*These characters are not mine and such…they are
the property of David Dortort etc.…Well, except Carrie, she’s mine…and Caleb
and some of the other secondary characters…but the rest are the property of
David Dortort*
*Also, feedback is greatly appreciated. Hope you like it!*
Written by: Sarah S.
Carrie’s eyes crossed as she tried to focus on the
raindrop sliding down her nose. Sticking
out her lower lip, she aimed a puff of air at the tiny droplet, sending it
smattering across the bridge of her nose, the miniature beads tickling her
nostrils. She wiped the remaining
residue from her face and concentrated on the situation at hand. Scraping some of the dangling drops off the
rim of the wooden slats she was seated upon, she turned her head to look at her
father.
The
tall man seated beside her, appeared to be uncomfortable and looked awkward in
his oilskin. Carrie watched as the
moisture gathered on his cloak and trickled down his hat in tiny rivulets. The damp weather was unusual for the season,
and though it was an unexpected sight, it was a welcome one. The
The
rain was not falling hard, in fact it was really only sprinkling, but there was
a moisture in the atmosphere that dampened everything and clung to fabrics,
skin, and hair. Carrie took a deep
breath of the heavy air as she and her pa plodded down the road into town. A small smile graced her face as she inhaled
the sweetness of the breeze. A light, flowery scent floated on the wind, making Carrie feel
refreshed and energized at the same time.
She peered down at the reddish road on which they were traveling and saw
that the dust had been transformed into mud.
Carrie imagined taking her shoes off and stepping her feet into the wet
earth, letting the warm, oozing, soil seep between her
toes. A slight cough from her father
interrupted her musings and she nipped the idea in the bud. Pa
would never let me get away with that on the way into town,
Carrie thought, and she settled back into her seat, content to let her father
continue driving them into
*****
Carrie brushed a damp, wavy strand of hair from
her eyes, as she peered through the thick glass of the candy jar she was
inspecting. The dark headed girl had a
dime of her own to spend, taken from the life savings of $6.43 that she kept in
a cigar box in the bottom drawer of her dresser. Hoping to get enough to share with her uncle
Hoss and still have some for herself, the question that remained on the tip of
her salivating tongue, was not how
much to get, but rather what
to get. That rainy, overcast, morning,
every variety was enticing, and Carrie was having a tough time deciding. A dime was a lot to spend on candy, she knew,
but it had been a long time since Carrie had treated herself to the sugary
delicacies (to this degree anyway) and she planned to make the most of it.
The Cartwrights were not the only customers in the
mercantile that Saturday morning, though the store was not crowded. As other purchasers milled about, perusing the
assorted goods the shop had to offer, Carrie barely paid attention until, from
the corner of her eye, she noticed a dark little head, inches away from her
own. Straightening, Carrie turned
slightly to inspect her fellow candy patron and saw that the dark head belonged
to a boy, somewhat younger and smaller than she. She did not recognize the child and allowed
her eyes to wander up and down his thin body, taking in his shoeless feet and
the threadbare britches and shirt he was donning. The boy wore no hat and his black hair was
still dripping slightly from the cool drizzle falling outside. As she stared, the lad faced her and looked
at Carrie with the biggest eyes she had ever seen, big almost black eyes that
seemed too large for his tanned face. He
did not smile at Carrie, just peered up at her, with a sad look in his
eyes.
As Carrie let her gaze travel, she noticed two
more children near him. All of them had
the same straight, black hair and big dark eyes. There was a girl who appeared to be a couple
of years younger than the boy beside her, holding onto the hand of another
youngster, who looked to be no more than two years old. All three children, Carrie observed, were
staring hungrily at the jar of candy she had been considering. Seeing the state of their clothes, Carrie
wondered if their parents would have the money to purchase the sweets for them
and turned her back to the heavy jars on the counter.
Deciding to make conversation with the lad, the
curly headed youth looked down with a grin and offered her hand saying, “Hi”.
The younger boy looked at her shyly, glancing at
the offered palm, then gazing down at the floor and
responding, almost inaudibly, “Hi.”
“My name’s Carrie,” the young brunette said
cheerfully, “what’s yours?”
The youngster, eyes still on the floor, hesitated
for a moment and then replied meekly, “Joseph.”
“I have an uncle named Joseph,” Carrie chattered,
“though most people call him Little Joe.”
Joseph finally took his eyes off the floor and
studied Carrie, a small smile lighting his face. Encouraged by his reaction, Carrie continued
talking to the little guy, learning the names and ages of his siblings and
discovering that they had only just moved to the area from the
Looking back at the confections that adorned the
counter, Carrie examined the dime in her hand.
A ten-cent piece was an awful lot of money to be spending on candy for herself alone, and considering the appearance of her new
friends, Carrie figured that they probably hadn’t had a treat like that in
quite a while. With new determination,
the older youth got the attention of Mr. Cass, the owner, and ordered a pound
of assorted sweets for her new friends, and a half a pound of lemon drops,
horehound (which she knew her Uncle
Hoss wouldn’t swipe) and licorice whips for herself.
As the large bag of treats was placed in the hands
of the surprised Joseph, Carrie was rewarded with three huge pairs of eyes
staring at her in something that could only be described as awe and
worship. Unable to believe their good
fortune, the two oldest children whispered, “thanks”,
and ran off to find their father, eager to delve into their gift.
Witnessing his daughter’s act of generosity, Adam
gazed down at her proudly and let a hand rest atop her wavy head. “That was kind of you, Carrie,” he said as Carrie
turned to look up at him.
“Aw, it was nothin’, Pa,” Carrie said with a
shrug, and then looking back down at her own bag of candy added, “I had a whole
dime, after all. What would I have done
with a dime’s worth of candy? Gotten
sick probably…or worse, Uncle Hoss would have eaten it all!”
Adam grinned down at her with a gleam in his eyes,
“Well, I’m glad that my daughter exercises such wisdom in matters of
candy.” Shuffling some of the wrapped
goods in his arms he asked her, “Are you ready to go?”
“I guess so, Pa,” Carrie answered, turning her
head to relocate her friends. “Are we
going to church tomorrow, Pa?”
Surprised by this question, Adam replied, “I don’t
see why not. I can’t imagine this rain
will last until then. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I was just wondering if my new friends’ll be
there. I was thinking maybe we could
invite them to dinner sometime, since they’re new to the area and all…”
Carrie’s voice trailed off.
“I think that can be arranged,” Adam assured her,
and with one hand on her back, he directed her towards the wagon.
*****
As the plodding percherons drew them over the
rutted, road home, Carrie regaled her father with a barrage of information
derived from her new friends, the Ryders.
The hour back to the ranch passed quickly as Carrie talked on and on,
guessing at the various reasons for the Ryders’ move to the state of
It wasn’t until he pulled the horses to a stop in
front of the house that he took notice of the annoyed expression gracing the
face of his little girl. “What?” he
asked her, innocently wondering what he’d done to offend her.
“Haven’t you been listening to me?” Carrie
demanded, tapping her boot toe on the wooden slat beneath her feet.
“Of course I’ve been listening to you, Sweetheart, I just let my mind wander for a moment. What is it that you said to me just now?”
“I said,
do you think that Mr. Ryder will send Joseph to school since the summer break
is almost here?” Carrie crossed her arms
across her oilskin clad chest and waited for her pa to answer.
“I don’t know, Honey,” Adam replied, “You may just
have to wait until Monday to find out.”
With that, Adam jumped lightly down to the muddy ground and walked to
the other side to help his daughter.
Swatting her lightly on the seat of her oilskin clad britches, he
directed her towards the front door of the house, instructing her to alert her
uncles to the supplies waiting in the back of the wagon. Eager to do as she was bid, Carrie trotted
inside, slamming the heavy door behind her.
*****
“Uncle Hoss…Uncle Joe…Pa wants you to help
unload the wagon!” Carrie
yelled up the stairs. Her uncles were
nowhere to be seen in the large room from whence she stood.
“Carrie!” a big voice boomed behind the little girl and
she slowly turned to find its origin.
“Oh…hi, Grandpa,” Carrie stammered, startled by
his presence. She had neglected to look
in the office, and their presence remained hidden in her peripheral
vision. Seeing her uncles standing
behind her grandfather, who was displaying some documents for their perusal, Carrie cleared her throat and said in a milder tone
of voice, “Um, Pa wants you, Uncle Hoss and Uncle Joe.”
“Yeah, we heard ya the first time, Youngun,” Hoss
said dryly as he moved around the corner of the big wooden desk towards the door,
pausing to muss up the wet curls on Carrie’s head.
“Carrie,” her grandfather addressed her again,
having lowered the volume of his voice as well as his papers, “you know better
than to enter this house, yelling like a banshee. If you want your uncles’ attention, you go
and find them. I
won’t have you shouting up and down the stairs at each other, is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Carrie said, chewing a bit on her
lower lip. Then, smiling sheepishly, she
removed her dripping oilskin and went to her grandpa’s side. “I made some new friends today, Grandpa,”
Carrie said excitedly, “Their names are Joseph, Kayda, and Elijah and they just
moved here from the
“That’s wonderful, Darling,” Ben replied, “Will we
be seeing them around the ranch anytime soon?”
“I hope so, Grandpa,” and Carrie proceeded to tell
him all about her encounter with the Ryder children and their tattered
appearance, and desire for candy, and big eyes…Ben didn’t get anymore work done
‘til after lunch.
*****
The next few days passed uneventfully. Carrie, who had so hoped that she would see
her new friends at church that Sunday, was disappointed, only to be delighted
again on Monday, when Joseph arrived for school.
Rushing to meet him, Caleb Michaelson trotted
along behind her, eager to be introduced to the new kid in town. Carrie exuberantly welcomed the boy and Caleb
extended his hand in greeting and was pleased when the child took the offering
lightly in his own, gazing at him with the biggest eyes Caleb had ever seen.
“Pleased to meet ya, Joseph,” the older boy
gushed, as his enthusiastic hand shaking made the smaller boy’s teeth chatter,
“My name’s Caleb.” The blonde youngster
let his eyes wander, assessing the younger child’s appearance. His blue eyes took in the meager and tattered
clothing Carrie had spoken of. Joseph, he decided, could
use a good meal, and
Caleb made it his mission to watch out for the smaller, less fortunate boy,
feeling obligated to be a protector, as well as a friend.
Joseph, Carrie noticed, was wearing the same
clothes she had seen him in, that rainy morning at Cass’ Mercantile. The ground was no longer muddy, the parched
soil having soaked it up, but Joseph’s feet were dusty and she saw that his
worn shirt and trousers had not been washed for awhile. None the less, Joseph was not the only child
at the
Caleb was trying to engage his new friend in
chipper conversation, animatedly reenacting the frog gigging expedition he and
his brothers had led over the weekend, when the bell sounded from the entrance
of the school, hastening the children to the double doors. Mr. Hudson awaited his pupils from the top
step of the porch and ushered them in.
When Carrie and Caleb approached their revered teacher with their young companion
in tow, Mr. Hudson’s face broke into a smile and he offered his hand to the
nervous boy.
“Well, who do we have here?” he asked, his face
set in a grin.
“This is Joseph Ryder, Mr. Hudson,” Carrie
informed him, “He’s new and he’s seven, so I guess he’ll be at the front with
the other first years.”
The middle aged man removed his spectacles and
patted Joseph’s head. “It’s a pleasure
to meet you, Mr. Ryder. If you’ll come
in, I will escort you to your seat.”
“Oh, Mr. Hudson,” Carrie looked awkward for a
moment before motioning for the older man to lean down so she could whisper
into his ear, “He doesn’t have a slate or a primer…”
The seasoned teacher cupped Carrie’s chin in his
hand and said, “Don’t worry, Carrie, I’ll see that he gets everything he
needs.” And with that, they all entered
the white, clapboard building that served as the schoolhouse.
*****
As Carrie and Caleb took their respective seats in
the small classroom, she noticed two of the bigger boys in her year level,
whispering and sneering as the dark haired, little scholar took his seat on the
bench at the front of the room.
“Now class,” Mr. Hudson cleared his throat, “We
have a new pupil with us today,” he motioned for Joseph to stand up, “This is
Joseph Ryder, he’s from the
Carrie jerked her head around to the sound of
stifled snickering and muffled comments.
Her eyes narrowed as she read the body language of two boys making fun
of another.
“Mr. Whitcomb and Mr. Fadely!” Mr. Hudson boomed from his position at the front
of the classroom, “Perhaps you would like to share with the rest of us, what it
is that you find so amusing?” Mr. Hudson
continued to stare at the rowdy boys, his lips set in an un-amused, thin line.
Breathing deeply and trying to get themselves
under control, Lucas Whitcomb and David Fadely were quick to utter, “No, Sir’s”
and “Sorry, Sir’s” before they angered their teacher any further.
Dismissing the interruption in an effort to move
on to more important matters, Mr. Hudson instructed the older children to began
writing an essay on their summer plans, while he composed simple arithmetic
problems on the wrap-around board, for the younger children.
Carrie had only just begun her essay when she
heard the garbled wisecracks of Lucas and David, seated only a few desks
away. She turned her head to glare at
them and saw Lucas pointing towards little Joseph and whispering something to
David. Wracking her brain as to why the
two rascals would have a problem with her new friend, she tried to focus on her
assignment, but as their mumbling continued, she found her frustration
beginning to grow.
Mr. Hudson, it seemed, had not noticed the
commotion in the back of the room, or if he had, he was choosing to ignore it
(which seemed unlikely to Carrie). Getting
Caleb’s attention, she motioned with a jerk of her head, to the desk where the
two boys sat. Recognizing the problem,
Caleb shrugged his shoulders, for he also, could not fathom a reason for their
antagonism of the “new kid”.
The morning dragged on, the only respite being
when Jacob Martin “accidentally” got Sally Harwell’s braid caught in his ink
well, turning the ends of her blond tresses a greenish black and sending her
into a fit of wailing, which in turn, sent Jacob Martin into the corner where
he spent the rest of his morning, until his classmates were released for lunch.
The
“Whatcha got in here, Joseph,” Lucas snarled, exaggerating the pronunciation of Joseph’s
name.
Grabbing the contents of Joseph’s lunch and
discarding them on the ground as he identified them, Lucas continued to heckle
the small boy. “A hunk of bread,” he
sneered, “Some cheese, and jerky…Figures a dirty injun’ like you would be
eating jerky for lunch.”
Carrie and Caleb got to their feet and Caleb
attempted to remove the lunch pail from Lucas’ hands as Carrie retrieved
Joseph’s lunch from off the dirty ground.
Poor Joseph only stood there, back to the tree trunk, cowering from
Lucas’ approach.
At the word “injun’”, Carrie’s head popped up and
she hastily stood, brushing the grass and dust off of Joseph’s food as she
squinted at the bigger boy, “Who are you calling a “dirty injun’?” she
demanded.
“Who do you think, Cartwright?” the boy poked a
dirty finger in Joseph’s direction, “I might have known you’d be an injun’
lover, just like the rest of your family.”
Carrie glanced at the small child who was
nervously studying his feet, his hands clasped tightly
behind his back, then returned her attention to the bully beside her. “What are you talking about, Lucas?” she
asked, her anger beginning to grow.
“I’m talking about your friend here, Joseph,”
Lucas replied, “My pa says his pa married a Sioux squaw over in the Colorado
Territory and had three brats by her.
After she died, they weren’t accepted by the tribe or
by the folks in town, so they had to move West. Why they came here though, I don’t know,”
Lucas took a step towards the frightened youth, “We don’t want you
either…rotten half-breed.”
At Lucas’ last comment, Carrie’s resolve
snapped. She had stood there, in shock,
listening to Lucas’ ramblings, clenching and unclenching her fists, but when
the last insult was spit from his mouth, she attacked the larger boy, heedless
of any warnings, issued from the lips of her pa, on the subject of fighting.
“Oomph!” All the air whooshed out of Lucas’ lungs and he
doubled over as Carrie’s head barreled into his abdomen. The blow caught the bully by surprise, never
suspecting the girl would attack, but the larger youth, no stranger to fist
fights, was far from beaten. Raising his
head to look directly into his assailant’s face, the boy’s eyes squinted with
determination.
“Take it back!” Carrie charged.
In
response, Lucas leaped onto the angry Cartwright and knocked her into the sandy
dirt below. Rolling around in the rough
soil, Carrie found herself growing dizzy, for at one moment she had the
advantage, mounted atop of the bigger boy, the next moment she felt the ground
beneath her back again.
Mr.
Hudson, who had been quietly eating his own lunch in the sanctity of his
classroom, could not help but hear the ruckus going on just a few feet from the
open window, near his desk. Leery of
anymore trouble, especially after the incident with the Martin boy, the sight
awaiting him was not a welcome one.
Rushing to the top of the white washed porch, his hands gripping the
wooden railing, he groaned as his weary brain absorbed the scene of undersized
pugilists, wrestling and exchanging blows.
Drumming up his remaining energy, and questioning his “calling”, the
graying man trotted down the stairs, and stormed over to the little brawlers.
Carrie
happened to be in the superior position, at her teacher’s interruption, and was
so bent on the bashing she was giving her schoolmate that she never saw his
approach. The dark-headed spitfire felt
herself being lifted into the air, and gripped at her upper arms, by the strong
hands of her teacher. By this time, all
reason had flown out the window, and any sense of impending chastisement was
non-existent. Fury had been on the side
of Carrie Cartwright, and as such was the case, she
had managed to beat her opponent into temporary submission. The feisty youngun’s yelling shattered the
serenity of the afternoon as Mr. Hudson carefully maneuvered around her
flailing arms and legs. The victim of
Carrie’s wrath saw her removal as his chance for escape, and hastily scooted
away from the swinging limbs.
The long-suffering man’s well of patience, almost depleted with the
wailings and dealings of little Sally and Jacob, drained completely at the
impact of Carrie’s heavy shoe to his knee. Mr. Hudson, who up to this point had been
holding on to the struggling Carrie, rather awkwardly, and trying to quell the
child’s anger, shifted her under his left arm.
Without hesitation, he landed a stinging swat to the little girl’s
bottom, raising a cloud of dust from the seat of her skirt.
The
angry child’s struggling immediately ceased as the shock of pain from her
teacher’s heavy hand swept through her.
Ol’ Mr. Hudson didn’t spank very often, but when he did it sure caught
one’s attention. Instinctively, she
moved her hands to protect her backside and ward off anymore ‘attention
getters.’
“Now
just simmer down, ya hear me?” her teacher bellowed and Carrie noticed his face
had turned very red. She did not return
to her kicking and arm waving so the frustrated instructor placed her on her
feet, facing him, but maintained a firm grip on her upper arm.
“You
okay, Lucas?” Mr. Hudson asked the ruffled boy who was standing a few feet away
from the duo, gingerly touching a split lip.
The youngster nodded and looking embarrassed,
searched for an escape route.
“Care
to tell me what you were fighting about?” Mr. Hudson aimed the question at his
favored student and then looked over at Lucas.
Lucas, he had no doubt, had been the instigator of this brawl, but he
had in no way been the winner, at least not when he, the teacher, had gotten
involved. Inwardly, Mr. Hudson smiled to
himself that Lucas had been whipped by a girl his own age, but he knew he could
not let the children get away with fighting.
Lucas studied the ground, red-cheeked, and kicked at a clod of dirt with
his toe.
Carrie
looked up into her teacher’s bespectacled face, and in response to his
question, relayed the conversation that had commenced between she and her
adversary, before they’d come to blows.
Angered
by what he heard Carrie saying, Mr. Hudson spun around to grasp Lucas by the
elbow and asked the child if what Carrie had said was true. Lucas stared into the gray eyes of the man
that held him tightly and acknowledged his guilt. Irritation mounting, Mr. Hudson turned to the
small, wide-eyed child, the cause of all the commotion, and apologized for
Lucas’ words. Nodding slightly, and
grasping the hand of Caleb, the little boy gazed at Carrie and stared at the
ground when he noticed the larger boy glaring at him.
Maintaining
his grip on both children, Mr. Hudson hastily made his way back into the
crowded room, unsure of what he was going to do with them. Possible consequences raced through the
usually patient man’s mind; he knew they should both be punished for fighting,
and that Lucas should be punished for his words to the young Joseph, but he was
hesitant to discipline Carrie for something he would have been hard-pressed to
resist, himself. But with Lucas on the
losing end of the fight, he couldn’t see himself justly punishing Lucas for fighting
and not Carrie.
Bemoaning
the responsibilities of his position, the solution eventually came to the
haggard teacher, and Carrie exited the schoolhouse that afternoon with a note
for her pa and a bruise forming around her left eye. Sensing the Whitcomb boy’s unceasing hatred
for him, Joseph stuck close to his champion’s heels as she slowly made her way
down the steps and towards the lean-to that housed her pony, as well as
Caleb’s.
In no
hurry to get home and face her father, Carrie locked eyes with her best friend
and knew that he was reading her mind.
Looking to her right, she glanced down at Joseph and saw the nervousness
in his eyes. “Where do you live,
Joseph?” Carrie asked him kindly.
Quietly,
Joseph replied, “A couple of miles outside of town, past the Sheriff’s office
and the Livery.”
“That’s
a long walk for a fellar with legs as short as yours,” Carrie smiled at her
friend, “Would you like a ride?”
A glint
of excitement flashed in Joseph’s large dark eyes, a gleam of happiness that Carrie
had not seen since she had handed him that bag of candy two days earlier. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said and
employed Caleb’s assistance in getting Joseph mounted onto Biscuit, before
mounting herself. Since her ninth
birthday, Adam had relented in letting his daughter ride to school alongside
her friend Caleb, on the conditions that they remained on the road together
until Caleb was forced to turn off towards his house, and that Carrie came
straight home.
Momentarily
forgetting, or perhaps ignoring, the latter promise to her pa, Carrie and Caleb
turned their horses towards Joseph’s home and tried to forget the impending
doom Carrie foresaw awaiting her back at the ranch.
*****
The calmness of the large living room was broken by
Carrie’s high-pitched shouts. Though
separated by thick walls and timber floors, the young one’s protests rang out
clearly. Hoss shook his head in
weariness and Ben placed one hand over his eyes with a sigh, as they heard the
little girl exclaim, “No, Pa, I’m NOT gonna DO it!”
This declaration was followed by a short pause and then several smacking sounds and the muffled tones of Adam’s voice. Though Adam’s words did not carry, as his daughter’s voice had, it was clear to the unfortunate audience, how angry he was. They were not kept waiting long before Adam’s heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Wearily he sank into the blue velvet chair, closest to the stairway, and rubbed at the pressure concentrated in the middle of his forehead.
“Brandy,
Son?” Ben offered the weary man a small snifter of the amber liquid.
“Thanks,
Pa,” Adam said as he gratefully accepted the drink and took a sip before
leaning back into his chair and shutting his eyes.
“She tell you what they were fighting about, Adam?” Hoss
inquired.
Adam
sighed and rested his elbows on his knees before raising his head and looking
into his brother’s blue eyes. “She told
me what the Whitcomb boy did to her friend Joseph, and what he said about him. Somehow, Lord knows where, Amos Whitcomb got
wind about the Ryder family’s background and saw fit to share his views with
his son. Lucas in turn, saw fit to make
the oldest Ryder boy feel as miserable and unwelcome as possible,” Adam said
dryly, “So she jumped him, unable to tolerate anymore of his cruelties against
her friend.” Adam stared at the floor
and took another sip of the brandy.
“What
is it that she so adamantly refused, Son?” Ben seated himself in the chair
opposite Adam’s and crossed his legs.
Adam
looked up, “You heard that, hm?” he looked back down, “Well I suppose it would
have been hard not to.” He rubbed at his
temples again and finished the brandy, setting the small glass on the
hearth. “She refused to apologize to
Lucas for attacking him. She agreed to
apologize to Mr. Hudson for fighting during school, but not to Lucas for
injuring him.”
“How
bad did she hurt him, Adam?” Hoss asked with a glint of amusement in his eye.
Adam
returned his brother’s gaze and smirked, “Split his lip and an eyebrow, and
blackened his left eye pretty well, from what I understand,” Adam smiled wryly,
“I understand why she
did it, but I can’t condone her fighting to solve her problems. On top of all that, she was over two hours
late coming home from school and couldn’t even start on her chores, and she knows the rules I set for
riding on her own. I didn’t know what had happened to her.”
“Is
that what you spanked her for, Adam?
Fighting and coming home late?” Joe asked his oldest brother from his
seat atop the wood box.
“You heard
that from down here too, eh?” Adam quipped, and he stared at the few logs
burning in the fireplace, “I spanked her because of the attitude she took with
me while I was trying to talk to her. She probably would have avoided that one
completely, had she controlled her temper.”
Mentally
smirking, Ben recalled another youngster who used to have trouble controlling
his temper “Do
you think she’ll apologize to the boy, Son?” Ben inquired.
Adam
looked over at his father, wondering when the pounding in his head would cease
and replied, “She’s going to have to if she expects to ride into school again
on her own. Those were my conditions,
and she’s aware of that. She had every
right to be angry about the things Whitcomb said, but she shouldn’t have
handled it with her fists.”
“At
least she don’t usually stay mad
after a fight,” Hoss observed, “seems to go back like normal after she’s had
some time to calm herself down.”
“And
she’s usually contrite after I’ve disciplined her, but I don’t know about this
time,” Adam glanced at the staircase, “she fought me all the way to that
spanking, and then I was the
one who needed some time to calm down.”
“Are you going to go back up and speak with her,
Adam?” Ben asked.
“Eventually,”
Adam replied, “I want to give us both the opportunity to settle down as much as
possible, before butting heads again.”
Hoss
gave his older sibling a sympathetic look and said, while rising to his feet,
“Well, I reckon I’ll head on to bed, Big Brother. Good luck,” and with that, Hoss said
goodnight to the both of them and proceeded up the stairs to his own
bedroom. The large man noticed, as he
opened the door to his room that he could hear Carrie’s muffled crying drifting
down the hall. His heart went out to his
beloved niece, but he knew that Adam had been right in his actions. Carrie’d already had some kind of consequence
comin’ and her disrespect when dealing with her father had just been the icing
on the cake. With hopeful thoughts that
the morning would bring happier times, Hoss shut the door to the mournful
sounds emanating down the corridor.
*****
Adam awoke during the early morning hours and
lifted his head from the pillow to catch a glimpse of the sparkling night. The sky had not yet begun to fade from its
dark navy hue to a lighter blue, and the stars and
moon cast their light onto the bed and floor.
Adam let his head sink into the feathers of his pillow and sighed. He was worried about his baby girl.
After
the senior Cartwright had retired, Adam stayed by the dying fire a few moments
longer, before making his way upstairs to check on the current cause of all his
worries. When he opened the door, his
eyes focused on the child, sprawled across the covers of her bed. As he came closer to her, Adam could see the
remnants of the tears she had shed and he reached out, placing his large hand
against her cheek, and leaned over and kissed her. Evidently exhausted, she didn’t even stir,
and Adam slid open a drawer of her bureau to retrieve her nightshirt.
With
great tenderness he pulled his daughter into a sitting position, leaning her
against his chest, and began to remove her clothing. As he slid the neck of the
gown over the brown curly head, Adam felt pangs of nostalgia and his mind
reverted to a time when he had helped a young Carrie, every evening, slip into
her nightclothes.
Things were easier back then, he
thought to himself, but he knew that wasn’t true. With a small smile he resolved, they were only different. Raising a child without one of the parents
was never easy, but they had made it through the tough times before, and they
would make it through this. With the
little comfort this resolution brought him, he tossed Carrie’s clothes onto the
chair in the corner of her room, and lifted her to him as he pulled down the
covers, and then tucked her underneath.
Settling
her head on the pillow, he whispered, “I love you, Carrie,” and he placed
another soft kiss on her forehead.
Raising himself from her side, he started to leave, but found he
couldn’t. He was caught, rooted in that
position, staring at his only offspring.
She looked so peaceful and innocent that all his previous frustrations
melted, replaced with a love so strong, he wondered how he was ever capable of
being angry with this angel.
Pa would laugh at that, Adam
mused, or would he? He ran a hand through his own thick waves and
speculated. He wondered if Pa had ever
felt the same way about he and his brothers.
Had Pa ever felt so much love for his boys that he had to question his
ability to be angry with them? Tough
call, Adam thought. He
knew from experience that the three boys had caused their father far more
heartache at a much younger age, than this little one could possibly dream
up. Still, he had waited too long to
speak with her; she was already asleep with the last thoughts in her mind, of a
spanking from an irate father, and being left alone to cry out her
sorrows. Adam shook the guilty feelings
from his brain before they had a chance to take root, and crossed the room to
extinguish the flame of the small lamp on the bureau beside the door. Blowing out the light, he closed his baby’s
door behind him, and crossed the hall into his own bedroom.
That
had been hours ago. Adam sighed again
and freed one foot from the thick quilted cover, letting it dangle beside the
mattress. The nights were getting warmer
and he had never enjoyed feeling constricted.
Lacing his fingers behind his head, his mind flitted across the events
of the day and he evaluated the choices he had made in dealing with the
youngest Cartwright…
Pacing in front of the large fireplace, Adam ran a hand through his black hair, and sighed, muttering, to no one in particular, his angst at his daughter’s absence. Fully expecting her at any moment, he struggled between jumping on his horse and searching for her, or letting his feelings simmer while he waited. Cursing his decision to ever allow his baby to transport herself to and from the school on her own, he had made up his mind to go and find her, when he heard hooves approaching fast, and he bolted through the heavy wooden door, out into the front yard…
(Two hours earlier…)
Carrie sucked in a deep breath as she and Caleb
came upon the home that Joseph claimed was his own. As she looked around for signs of an adult,
all she saw was a dilapidated shack, a structure she would never have mistaken
for a house. There were shingles missing
from the weather-beaten roof and no glass resided in the window frames; some
oil paper had been hung up, in an attempt to let the sun in and keep the rain
and nature, out. Behind the dwelling,
perhaps 30 yards away, lay an empty corral.
As she and Caleb rode closer, with her small passenger clutching her waist
from behind, a few chickens scattered and Carrie saw the front door open.
Standing partially behind the semi-open entrance,
was Joseph’s little sister, Kayda, whom Carrie had met at the Mercantile. Not far from her, was their baby brother,
Elijah, who looked as though he’d been playing in the dirt. He was covered, in Nevada dust, from head to
toe, and appeared to have a cold, for the child’s nose had obviously been
running and due either to lack of a handkerchief, or ignorance of how to use
one, the remnants had been smeared across his cheeks.
Caleb leaped down from his horse, first, and then
scurried over to Carrie’s to help the smaller child from his perch. The younger Ryder children remained in the
doorway, Kayda observing her brother with wide eyes, and the toddler, Elijah,
watching from a safer distance, with three dirty fingers in his mouth.
“Would you like to come in?” Joseph asked his
friends shyly, and kicked at a beetle with his toe.
Caleb and Carrie exchanged glances, and then with
a smile, said, “Sure.”
Upon entering the structure, Carrie could scarcely
believe her eyes at the conditions which presented themselves. The cottage was nothing more than a single
room containing a fireplace, an eating area, and a sleeping area. The first item that caught her attention was
a large trunk, positioned near the fireplace.
The leather bindings on the trunk, which apparently served as a table,
were old and cracked. There were a few
planks resting on pegs, that served as shelves and when Carrie looked up, she
could see that some of the holes in the roof had been hastily patched with clay
plaster and mud. There were two
mattresses lying on the floor on the other side of the room, stuffed, most
likely, with pine needles, which could be found in abundance, all around the
area. There were some food stuffs
sitting on the trunk, partially covered by a buffalo hide, Carrie figured, to
keep mice and other pests out. The
possessions they owned, she noticed, were kept as neat and tidy as possible,
with the dusty breezes and feet that entered and exited. Their belongings were sparse, but they were
clean.
Carrie tried not to look shocked, as she surveyed
Joseph’s meager lifestyle, and smiled at the boy instead.
“Don’t worry about Lucas Whitcomb, Joseph,” she
said gently, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.”
“Yeah,” Caleb agreed, “He doesn’t know anything
anyway…just a big, dumb, ox.”
Joseph looked at one companion, and then the other
and mumbled his thanks, attempting a grin.
Carrie, who was studying the appearances of the two younger siblings, could
not help wanting to be of assistance.
“Are you kids hungry?” she asked them, pleased to see their faces light
up. They had not forgotten her sugary
gift a couple of days prior. Carrie
smiled and walked back into the sunlight, removing her lunch pail from the
strap tied onto her saddle bag, and inspected its contents. Hop Sing always packed too much food into the
already large pail, and with the day’s excitement, Carrie hadn’t had a chance
to eat any of it. Inside the metal
bucket they found a thick roast beef sandwich, laid on two giant slices of
homemade bread, an apple, a slab of cheese, and an ample piece of Hop Sing’s
lemon pound cake. For the underfed,
Ryder children, the contents composed a feast.
Carrie carefully divided the food equally between Joseph and Kayda and
gave a somewhat smaller portion to the toddler, careful to tear his food into
smaller pieces so he wouldn’t choke.
Before she let the children eat, however, she made sure that they washed
themselves from the water in a bucket sitting near the doorway, paying careful
attention to the face of the youngest.
Happily watching the children devour her intended
meal, and chatting away with the no longer tongue-tied youngsters, Carrie
jumped up with a start when she realized how late she would be, getting
home. Issuing hasty good-byes, Carrie
grabbed her now empty lunch pail and jumped on Biscuit, kicking the dappled
mare into a canter down the road that led back to
Caleb was hot on her tail, knowing that he too
would be tardy, though not so much as Carrie, and when the two friends arrived
at the crossroads where they normally departed, they uttered quick farewell’s,
wishing the other good luck with their parents.
As Carrie continued down the path towards home,
images of Joseph’s house streaked through her mind. She couldn’t shake the emotions that had
swept through her heart when the little boy’s house came into view, and then
the feeling of being overwhelmed once she entered the lacking habitat. Carrie’s mind projected reflections of her
own home, at the Ponderosa, glimpses of her bedroom danced in her head,
pictures of the dinner table where she dined at least twice daily, on enough
food to feed the Ryder family for a couple of days. A sense of extreme sadness filled Carrie’s
heart and as she trotted home, she brainstormed on how to best help her new,
less fortunate, friends.
(Back at the Ponderosa…)
Bursting through the front door of the house and
into the sunlight, Adam shielded his eyes from the glare and his heart gave a
leap at the sight he beheld. His little
girl was all right and dismounting as he watched. Adam’s relief soon gave way to anger as he recalled
how worried he had been for the past two hours, not knowing if she was injured
or in trouble.
Storming over to his daughter, Adam spun her
around as her feet touched the ground, and demanded, “Where have you been,
Young Lady?”
Carrie looked up at her father in surprise, then
she realized the likely precariousness of her situation. She knew from the rumblings in her stomach
and the position of the sun, it was almost suppertime and she hadn’t even
started her chores. On top of all that,
she had a note for her father, from Mr. Hudson, detailing her noon-day
misdeeds.
“I…I’m sorry I’m late, Pa,” Carrie stammered,
“I…it’s a long story…but I didn’t mean to miss chores, Pa, honest!” Carrie looked into her father’s dark eyes,
trying to read his mind through his expression.
Adam was in no mood to hear excuses, after
trusting his little girl with the responsibility of conducting herself to and
from her obligations, he expected her to comply with his rules. After a moment of silent fuming though, Adam
realized that he was probably being a bit premature in his assumptions and decided
to let Carrie explain herself. He
listened patiently to the first part of Carrie’s story about escorting her new
little friend home and her shock at what she found there, but when the
meek-faced nine-year-old handed him a letter from her teacher, Adam’s anger
brewed once more.
“So you’ve been fighting again?” Adam asked, one
hand on his hip, leaning his face towards Carrie’s. “What have I told you about fighting?”
Carrie stared at her dusty shoes and spoke softly,
“That I shouldn’t solve my problems with my fists…” Carrie looked into her pa’s
unblinking eyes, “but he had it coming, Pa, honest he did. I just didn’t know what else to do.”
Adam sighed, and rubbed at the knot forming
between his brows. “Take care of Biscuit
and then get inside and eat your supper,” he instructed, “We’ll talk about it,
in your room, after we eat.”
Without another word, Carrie scurried to grab
Biscuit’s reins and lead the tired horse into the barn, turning back to catch a
second glance of her father’s face, hoping that his expression would relax and
his mood soften as she did what she was told.
Adam watched her go, relieved that she was okay, and frustrated by the
cards he’d been dealt. The last thing he
had wanted to do that evening was punish his daughter for wayward behavior...
That
had been hours ago. Adam slipped his
foot back under the covers and analyzed his own actions. After calming down and eating a good supper,
he had taken the time to listen to Carrie’s side of the story. He sympathized with her plight and it wasn’t
until Carrie became belligerent and rude, that he reacted with a spanking. Adam sighed and wished inwardly that it
hadn’t come to that, but though he felt sorry for Carrie’s friend and could
empathize with her feelings towards Lucas, she should have known better than to
behave as she had. Adam brushed off the
feelings of guilt and rolled over in his bed, determined that the morning would
shed light on all their situations.
*****
As the
rosy glow of the sun’s ascent cast streaks of gold into Carrie’s bedroom and
onto her sleeping form, Adam slowly opened the thick, wooden door, so as not to
make a sound, and crept into his daughter’s bedroom. Satisfied that he had not awakened her yet,
he felt his breath catch as he gazed at his beloved little girl. The light from the window had illuminated the
child’s face and Adam felt as though he was in the presence of an angel. At that moment, she no longer resembled him,
but rather her mother. Her long, dark
waves cascaded across her pillow like a mahogany waterfall, for Adam had
forgotten to braid the long tresses before he said goodnight.
Placing
his weight on one arm, Adam gently sat beside his daughter’s sleeping body, and
raised his other hand to brush a wayward curl aside. Carrie inhaled deeply and stretched her arms
over her head before opening her dark eyes to the brightness of the
morning. Trying to interpret the
semi-fretful, yet warm, expression on her father’s face, the memories
surrounding his previous departure flooded her mind and she was unsure of what
to say.
“Good
morning, Angel,” Adam crooned softly, allowing his left hand to remain on
Carrie’s forehead, his thumb playing with the curls that threatened to fall.
“’Morning,
Pa,” Carrie replied, and placed her left hand over her father’s right one,
squeezing the squishy pocket of skin and muscle between his thumb and
forefinger.
Adam
smiled and as he opened his mouth, intending to recite the words he’d prepared,
he was caught off guard when Carrie spoke first.
Maintaining
her grip on her father’s hand, Carrie gazed at him pensively and said, “I’m
sorry,
Adam
tried to hide his surprise and responded, “Sorry for what, Darling?”
Carrie
shifted her eyes to study the hand she was holding onto and explained, “I’m
sorry for yelling at you the way I did last night. I shouldn’t have done that…I…I guess I was
just upset about Lucas and…and Joseph and…” her voice trailed off. “Anyway, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like
that, and I’m sorry.” She looked back
into her father’s eyes.
Adam
shifted his gaze from her left eye and then to her right, and squeezing her
hand assured her that all was forgiven.
“Let’s just forget about it now, all right?”
Carrie’s
smile became a mischievous grin as she asked, “Does that mean I don’t have to
apologize to Lucas anymore?” a hint of pleading resounding in her voice.
Adam
landed a mock swat to Carrie’s left hip and added, “No ma’am,
that order still stands.”
With a sigh
of resignation Carrie shrugged and said, “Well, it was worth a try.”
Tousling
her already tangled hair, Adam began to rise saying it
was about time for Carrie to get ready for her day, when Carrie pulled him back
down beside her.
“Pa?”
Carrie pulled herself into a sitting position and leaned back against the
headboard, crossing her legs in front of her, Indian style, and tucking her
hair behind her ears so she could look into her pa’s face unobstructed.
“Hm?” Adam responded.
“I was thinkin’ ‘bout some things last night, after…well, you
know,” Carrie’s cheeks flushed for a moment and Adam’s lips curved into a
smile, “and I got to thinkin’ about what the Rev.
Curtis had to say in church last Sunday…about ‘counting our blessings’?” Carrie chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully.
“Well,
Pa, I thought about the things that Joseph and his family had to be thankful
for, and then I started thinking about all the things that I have to be thankful for…”
Carrie paused, “and Pa…there were too many to count. I think I fell asleep tryin’
to count all my blessings.”
Adam
marveled at his daughter’s compassionate perceptiveness and tried to recall the
last time he had thanked God for all their blessings.
“Pa,”
Carrie continued, “Why is it that some people, like us, have a whole lot of
blessings and other people, like the Ryders, don’t have hardly any?” Carrie’s large eyes grew wider as she
searched for the answer on her father’s face.
Adam
remained quiet for a moment and replied, “I don’t know the answer to that,
Carrie, but I can tell you this…that God wants those of us who have been graced
with many blessings to share with those who haven’t as much. By sharing with others, and being good
stewards of what God has granted us, we can show honor and thanks to Him that
gave it.” Adam paused to see if she understood the point that he was trying to
make. “Do you understand?” he asked.
Carrie
looked serious and nodded her reply, assuring that she did, indeed,
understand. “Can you think of a way we
can share our blessings with the Ryders, Pa?” she implored.
Adam
did not answer her right away, but after a moment, gave her hand a final
squeeze and as he lifted himself off of the bed, reached down to cup her chin
and said, “I’ll try, Honey, I’ll try.”
And with that, he exited the room, leaving Carrie to dress and ready
herself for the day.
*****
Arriving
at the breakfast table, Carrie appeared to have regained her typical
cheerfulness and dominated the morning conversation. Hoss and Little Joe had left before dawn, to
get an early start on some fences that needed repairing in the North
pastures. Adam and Ben exchanged amused
glances as Carrie chatted on and on, barely pausing to partake of the good
breakfast Hop Sing had prepared. Before
long it was time for Carrie to head off for school and as she scooted her chair
away from the table, she was dismayed to see her father do the same.
“You’re
not planning on taking me to school this morning, are you, Pa?” Carrie tried not to whine, but it was hard.
Adam
wiped the remnants of breakfast from his mouth, placing the cloth napkin on his
plate and smiled at his daughter. “We
had a deal remember?” he asked, “You apologize to Lucas and you can ride on
your own.”
“But
I’m going to apologize this morning, Pa, I promise,” Carrie argued.
“Well,
you haven’t apologized yet so if you don’t mind, I’ll just tag along this
morning, okay?” Adam finished the discussion with a poignant look. “At any rate,” he added, “I’ve got some
business to attend to in town, so let’s get a move on shall we?”
Carrie’s
lips formed a pout for a few seconds, but she soon brought her sulking to a
halt as her father began walking towards her.
Without another word, she scurried out the door, grabbing her satchel of
books from the sideboard and almost forgetting her lunch pail. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Adam
left the same way, shutting the heavy door behind him.
Ben,
sitting with his elbows on the table and his fingers laced, smiled as he
watched the two leave, grateful that at least one of his sons was enjoying the
perks of fatherhood. Silently he wished
the same blessing on his other two sons one-day, and
carried his cup of coffee into the office to begin some dreaded book-work.
*****
Carrie
did not remain completely silent on her way into school that morning and Adam
reflected on her ability to “bounce back”.
She was not a brooder as he had often been as a child and he was glad
for that. He didn’t think there was room
for two temperamental people in the family.
Caleb
greeted the Cartwrights upon their arrival at the schoolhouse, and the blonde
boy stared up at Adam with big eyes, as he wished him a ‘good morning’. Adam returned the greeting and searched the
yard for the Whitcomb boy, but Carrie again, beat him to the punch. With a firm jaw and a look of determination,
Carrie made her way over to the bully and Adam was silently pleased when the
larger boy’s saucy demeanor gave way to a look of apprehension at Carrie’s
approach. Adam wondered sometimes about
Carrie’s femininity and ‘unladylike’ tendencies that, no doubt, she adapted
from her all-male family; but he dismissed the thoughts, realizing that
Carrie’s mother would have behaved the same way.
Satisfied
that Carrie had done as he bid, he waved goodbye to his daughter and turned his
horse towards town, hoping to finish his duties before lunch and searching for
a way to ease the Ryders’ financial situation as he had promised his daughter
he would do.
*****
As Adam
plodded down the road and approached Jake Blanchard’s Livery, he observed two
men, deep in conversation, standing in front of the large building. One man, a tall thin fellow whom Adam did not
recognize, was holding the leads of five of the finest-looking horses Adam had
seen in quite some time. The other man,
whom Adam recognized as Jake, appeared to be upset about something and was
gesticulating his displeasure in a manner that befit
only the ornery, stable owner. As Adam
drew closer, he watched Jake move nearer the other man and shove him back
towards his horses. The bedraggled
looking victim of Blanchard’s onslaught was obviously angered by the move, but
did not retaliate. Instead of exchanging
blows with the larger man, he wearily retreated to his mount, his cargo in tow
behind.
His
curiosity aroused, not only by the argument, but also by the beautiful beasts
in the man’s charge, Adam directed his horse towards the stranger’s route and
was pleased to see him pause at the communal horse trough outside the Silver Dollar.
Adam
stopped and dismounted outside the saloon, tying his horse’s reins to the
hitching post, and taking a few steps towards the trough. “’Morning,” Adam said placing a boot on the
rim of the trough and extending a hand towards the man. “Name’s Adam Cartwright,” he said cheerfully.
Adam’s
observant eyes absorbed the details of the man who took his hand and shook
it. He was an average looking man, about
Adam’s height and appeared to be around the same age. The gentleman’s clothing was worn, but clean
and he had a haggard appearance. His
dark hair was rather long and his eyes were large, but weary looking.
“Ryder,”
the man replied gruffly, “John Ryder.”
He removed his hand from Adam’s grasp and continued watering his horses.
“Ryder,”
Adam paused, “You wouldn’t happen to be the father of one Joseph Ryder, would
you?”
The tired man looked up in
surprise and his eyes narrowed a bit. “I
might,” he said slowly, “it depends on who’s asking.”
Taken
aback for a moment, Adam was quick to respond, “My daughter Carrie has taken
quite a liking to your son. We’ve been
learning of him and your other children through her stories.” Adam looked up at the man, trying to read his
mood through the expression on his face.
“I couldn’t help but notice the conversation you were having with Jake a
few moments ago,” Ryder looked at him expectantly, “I was wondering if you were
having some sort of problem I might be able to help you with.” Adam took his foot from the trough and
removed his hat, brushing off some of the dust, and glancing at his new
acquaintance for a reaction.
The
careworn man looked thoughtful for a moment and caught Adam’s eye. “Mr. Blanchard and I had a deal,” he
explained, “or so I thought…” he looked back at his horses.
Seeing
where his focus lay, Adam tried another approach. “Those are some fine looking animals you have
there, Mr. Ryder. Mind if I ask where
you got them?”
Focusing
on the task at hand, John replied, “Caught ‘em myself…broke ‘em and trained
‘em.” He affectionately patted the
muzzle of the horse that was drinking and waited for Adam to respond.
“I’ll
be honest with you,” Adam admitted, “I haven’t seen horses like that for a good
while…I, uh, don’t suppose there’re for sale?”
Ryder’s
eyes widened, “That all depends on what you’re willing to pay for them,” he
muttered, pausing, “Blanchard didn’t seem to think they were worth the price we
originally agreed upon.”
Adam
frowned, guessing at the reason for Blanchard’s balking. Moving closer to the man’s small herd Adam
took the liberty of checking the teeth and rubbing his knowledgeable hands down
the flanks and legs of the five animals.
“Yessir,” he enthused with a pat to one animal’s glossy neck, “these are
beautiful animals.” Walking back towards
the man Adam continued, “I’ll give you $75 a piece for them…that is, if you
think that’s a fair price.” Adam
suppressed a smile as his new friend paled.
Taking the liberty of Ryder’s silence, Adam recanted. “On second thought,” he said, “these
stallions are worth more than the mares.
I’ll give you $100 a piece for the stallions and $75 for the mares. That should come to…$450? If that’s agreeable of
course.” Adam stopped speaking and waited for a response. Mr. Ryder looked as though he were finding it
hard to breathe, let alone reply.
“I’ll
take your silence as a yes, then, Mr. Ryder?”
Adam grinned.
John
Ryder managed to nod and then seemed to find his voice. “Are you sure about this Mr. Cartwright?” he stammered,
“They’re nice horses all right, but that’s an awful lot of money, even for
them.”
Adam
maintained his smile and answered, “Nonsense, Mr. Ryder, there’re gorgeous
beasts and they’ll be an asset to our ranch and stock. I consider them a bargain, even at that
price…and by the way, it’s Adam, not Mr. Cartwright.”
Nodding
again, the stunned man extended his hand towards Adam and smiled. “It’s John, Mr., uh, Adam,” he stammered.
“John,
it’s not everyday that I run across animals like this. Do you have a steady supply of these
specimens?” Adam cocked his head and
replaced his dusted hat.
“Well…Adam,”
John stuttered, sounding ill at ease with the use of Adam’s first name, “I’m
new to the area, but I’m hoping, given some time, to have a regular supply of
this caliber…that is, if I can maintain a market for ‘em.”
Adam
nodded his understanding at the man.
“John, we’re always searching for “this caliber” at the Ponderosa. If you’re willing, I’d like to offer you a
contract guaranteeing us horses of this stature and quality, and guaranteeing
you some steady income…that is, if you think you’re up to it.”
“Oh,
Mr. Cartwright, I mean Adam,” John quickly corrected himself, “I’m more than
willing. It’s a deal!” John continued to shake Adam’s hand exuberantly,
a grin splitting his leathered face from ear to ear.
“I’m
happy to hear that, John,” Adam declared, and invited John to accompany him
back to the Ponderosa where they might draw up the necessary papers, including
a bill of sale. As the two men, equipped
with their small cavalry, rode back to the ranch, Adam imagined the happiness
on his little girl’s face when she heard the news, and silently thanked God for
their many blessings, and the opportunity he’d been given to share with their
neighbor.
*****
“Pa!”
Carrie shouted as she bolted through the front door into the great room where
her father sat reading. “Where did those
horses in the corral come from? They’re
beautiful!”
Adam
set down the book he was reading and stood from his chair. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I
could tell you just that,” Adam started.
As Carrie approached her father, Adam sat down on the settee and patted
the space next to him, indicating that she sit beside him.
Pushing
a stray curl aside from her forehead, Adam studied Carrie’s face and continued,
“I met someone in town today…a man named John Ryder.” Adam paused for Carrie’s reaction and was
pleased to see her eyes light up. “It
turns out that your friend Joseph’s, Pa, is an excellent judge of horseflesh…and
I was able to purchase those horses from him this afternoon.” Adam couldn’t hold back a grin as Carrie
jumped from the settee in excitement.
“Oh,
that’s wonderful, Pa!” Carrie squealed and jumped on her father, nearly
strangling him with her hug. “That means
Mr. Ryder will have some money to buy the things they need. Thank you, thank you, Pa!” she gushed.
Adam
loosened her grip from his neck, but kept her on his lap. “I have even better news, Sweetheart,” Carrie
stared at him, unblinkingly waiting for him to surprise her with something that
would surpass what he’d already said.
“It
seems that Mr. Ryder used to deal in horses, back where they came from, and at
one time made a pretty decent living out of it.
I told him that the Ponderosa would continue buying from him on a
regular basis if he could guarantee us the same quality animals as those I
purchased today.” Adam did not have to
wait long for the excited child’s response.
Leaping
onto her father’s neck once more, Carrie smothered her daddy’s face in
kisses. “Oh, Pa, you’re the greatest pa
in the whole world. I knew you’d come up with something, I
just knew it!”
Typically
uncomfortable with such blatant displays of emotion, Adam waited a moment for
Carrie to settle down and repositioned her on his lap. “Carrie,” Adam said softly, incapable of
escaping his daughter’s entrancing smile, “I want you to know how proud I am of
you.” Carrie looked at him,
puzzled. “You showed great compassion
and love for your friends this week, which reveals a maturity beyond your
years,” Adam squeezed her leg and continued, “You’re so much like your mama
sometimes, she could never let anyone go hungry, or bypass anyone who was
hurting. I want you to know…that no
matter how frustrated I may get with you at times...I will always be proud of you. Do
you understand?"
Her
smile never wavering, Carrie gently locked her hands behind her pa’s neck and
nodded, “I think so,
Staring
at his only child for a moment, Adam’s baritone laughter soon resounded through
the great room, joined by treble-pitched giggling, and the two of them stayed
in that position for many moments, enjoying the sound of each other’s
merriment, until bleary-eyed and panting, they walked out into the sunlight to
inspect their latest investments.
The End