Nobody
Here But Us Chickens
By K.K. Shaulis
“This is for the birds!” 12 year old Little Joe Cartwright was supposed to be but he just couldn’t sleep. If the truth be told, he was sulking. Why couldn’t he go to the dance with the rest of the family? He was feeling a whole lot better…his nose wasn’t running half as bad as it was the day before and he was coughing …cough, cough, cough…hardly at all. “Well, at least my nose ain’t running as much,” he said to himself shifting positions in the red velvet chair by the stove and sighed.
You know, there was only one little woman in the house right now but even
she was not as much of a “mother hen” when it came to him as his father
and his 17 year old and 23 year old brothers were. That woman was his 21
year old cousin Josephine Marie who had just arrived fresh from Europe where
she had been touring for the summer with some of her college friends. Josey
– much better suited to her than her given name, in Joe’s opinion -- argued
long and loudly with Pa, Adam and Hoss that going to the dance would not
hurt Joe in the least and that, in fact, “it may be good for him to get
out for some fresh air.” She made the point that he’d been “cooped up” for
the last week and “sent to bed with the chickens” by “you three mother hens,”
he smiled to himself.
Joe then laughed as he recalled the rest of the conversation between Adam
and Josey. The two of them always fought with each other but this one had
the makings of a real cockfight – before Pa stopped it, that is. The two
squared off like bantam roosters and called each other things that Joe had
never heard before. Then Adam said something to her in a foreign language
that apparently wasn’t very nice and smirked at her. Josey then squawked,
got real mad and took a swing at old Adam but Hoss caught her by the waist
moving her out of range of Adam’s stomach and over toward Ben who wagged
his finger in her face and told her to behave or else. The “or else” part
brought her back to her senses. Hoss set her down on her feet and Ben delivered
what all of them knew would be the final edict on the subject, “He can’t
go and that’s final!!!!” he roared and stalked away toward the kitchen.
Before they left at six o’clock and unbelievably after he was in his nightshirt,
they – Pa, Adam and Hoss -- made sure that he was securely tucked into his
bed and that he had some warm peppermint tea in a pot by his side and his
homework. What a way to spend a Saturday night! He groaned to himself at
the time.
During this operation, his cousin Josey, dressed in a gown that matched
the color of her auburn hair, stood in the doorway of his room clucking
more than a few times at the men-folk and rolling her eyes muttering “mother
hens.” Adam, of course, scowled at her and she, of course, told him he shouldn’t
“get his feathers all ruffled” and did her best chicken imitation out in
the hall. Adam then lunged at her but Ben, weary of the squabbling between
his oldest and his niece, grabbed Adam by the back of the waistband of his
pants to stop him from reaching Josey and committing fowl…er…foul play.
Ben then told Hoss to put Josey in the carriage. Hoss, anxious to get to
the dance and Bessie Sue Hightower, firmly took the petite redhead by the
arm and quickly escorted her down the staircase and out the door.
In the meantime, Ben sternly lectured Adam again about his going off half-cocked and letting Josey get to him. Looking back, Joe enjoyed this part of the whole thing the best… Pa yelling at his big brother who normally could do no wrong...it was a dream come true! Of course, Pa had to get back to him eventually and he did in spades, once more repeating explicit instructions about not leaving his room and turning down the lamp at eight. “We’ll be home by ten but I expect that you will be sound asleep by then, Joseph.” Clearly it was a command more than an expectation.
“Yes, sir,” Joe muttered, rolled his eyes and sighed disgustedly. This did not go unnoticed by his father, however.
“Mind me on this or when I return, there will be dire consequences!” Ben’s voice had a sharp edge to it. “I’m trusting you to do as I say. I’d stay home if I wasn’t for that …award, you know,” he looked to heaven as if God was going to magically get him out of it. Obviously God was busy elsewhere because Pa, his brothers and his cousin departed shortly thereafter.
Joe lay upstairs for the longest time after they left, bored out of his
mind. Then he wrestled himself out of his bed which took considerable doing.
Why didn’t they just tie me up? he wondered at the time as he struggled
to free himself from the ‘tuck’ job done by his father. You’d think I was
three or something!
Joe glanced at the grandfather’s clock and sighed. Nine fifteen. Three quarters
of an hour until they were supposed to be home. He really should be getting
to bed but, boy -- his stomach growled -- was he hungry! It was funny…when
he was a little kid, he ate like a bird but now that he was starting to
get his whiskers -- he thoughtfully touched the two little hairs that had
just erupted on his chin last week -- he was starting to be real competition
for Hoss when it came to food. Maybe a little popcorn would help him get
through until morning? Didn’t they always say something like ‘feed a cold
and starve a fever?’ Well, he had a cold…cough, cough, cough…he coughed
again as if to make sure it was still so.
Now, because he was the baby of the family, Joe never really had to pop any corn by himself. He always had the three “mother hens” plus Hop Sing to do it for him. But how really hard could it be if his brothers could do it? He pulled the heavy sack of corn out of the storage bin near the wood box and set it down on the hearth directly in front of the roaring fire. He then lifted the lid off the big black kettle that hung from the rear of an andiron and looked into it thoughtfully. One thing he knew was that he needed to put a little lard in first. That was easy enough. Hop Sing always kept the lard in a can on a shelf in the kitchen and Hop Sing would never know if he snuck in the kitchen to get it. After all, the Chinese cook himself was under the weather too and had put himself to bed early that afternoon after he left a pot of chicken soup on the stove for the family. Joe giggled wondering what would have happened if his male relatives would have tried to “tuck” Hop Sing in as he retrieved the can of lard and dumped the whole thing into the cooking pot.
“Okay, how much corn do you put in anyway?” Joe asked himself as he picked
up the sack and poised it over the kettle.* He figured he could probably
eat a kettle full of the popcorn – after all, he was a growing boy -- and
reasoned that probably filling it half full with the kernels would probably
be just enough.**
He then had second thoughts about the amount of popcorn he used when he
put the sack of corn away.
“I’ll feed whatever I can’t eat to the chickens,” he shrugged and settled down on the pier table to wait.
He waited and waited and waited to the point when he wondered whether it would ever….sizzzzzzzz….sput-ter…..sizzzzzzz. The lard finally melted. He glanced over at the grandfather’s clock again. Nine-thirty. Then he heard a POP! He picked up the poker and used it to gently shake the pot to and fro. He didn’t know why exactly he was doing it – Hoss and Adam did it he knew -- but it seemed to make the whole thing less boring so why not?
POP! POP! POP!
He smiled and shook it a little more vigorously this time.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
This ain’t gonna take any time at all, he grinned.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
He then began to poke the kettle to the rhythm of the noise coming from
inside it.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
Has to be done soon, I hope, Joe looked warily at the kettle after three minutes of continuous popping but nonetheless continued to shake it from a distance with the poker.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
Joe jumped to his feet as the lid of the kettle started to rise up from
the sheer volume of the popped corn!
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
POP! POP! POP! POP!
Oh, oh.
The force of the contents was just too great. Some of the popcorn started to escape from under the heavy iron lid and bounce into the fire, incinerating instantly. As luck would have it, the smoke from the burning kernels wafted upward and intermingled with the other smoke on the way up the chimney. The aroma from the burnt popcorn, however, permeated the entire room.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
The lid hit the hearth with a loud combination of CLANG-CLATTER-BANG!!!!! but the relentless popping continued. Joe was stunned. Without the heavy lid to contain it, the popcorn began to shoot up from the kettle and bounce out onto the floor at a rate that rivaled any blizzard he’d ever seen. ***
Five minutes later the corn was still popping and continuing to pile up like a snowdrift all around him as he stood gaping at it. It was ankle deep and what’s more it covered a good bit of the area between the fireplace…
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
…and the pier table. He was really beginning to feel nauseous not only because of the smell but also because he remembered all of a sudden Pa’s warning of “dire consequences.” Now what was he…? Oh no, he froze as he heard footsteps outside and the front door swing open.
“…And one and two… twirl… and one and two…twirl…and ….,” his pretty little redheaded cousin laughed lyrically as his middle brother whirled her through the front door and around and around and around. “Now…turn and take my right hand and…” Josey instructed but Hoss was not paying attention. He suddenly stopped short causing her to almost trip – he caught her before she did -- and listened to…
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
…then he began to sniff deeply taking in the aroma of the...
“Burnt popcorn?” Josephine also turned and caught sight of her youngest cousin near the massive stone fireplace and…
“Help,” Joe’s face clearly communicated the fact that he did indeed need
“help.”
“Little Joe, what are you doing….?” she gaped at him and the mess of white
kernels that surrounded him.
“I was hungry...” Joe smiled weakly at Hoss and Josey.
“You must have been,” Josey giggled looking down at the floor where he stood. Suddenly a kernel POP-ped out of the kettle in front of her and caused her to jump back in surprise.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
“Dadburnit, Little Joe!” Hoss stepped right into the middle of the ankle-deep crunchy POP-ping snack. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he grabbed his little brother under the armpits and hoisted him up so that he was standing on the pier table and coincidentally eye to eye with him. “Pa’s gonna singe your tail feathers but good. He’s already mad at Adam and me and Josey here…”
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
“Where… is… Pa?” Joe stammered looking nervously back toward the front door and covered his tail feathers just in case.
“He and Adam had a little business to talk over with Mr. Johnson. There was a fight and we all…well, that’ll wait for tomorrow if we’re lucky,” Hoss surveyed the heaps of popcorn and then back at Joe. “We’ve got probably 15 minutes to get this place clean before he shows up here.”
POP! POP! POP! POP!
“Quick, Hoss! Take the kettle outside and give the popcorn to the chickens while I get a broom and a dustpan,” the little redhead was already on her way to the kitchen.
POP! POP!
“I could eat it, you know,” Hoss yelled into the kitchen after her and then crammed a fistful into his mouth and began to chew. “I kin eat a powerful lot of popcorn, Josey,” he mumbled with his mouth full.
POP!
“Not a kettleful in 15 minutes, Hoss, and everything on the floor,” she returned with the aforementioned cleaning implements and two heavy padded clothes that she handed to her cousin. “Just get it to the chickens,” she began to sweep the white stuff into a pile.
POP! POP! POP!
“Okay,” he reluctantly picked up the big black cook pot with the pads and quickly but carefully -- since it was still hot. “A snow shovel might work better than a broom, though,” he chuckled as he carried the kettleful of popcorn across the room, opened the front door and took it outside.
“What’ll I do, Josey?” Little Joe was still up on top of the table where Hoss put him.
POP!
“Hold this,” she handed the kettle lid to him. “Then when Hoss gets back with the…” she stopped and shrieked….
“Eeeekkkkk!!!!”
….in surprise when six of Hop Sing’s best and biggest white leghorn layers literally and figuratively flew through the front door, flapping and cackling wildly. They were quickly followed by Adam, obviously in hot pursuit of the poultry.
“What’s in blue blazes is going on in here?” Ben roared from the doorway surveying the scene. “Joseph, you…” he was almost knocked over by Hoss, kettle in hand, now empty, who was likewise chasing three more invading chickens toward the fireplace, the pier table, his little brother and his girl cousin.
“Excuse me, Pa,” his middle son managed to say as he rushed by, “But could ya close the door so no more chickens git in?”
Ben threw up his hands in frustration. “Why not?” He reached over and snatched a Plymouth Rock rooster as it tried to scurry by him. He then turned around with it just in time to head a number of its followers back out into the yard before they too were in the house.
“What happened, Hoss?” Josey yelled sidestepping the birds that had now honed in on the spilled popcorn.
“The little rascals escaped, that’s what!” he set the kettle down on the
stone hearth, grabbed the two leghorns while they were otherwise preoccupied,
raced to the front door with them.
Adam who was chasing another one screeched to a halt in the half foot of
popcorn to avoid hitting the little redhead and grabbed her -- his cousin,
not the chicken -- by the shoulders so she -- his cousin, not the chicken
-- wouldn’t tumble backwards into the fireplace.
“Watch where you’re going, ya dumb cluck!” Josey put her hands on her hips and glared up at him.
“Get out of the way, Josey!” Adam squawked at her and then in one motion
picked her up along with her broom, swung her up on the pier table beside
Joe, and continued the chase.
Josey quickly decided to have a little fun with her cocksure oldest cousin
for the happenings at the dance. “Watch this,” she whispered to Joe and
whacked Adam in the backside with the broom on the pretense of helping him
head off his quarry. “Oops… sorry,” she cackled as the twelve year old giggled
knowing full well what his girl cousin was doing.
“Josey, so help me…!” Adam shook his fist at Josey as she struck him again
in the behind and laughed.
Adam scowled at her and then tried to grab the broom from her but she held on tight. He tried again and she held on even tighter and stuck out her tongue at him for good measure. “Chicken!”
“That tears it!” he yanked the broom toward him with all his might so
she lost her balance and then swatted her sharply on her posterior with
his right hand. It worked!
She yelped, released the broom and nearly teetered off the table but for
Joe grabbing her to steady her.
Triumphant, Adam raised the broom as if it were Excalibur and then began to use it to steer the big chickens toward the front door. Josey stood there beside her littlest cousin and, in spite of Adam’s assault on her bottom, she continued to chortle.
It took about two more minutes of clucking and squawking and flapping before Hoss and Adam managed to tackle the rest of the noisy leghorns. Hoss shoved the last one out as their father once again stepped through the front door. While his older sons were dealing with the inside poultry, he had been securing the outside ones in the chicken coop once more. Hands on his hips, Ben glared at his youngest from across the room ready to pick up where he left off.
Joe winced as Ben slowly stalked toward him, his dark eyes glowing. With each step he took, the twelve year old could feel the increasing heat emanating from his father. In fact, he was absolutely certain that any ‘old maids’ lying on the floor were going to pop and start jumping around the floor as soon as his father looked down at them. And now of all things he was starting to get hot himself. Sweat began to roll down his neck and unto his back. Was it his nerves or was it…? Hey! He was sick, right? Well…
“Oh, Pa, I’m so sorry, but I was so hungry,” Joe whined and then sniffed before Ben could growl little more than...
“Joseph…”
“…And Hop Sing was so sick too I couldn’t ask him to make something for me,” Joe continued to whine and threw in a few coughs …cough, cough, cough… for good measure.
Ben’s blazing glare cured Joe’s cough in no time flat. He immediately stopped coughing, smiled weakly at his Pa and began to fidget on top of the table.
“Didn’t I tell you there’d be dire consequences if you weren’t in bed when we got back?” Ben hissed glowering at his youngest.
Joe gulped and covered his tail feathers once more while his cousin stepped in front of him to shield him.
“Come on, Uncle Ben,” Josey spoke softly and gently put her hand on her uncle’s right shoulder. “He didn’t mean to cause a mess…after all, he’s sick and he didn’t get to go to the dance…You can’t expect him to stay in bed anyway on a Saturday night, can you?”
“I expect him to obey me,” Ben glared at both of them, unbuttoned one of his sleeves and began to fold it up. “I know that this may be news to you, Josephine, but I do on occasion expect obedience from the members of my family including you.”
Oh, no! Josey and Joe thought looking at each other as he made short work of his other sleeve, untied his tie and loosened his collar.
“He feels awfully warm, Uncle Ben,” Josey placed her hand dramatically on her baby cousin’s forehead to check his temperature. Joe added to the illusion by looking sickly again. She then put her hand on her uncle’s arm this time and looked at him curiously. “Why, you feel awfully warm too, Uncle Ben,” she moved her hand to his forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” She slid the back of her hand down his cheek in a soothing fashion.
“Poppycock!” Adam remarked haughtily leaning on the broom while Hoss asked in a concerned way, “You okay, Pa?”
Ben was slightly taken aback by his niece’s somewhat suspicious observation, given the circumstances as well as his oldest son’s offhanded one. However, he had to admit that he had been feeling queasy for the last hour or so, his throat was beginning to hurt and he was, if the truth be told, hot. Of course, he just had been chasing chickens around the yard which could account for his temperature rise but…
“Josephine….,” Ben began to wag his finger in her face but changed his mind. “Oh, forget it. It’ll wait until tomorrow,” he sighed wearily and put his arm around Joe’s shoulders. “Come on, Joseph,” he urged his twelve year off the pier table and down into the crunchy popcorn. “Let’s get you back in bed for now and see if you’ve got any of that peppermint tea left. I think I could use a little to settle my stomach even if it is cold. You too, Josey,” he looked back to see the little redhead once again egging Adam on from her roost on the tabletop. “If you don’t mind.” His tone clearly indicated that she better not mind at all, if she knew what was good for her.
“Here, Jose,” Hoss stepped forward, picked up his little cousin by the waist and swung her over to a popcorn free area of the floor.
“What about this mess, Pa?” Adam motioned with the broom to the very deep layer of popcorn not to mention several feathers and droppings**** that covered the area between the fireplace and the table. “Shouldn’t Josey help…?”
“You and Hoss can take care of it, I’m sure,” Ben headed toward the stairs by way of the route around the settee pushing his baby son ahead of him and dragging his niece by the hand behind him. “It’s the least you can do after…never mind. We’ll discuss all of this tomorrow.”
“But, I …er…we…” Adam stammered while Hoss rolled his eyes toward heaven
and picked up the black kettle again. God was still busy from earlier in
the day when Ben was looking for help because Hoss didn’t get an answer
either.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo, Mr. Rooster!” Josey noted her oldest cousin’s reaction
to his father in amusement and smirked at Adam.
“You know, Hoss,” Adam sighed crossing his arms over his chest and consequently embracing the broomstick, “There’s an old Scottish proverb that says that it’s a sad house when the hen crows louder than the rooster,” he looked pointedly at his cousin and then his eyes met his father’s.
“Well, son,” Ben stopped, his right foot on the bottom stair step. “I know a few old proverbs myself. Here’s an old Russian one,” he gave Adam a look that spoke volumes. “Rooster today, feather duster tomorrow. Understand?”
Adam straightened up and smiled uneasily at his father. “Sure, Pa,” he said beginning to sweep the popcorn toward Hoss and the kettle which was now lying on its side so as to act as a giant dustpan.
“I’ve heard that a hard boiled egg is yellow inside, too, Adam,” Josey added laughing at the expression on her oldest cousin’s face when he figured out the meaning of her comment.
“We’ll see how many other hard boiled eggs we have tomorrow too, young lady,” Ben frowned at her and squeezed her hand a little tighter. “In the meantime, let me make it perfectly clear that there’s only one rooster that rules the roost here at the Ponderosa and …”
A string of loud angry curses in Chinese and a clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen interrupted Ben before he could finish. All present cringed as they quickly translated the cook’s less than pleasant statements into English. No translation was really necessary, however, given the tone and volume of those words.
“I forgot ta mention I might have made a mess lookin’ for the lard,” Joe whispered in his father’s ear while Hop Sing continued to swear and bang kitchen equipment.
“…that rooster is Hop Sing,” Josey giggled as they all braced themselves
for the rooster’s appearance and the rest of their proverbial ‘chickens
coming home to roost.’
THE END
____________________________________________
*Popcorn kernels will expand up to thirty or forty times their original
sizes when popped.
**A 25 pound bag of unpopped popcorn can make between 900 to 1200 cups of
popped popcorn.
***Popcorn can shoot three feet straight up in the air when popped.
****Chickens are not easily housebroken.
______________________________________________________________
Many thanks to David Dortort for his creation of Bonanza in general and
the Cartwrights, Hop Sing and the Ponderosa in particular. The author does
not claim ownership of any of the aforementioned characters, just the story.
Josephine Marie Cartwright © December, 2004 is a copyrighted character
belonging to the author. © July 13, 2006, ALL INTERNATIONAL RIGHTS
ARE RESERVED.