Pa, Sniffle!” his little voice sounded woeful and just a tad pouty, but no one was around to feel sorry for him, except himself. All he had gotten from Adam was an angry snort, as he had stalked back to help get their Pa.

 

“Geeewiz,” Joe complained as he used his father’s neckerchief once more to wipe away his tears, and then blow his nose. Almost immediately he was forced to scramble into a little gap, as his brothers, with the help of the doctor and sheriff, squeezed Ben between the remaining supplies as gently as possible into the back of the wagon.

 

Adam turned to doctor Martin and the sheriff, his face still pink as he cleared his throat. “Uh-t-thank you Dr, Martin,” he meekly stated, un-accustomed to this kind of apology. He shook the doctor's hand. Paul winked at him, kindly, but Adam was too preoccupied with his wounded pride.

 

“You will take good care of your Pa. I know that. Make sure he rests for at least another day or two. You hear me? Oh, and be sure he takes all his medicine.” Paul handed the young man a small vial, then gently patted him on the shoulder in a reassuring way. Adam nodded silently as he slipped it into his vest pocket.

 

Turning to Roy, Adam again offered his hand in thanks.

 

“Awww, twerent’ nuthin’, lad. You boys skeedaddle along home now, and mind ya’, drive careful like.” Roy smiled, understanding the boy’s discomfort.

 

Adam and Hoss both nodded and Adam climbed into the driver's seat as Hoss climbed up and managed to squeeze in next to Ben who laid quietly, eyes closed. Ben shifted, ever so slightly, in an attempt to find a better resting spot for his aching bones, throbbing head and scraped back and hip.

 

Hoss still held the cloth on his nose, the stubborn tickle of blood persisted.

 

The wagon slowly moved away, headed down the street, and out of town towards the Ponderosa and home.

 

Dr. Martin and Sheriff Coffee stood shoulder-to-shoulder watching, both wearing identical half smiles, half smirks. The wagon proceeded down the busy main street of Virginia City. As it made its way, it seemed to manage to hit just about every conceivable rut in the town. At last it rounded the corner. Both men shook their heads and parted company, Paul Martin to find the much sought after very needed peace and quiet. The sheriff ambled down the street ever watchful, on his way back to his office to have a nice bit of quiet and cup of coffee before he took another stroll around.

 

The wagon rolled slowly and bumped its way out past the town limits. Adam drove with utmost care, but for the fact that for some strange reason, Ben’s most competent, eldest son, seemed unable to steer clear of any and all rocks, holes, and ruts in the well traveled road.

 

Meanwhile, in the back of the wagon, out in the fresh air, Ben Cartwright was slowly coming back to full consciousness despite his mind's attempt to remain in that foggy state. More and more he began to feel all the bumps, jolts, and jars as the wagon moved slowly onward. Suddenly he felt his teeth click as they experienced one particularly deep rut. Hoss, unable to maintain his balance while holding his nose, almost pitched right on top of him.

 

“Uhh, oops s-soory, Pa!” Hoss blushed furiously as he felt his elbow jab into his fathers shoulder. Ben unable to keep it in, groaned out loud.

 

“Dadburn, your onnery hide, Adam. Can’t ya drive no better n’ at’? At the rate yer hitten all them bumps n’ ruts, Pa’s gonna be worse off then before; I got a mind ta’ put Little Joe up there ta show ya, how! It peers’ he can’t do no werse,” Hoss spit out in frustration. Turning to his father he asked,  “Y-you ok, Pa?”

 

Joe’s eyes almost popped out of his head; he pulled his thumb out of his mouth.

 

“Wreely?” he gasped hopefully, knowing deep down in his heart this would never happen.

 

“Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen!” Adam scoffed to himself as he continued to head towards home.

 

“Uh, yes, son, I think I'm  OK?” Ben forced is eyes open; he had to lift his arm to shield them from the sun. He was just able to make out Hoss’s face, as the boy was just putting the cloth back on his nose, but before he did, Ben was able to see the telltale trickle of blood for the first time and winced.

 

“Son, w-what happened to you?” Ben tried to get a better look, very concerned about Hoss.

 

“Aww Pa, it wernt nothin,” Hoss quickly tried to make light of the subject or change the direction it was heading.

 

Too late!

 

“Don’ch” member Pa?” piped up a little squeaky voice, full of surprise.

 

“Oh, great, just great, big mouth strikes again.” Adam muttered.

 

“Joseph?”

 

“Course, Pa, it’s me!” Who else would I be?”

 

“Just what is it I’m supposed to remember? I’m afraid my mind is still a little foggy, boys.”

 

“Why, how ya punched Hoss wight in the nose!” Joe slammed his little fist in the palm of his other hand, making a popping sound.

 

“What??!! I Never!” Ben struggled to sit up, regretting it instantaneously.  The spinning sensation made him want to retch.

 

Hoss gently placed his hand on his father's shoulder pressing him back as he re-assured him.

 

“Uh, Pa, y-you did...b-but I ain’t mad atcha’ cuz ya didn’t know it was me, I spect’ ya was...uh….” Hoss paused shyly, “thinkin ya wuz.umm still stuck.” he swallowed then continued. “Dr. Martin give ya some of them smellin salts, an, an ya come up swingin’. I recon I wuz jes’ a mite closer en’ I aught ta been.” he smiled warmly to let his father know he was all right.

 

“I, I, don’t know what to say, son, I am soo very sorry, I…I… Does it hurt much?”

 

With that, the wagon hit yet another big rut. The three in the back bounced up a few inches and came down hard. Little Joe struggled to his knees. “Ooooh!” he complained rubbing his bottom. The wagon drew to a halt.

 

Adam twisted around to look down on his father. Ben tilted his still woozy head back to meet his son’s eyes. His eldest son wore a perplexed expression, playing between Cheshire Cat, insolence, boyish mischief and a true hint of worry and concern for his beloved father.

 

“Sorry, Sir.”

 

Adam took a quick look at his brothers then turned, once again, to head home. He had that familiar, sly smirk on his face that Ben instinctively knew, even if he was unable to see it. They understood each other that well.

 

Ben got the message.

 

As mad and embarrassed as Adam was, one glimpse of Little Joe’s face suddenly created a rush of memories from how Joe looked after he had kicked Doctor Martin, to the look on Joe's little face as Pa was buried in the monstrous, black avalanche, to how Joe looked in the chair with Pa’s hat on his little head holding the neckerchief as tight as he could. Adam was not able to stop the warm sigh. He shook his head, “Did it again…didn't he!”

 

Then he shifted on the hard bench as he drove. With that, another image popped up, a less than pleasant memory from just two days before. The smile that had grown out of the smirk began to disintegrate; it dissolved into a fierce frown, which slipped, in the blink of an eye, into as petulant a pout as his little brother had ever mustered. Hunching his shoulders, Adam picked up the pace of the team just enough to let those riding behind know just what he thought and was feeling about each one.

 

Sighing wearily and trying to get as comfortable as he was ever going to be until they reached home, Ben closed his eyes. Murmuring to himself “Yes, indeed, there sure are definitely times in one’s life when, in more ways than one, LOVE HURTS!!!

 

The End

 

Epilogue:

 

Sheriff Coffee settled in at his desk with a nice, fresh, hot cup of coffee. All was quiet in town. After dinner he would take his customary stroll around town to once more make certain that all was as it should be before calling it a night. Roy sipped the strong brew appreciatively, as he began to peruse the latest edition of the San Francisco Chronicle that had arrived on the afternoon stage. With all the excitement, he was just now getting to it. Nothing particular struck his sharp eye, until the last page.

 

There was a small rectangular item in a bold black box. He read on, his curiosity piqued. It read as follows:

 

NOTICE: In response to last weeks edition in which we reported on the passing of one Clarence Horneblower Pompfrhy, we are deeply saddened and it is with the deepest regret for any distress to his family and friends, that we duly apologize for reporting erroneously of his demise. It has come to our attention that, as a matter of fact, he is in robust health, and was last reported to be seen scurrying up the gang plank of the “Royal Flush,” a clipper bound for the Sandwich islands. Mr. Pompfrhy was also reported to be escorting the very young and very lovely, Violet Pansy Hampton, late of the Gilded Lily, where she was reported to be the STAR of the show.

 
 
     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sheriff Coffee spewed out his mouth full of coffee, and threw back his head laughing heartily, his entire body shaking, tears blurred his vision. After he had laughed himself out, he wiped his eyes and let go a great contented sigh. Just in time to catch the last glorious rays of gold as the sun set behind the mountains.

 

“Wal’ if that don’t jest’ beat all!” he drawled.

 

 

 

 

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