Boots, Saddle and Gloves

By Sadie Spinner

October 2007

Little Joe Cartwright knew he was in trouble. He was late getting home from school. It had not been his fault, well not really, as he rationalized it. Tomorrow was his big brother Hoss’ birthday as usual he had no money that was until this afternoon.

Earlier this morning at breakfast typically he was only half listening to the conversation between his Pa and older brothers as they went over the day’s activity, he had no need to, he knew what his job was, go to school. Unaware he snorted quite loudly at some long winded complicated set of calculations by his older brother to further enhance one of those engineering projects he was forever trying to get Pa to agree to; which he never did.

“That will be enough out of you, young man, finish up and get going you will no doubt be late again! And, just you remember, straight home! In case you have forgotten about Monday.”
The man’s brows converged sternly over his deep brown eyes. Ben held his youngest there for another minute with his stare.

“Yes, sir.” Joe ducked his head, he could feel a smug smirk, albeit non-existent from Adam his eldest brother, he was sorely tempted to bury the tip of his boot into the soft part of Adam’s shin, but instead he swallowed the last of his milk.

“Can I please be excused?”

“Yes, and remember or . . . ”

Joe grabbed his lunch pail and books from the credenza and left the house. On his ride to school he once again regretfully admitted, Adam and Pa were always able to get Hoss such great birthday presents. Someday, he vowed he would too. It’s just that he seemed to always loose his allowance one way or another, either paying for things that accidentally get broke when he is near, or some little contest his father would not approve of ends up costing him in more ways than one. No matter how you look at it Little Joe Cartwright had a hard time keeping money.

Last week he had been with his father when he went to Jock Torry’s Leather shop. Just the smell of all the fine leather works that hung from the walls, or lay tangled together in every nook and cranny of the cluttered store gave Little Joe cause to feel bad about his financial state. Neat’s-foot oil, saddle soap, even the smell of newly tanned hides, caused him to grin as he wandered around fingering this and rubbing his hand wishfully over that.

A familiar far away look developed in his eye when he came to the wall holding all the finely tooled leather holsters and gun belts, it would be a long time before he felt the weight and power held in such a rig.

Mr. Torry was one of the best saddle makers and leather workers in the entire territory. The chance that he had anything he, Little Joe could afford was simply out of the question. As he stood there coveting any and all of the rigs he was brought back to reality.

“A-hem!” He dragged his eyes away and saw the beautiful custom made, hand stitched, finely tooled, saddle his father had on hold for Hoss. Hoss was a very big young man and his father had wanted him to have one that fit him perfectly, he needed it as he was now spending so much time working every day on the ranch.

Hoss being Hoss never complained, although he really wanted a new saddle. Hoss was just the kind of boy who was pleased with everything anyone gave him, nothing was too small or un-welcomed, and a bag of candy from one person, could easily please him, as much as a fine new shirt from some other, each gift given was not judged against another. As they left the shop Ben answered his youngest son’s unspoken question point blank, no room for discussion.

“The answer Joseph is an emphatic and absolute NO!” Both stopped to looked at each other, the stern deep brown eyes narrowed the darker brows furrowed deeply, further reinforcing his statement. “Understood?”

A soft wishful sigh escaped Joe, “Yes sir.”

“Good, now your brother’s birthday is only one week away, have you given it any thought as to what you will get him?” Adam had ordered Hoss a beautiful pair of new top of the line boots. Adam was very cleaver. Several months ago he had secretly placed small thin sheets of paper inside Hoss’ boots and after a day or two he retrieved them. The paper had absorbed the sweat and grime from Hoss’ feet and formed perfect imprints, which Adam promptly sent off to a special boot maker in San Francisco.

Joe’s lack of funds was legendary in the Cartwright household, and Ben couldn’t help wonder how long Joe was going to be able to hold off asking for help.

 “Dunn no, Pa, ain’t got a clue yet, but . . .”

“Haven’t got a clue.”

“No, sir, I don’t.” Joe played with the dust on the boards out side the shop with the toe of his boot.

Shutting his eyes briefly, shaking his head knowingly Ben strode off to continue his errands. With one last woeful glance back into the dark and cluttered store Joe shoved his hands in his back pocket and followed his father determine not to fall into his usual pattern. Just once he vowed, I want to show them I too can find a special gift to my brother, one worthy of a man such as Hoss.

Yesterday Joe was hard pressed to find a single thing he could afford.  It had begun to look like today wasn’t going to be much better.

A new kid had just started school he was from the Midwest he was about Joe’s age, and in the same grade. His name was Owen Van Brock, for whatever reason, Joe paid him little attention at first, until today when he started talking real big on how back home he was the best at Mumbly Peg. It was the fact he had such a whiney voice that grated on Joe. Grinning so know it- all, his freckles combined with his wiry red-brown hair that stuck out under his hat only served to reinforce Joe’s building dislike. He was always showing off his champion knife bragging how he won it in the county competition. Oh, it was a beauty for sure, he had to admit that, Stag-horn inlay, shiny steel blade, even had his initials in it. Mumbly Peg was just not something Joe played very much, his big brother Adam had taught him a while ago when he asked. Just in case Joe decided to learn on his own, Adam had given him a through lesson, along with a list a mile long on the proper care and safety of pocketknife handling. Joe had suffered through the lecture, while inwardly grimacing at the fate he would meet if he were found using it in an unsafe foolish manner, silently fuming. “Sheesh, what’d he think? I’m an idiot? I been using a knife since I was a kid!”

True, he had been using his pocketknife for a few years. He just never gave a thought to this game one way or the other there were so many other things to do. Joe contended he was too old for marbles anymore, recess at school now took the form of other challenges such as bragging rights to fishing and hunting stories, tests of strength, or increasingly more often than not the pursuit of one or more tantalizing young ladies.

Joe was immensely popular with most of the students, he was bright, eager and full of mischief, dollars to doughnuts if there was some foolery under foot, Joe Cartwright was dead to rights in the middle.

Today as Little Joe let his eyes wander aimlessly around the schoolyard only half interested in the goings on of the students of various ages until they settled on the new girl, he felt a tickle inside him, for she was obviously staring at him. Perfect white teeth, big, oh so big inviting eyes, and the color of the auburn copper in the braids, neatly braided with fluffy soft blue ribbon, shone in the noon sun. Joe was mesmerized for the moment, his heart jumped, he swallowed, she was heading over to him, her blue check gingham made swishing noises that thundered in his ears.

“Hello, she chirped, offering him her pale soft hand my name is Jane.” Unlike her brother, she had very few freckles, just a spattering over her nose. Joe thought they looked more like golden paint spots, rather than freckles.

“H-h-hello.” Cursing to himself for stuttering Joe stood up straight, then rubbed his sweaty palms down the side of his pants. She continued to hold out her hand and actually flip the air somewhat impatiently, as if demanding he take it.

“W-e-ll, well, don’t tell me the famous Little Joe Cartwright is awe struck by little ole’ me?” She cooed, batting long smooth lashes her amber doe eyes pools of gold, all the while that dainty, white hand, fluttering in his face in the most maddening way.

“Who? . .  . Whaattt!” Joe’s voice jumped up so high his words came out as a loud squeak.
In a flash Little Joe recovered, his natural ability for charm bubbled up to the surface. Grabbing the hand he pulled her right up next to his face, his own huge hazel green eyes glittered, his perfect smile lit up his face. Peeking from under his hat that sat slightly back, deep chestnut curls glistened just as invitingly as her auburn braids.

“Me? Why ma’am? . . . I ain’t fraid’ of nothin’ and besides, I never met a girl I can’t handle.”

With a mischievous unmistakably wicked wink, amplifying the emerald sparks making his eyes even brighter he gave her his most daringly bold grin, his brows rising and falling, causing his curls to bounce.

Suddenly she felt very warm her face grew pink, her heart raced. “Sir, I must demand you let go of me, right this instant!”

“Oh, but of course, my lady.” Joe stepped back and bowing with the most gracious and gallant sweep hat in hand he bid her “Good day.”

Replacing his hat in a jaunty rakish and superior way, running his fingers briefly along the brim Joe strolled arrogantly in the other direction towards a small gathering of students not far away.

The cheers and hoots that erupted from his male counterparts following his performance left him grinning like a well-fed mouser. The bold young lady, now rather shamefaced and vowing retaliation stalked off.

On the way back into the school house 10 minutes later Joe was elbowed to the side of the porch by her brother. “You watch your step with my sister, yahoo, she’s a lady . . . ya got that!”

He had grabbed Joe by the shirtfront. Now, nothing made Joe Cartwright madder than to be drawn up by the shirtfront. Before Owen knew what had happened he was flat out on the porch and Joe simply stepped over him, all wide eyed innocence.

“Gee Miss Jones, somebody better look at the porch, maybe a board is loose or sumthin’.”

Abigail Jones was not one to be fooled by youngsters, and especially this crafty fellow.

“Why yes, your are right Joseph, thank your for pointing this out, and the offer, you can do it at the end of the school day today . . . Class, your attention please.” She smiled knowingly at Joe as he slunk into his seat.

The twitter rippling over the room was not lost on Owen, or Joe. Abigail let a thin smile start then slip away.

“Oh, Sh- -t” Joe murmured, he had done it again.

Mitch his best friend leaned in close. “Gotta hand it to ya Joe, ya sure have a knack fer stirin up ole’ Jones”

“Huh? . . . Oh her yeah, but that’s not the problem right at the moment,” he confessed.

“Can I help?” Mitch whispered.

“Mitchell! If you are so interested, perhaps you will be happy to stay and help Joseph?”

Her beady pale blue eyes pinned Mitch as he stood reluctantly to meet her offer.

“Uh, Miss Jones, ma’am, I surely would, but you see, my Pa is out of town with my brothers and Mama need me, but I would be happy to come tomorrow evening!” Mitch grinned he was almost as good as Joe.

“N-no- Mitchell that will not be necessary, sit back down please.”

Mitch knew Miss Jones always led the choir practice on Thursday night.

Abigail fussed at her tight bun; her hand like a wayward butterfly in a spring breeze fluttered down to the glasses hanging around her neck her face had a distinct pink tinge. Fortunately for Mitch and Joe, they were not the only members of the school who had picked up on the fact the schoolteacher was after Adam Cartwright. Adam just might be coming to town tomorrow as the local Cattleman’s Association meeting also fell on Thursday he often accompanied his father.

Tapping her desk with her ruler, taking charge once more the day proceeded as usual.

While the teacher was immersed with reading and arithmetic lessons of the first and second graders Joe felt a note pressed into his hand, taking a quick peek to be sure Miss Jones did not suspect, he scanned it.

(Cartwright, we got a score to settle, I’ll wait for you after ya do ya little job . . . hahaha Owen)

It was all Little Joe could do not to get up and pound this kid into the floor. Who the heck did he think he was anyway? The iron clang of “STRAIGHT HOME!” reverberating in his head, should have been enough to defuse his temper, not to mention he still needed to find a way to get money for Hoss’ birthday gift. Nonetheless, Little Joe chanced a look in the direction of his adversary “Your on,” he mouthed. Even as he did so the knowledge he would surely regret this tingled the back of his mind pride however demanded he stand up to him.

Little Joe waited until all the pupils had left the school building. The sympathetic clap on the shoulder from the majority of the boys and flirting smiles and girlish giggles from the young ladies did little to remove the worry in his mind. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the figure lurking near the big elm tree. Feigning deep concentration Little Joe walked around and around and up and down the porch. Despite bouncing here and stomping there, to no avail, he could find not one single board that would give credence to his earlier disclaimer. Thus dismally he headed into the empty building, picking his hat from the peg and holding it repentantly between his hands he approached his teacher.

“Ummm,” Joe ran his left hand nervously through his curls, hunching his shoulders to try to diminish the tension rapidly building. “M–mmiss Jones, ma’am, I-I -gotta–s-say, I, um.”

Failing to find the words, he reached back with his hat and pointed to the perfectly good porch. Swallowing loudly, he continued to stammer. “C-can’t s-se-emm to find that, um loose b-board, I–I -c-cuda’ swore!”

 Her shrill voice cut him off instantly.

“Why you had better not . . . Swearing indeed! Herumh! I-I’ll take a switch to you young man, the very idea, swearing in front of a lady! What would your father think of that? Why your brother . . . Adam, Why he would be mortified by your cannibalizing our grammar or usage of profanity, gentleman that he is.”  Abigail straightened up indignant at the affront.  

“Y-yess Ma’am, I didn’t mean that exactly, I just, w-well there ain’t”

“Is not” She stood there arrow straight, arms folded like iron bars.

“Uh, that’s what I meant ma’am, not a loose board in the whole dang! Oops, please Miss Jones,” his big hazel eyes suddenly brimmed with liquid, and true as daylight, proof positive even Abigail Jones was unable to resist those huge teary orbs.

“Oh, alright, for heaven sakes Joseph, do you think me that callous? Hurry on home now, and next time, I shan’t be so reasonable.” But it was an idle threat.

Nodding furiously Joe grabbed his books from his desk, slapping his hat back on darted to the door, returning to grab her hand planting an overly exaggerated kiss on the top. It so flustered her she missed the grimace that immediately followed, or the way his eyes rolled or his head shook. Joe bolted down the steps and sprinted to the stable where his paint was waiting for him. She knew it was late she was the only one still there. To show her displeasure with her master, she whinnied shaking her head, and snorting she pawed at the ground. “ Sorry girl, old Jonesy’ almost had my hide, I . . .”

“You weren’t trying to sneak out on me were you?”

Little Joe turned slowly to face Owen. “Look, Oh-wen, I ain’t trying anything, and I most certainly ain’t afraid of you! Or your sister! Just so happens I have something that at the moment is far more important then flattening you, so if you will excuse me, I gotta’ get going. You will just have to wait for your little display of gallantry, sorry to disappoint you, but don’t worry I fully intend to honor our agreement just not today.” Turning back Joe continued to tighten the cinch on his saddle.

“Are you suggesting a fist fight? .  .  . What ever gave you that idea? That’s for showoffs and little kids, with a chip on their shoulder, I mean a test of skill a contest that takes control and concentration, oh yeah, and brains, any one can start a punching match.” He folded his arms across his chest and pushed back his hat, clearly showing his freckled face and pea green eyes.

Clenching his fists Joe swung around.

“Such as?” he asked suspiciously, he really did not have time for this, he was already forty-five minutes late.

Owen tossed his knife daringly from hand to hand, “Ooh, I dunno, Mumbly Peg . . . here and now, winner gets the other’s knife, if you got one. Loser has to pull the peg out with his teeth.
And when you apologize to my sister, you better mean it!  Whatch` say cowboy, Huh?”

Before Joe knew it “You’re on . . . (He heard himself reply, his reckless headstrong nature taking front row once again) so when you apologize, you better mean it!”

It took a few minutes to find a clear spot off to the side of the schoolyard, and secure what could be used as a peg and rock to pound it in. Then the square was drawn with a stick, the one coming closest to the peg in three sets of three out of five throws would be the winner.

“Ok, but we have to have a witness, in case someone cheats.” Joe contended stiffening up to look his opponent right in the eye. He was a dead man already by this time, what would another hour more or less matter?   

“Good thinkin’ tuff guy.” Owen scanned the area no one was anywhere around. At that moment Miss Jones came out, locking the door she proceeded to head for her home.

“Hay, what about the teacher? She seems to know you pretty well?” Owen eyed Little Joe, noting the quick pallor then flush that rose up his neck to his cheeks.

“Sure, go ahead ask her, but you better be prepared to face the entire school board on charges of gamblin on the school grounds. Oh, and I don’t’ mind telling you, Mr. Dowling the head of the board is mighty fond of making an example of students braking rules at the start of classes, in front of the whole school.”

Joe did his best to appear cool and confident, the very thought of such a meeting followed by the one back at the Ponderosa made his knees weak, but he kept up his smug look, gazing heavenward and sighing in a blasé’ fashion.

A number of expressions and thoughts passed over Owens’ face as he debated with himself as to the truth of this kids statement. He sure was a cocky kid. Owen had been observing him since he arrive at school, weighing weather he wished to make him a friend or foe.

Although his sister annoyed him to no end with her attitude, flaunting herself, expecting him to step in at the last minute, Owen once again had felt duty bound to jump to her defense.

Still standing there, arms folded over his chest, ostensibly daring Owen, Joe determined to keep the fact he was trembling covered.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess your right, so what’s it gonna be?”

Joe wrinkled his brow, then, an idea came to him “ We shake on it, then take an oath that we won’t cheat”

“What’s to keep one of us . . . Owen made no attempt to hide, which he referred to. From going back on his word?”

“I don’t know about your Pa, but my Pa has never gone back on his word, to anyone ever!”
I’m not about to shame My Pa the most honest, upstanding, true to his word man, for the likes of you!” Hands defiantly on his hips Joe sprouted off, all the while thinking of how this wonderful praise worthy man was going to react when he arrived home.

“You saying my Pa ain’t as good as yours?”

“No.” Joe shrugged

They stood there eyeing each other like young wolves over a first kill. “Okay, deal.” Owen spit on his hand and offered it to Joe. “Done!” They agreed simultaneously.

It was an amazingly tight and very heated competition, one worthy of a large and avid audience.
However when it was all said and done and the dust settled, to the utter surprise of both competitors Little Joe Cartwright came out the winner.

“I- I -g-guess-gulp! . . .  Y-you win Cartwright.” Quite overwhelmed Owen placed his coveted prize in the equally stunned Joe’s hands. Slowly lowering his eyes to look at the knife, Joe turned it over, its balance, the deep rich feel of the ridges in the stag horn along his palm, made his hand feel very warm but his heart cold. It was painfully clear this talent and knife meant a great deal more to Owen Van Brock then he was willing to let on. Joe raised his eyes to meet his defeated competitor, who quickly looked away.

“Hey, I-I’m s-sorry Owen, I never thought in a million years I would  . . . ”

The boy brushed away Joe’s attempt, “Nah, (sniff) -y-you won it fair and square.” He began to trot off towards town. His own eyes now filling with tears Joe raced after the fleeing figure. “Y-you forgot the last part,” Joe gasped breathless.

“What?” Owen demanded not willing to turn around, his fists clenched at his side.

“Th-the part about the peg- I- uh, challenge you to pull it out with your teeth, b-by the time I count to, say, twenty. If ya do, the deal is, um, how would my big brother Adam, put it? Oh yeah. Null and void, I think.” he added.

“Why?” Again Owen was puzzled by the quicksilver mood swings and character of this Little Joe Cartwright kid. Somehow despite his best effort he was slowly beginning to like and actually admire, the kid’s guts.

“Uh, lets just say, under certain circumstances, it would not bode well for me right now to show up with such a prize in my possession, I spect’ its fame has already spread. Heck! What do I need a knife with the initials OV carved in the side, mine are JC.” He gave Owen one of his famous grins and let loose with his infectious giggle. When they both had regained their composure, Owen wiped his eyes, “Yer’r alright Cartwright.” He patted Joe on the shoulder, and got a weak smile in return.  “I’m alright for the moment, but in just a few hours I doubt that will be the case.” Joe mused to himself.

Joe took Owens’ hand and placed the knife firmly back into his palm.” By the way, my friends call me Joe.”

Owen got a thoughtful look on his face. “Hey, how bout’ instead, I pay you to teach me just how you did what you did, ya know that wrist flip thing, no one is around, and that way we both save face.” Grinning he added “Joe.”

Joe had an odd feeling about this latest turn, however being the optimist he was he agreed. This way he might have a few pleasant moments to relive before his father got a hold of him.

Thirty minutes later, the bell over the door at Cass’ store jingled.

“Mr. Cass, sir.”

“Oh, hello Little Joe.” The store Owner glanced up from doing the tally, not liking his routine disturbed, this disturbance in particular.  “ Kind of late ain’t ya boy? Yer brothers or Pa with ya?”

It burned Joe’s pride when he was forever being asked if his guards were with him.

“No, sir,” he stuck out his chin, “ I’m alone.”

Frowning slightly at the boy standing in front of his counter, he grunted. “ I see, well, what can I do for you?”

“I don’t got a lot of time see, and I need a gift for Hoss’ birthday, it’s tomorrow’ see, an.”

“Tomorrow Huh?”

Joe pressed his lips, fighting his rising temper, it would not be a good idea to be rude to Mr. Cass in the best of times and this was not the best of times.

“I’- I been kinda’ busy, an all.”

“I understand.”(He didn’t but let it go impatient to get back to his figures.)

“We-ell, can you show me some, ummm,” Joe felt himself start to sweat, his brain froze, he had no clue as to what to get and the minutes were ticking down to his demise.

It was hopeless, his eyes raced around the store, then, the sun streaming in the window as it angled down the sky fell on a beautiful pair of huge work gloves. Constructed of thick cowhide, the palms of which had been stitched with extra leather to insure a firm and comfortable fit, also making for a stronger grip. His entire face lit up, that was it! The perfect gift! They were tucked in the corner of the window display.

Why just last week he had been happily chatting as he watched Hoss work the forge in preparation to reshape a horseshoe. Hoss left his beloved work gloves a little to close to the heat after removing them and taking hold of his littler brother, begging him to slow down, be quiet so he could think. The smell of scorching leather brought them both to attention. The gloves almost but not totally ruined, the degree of protection they had been able to afford was diminished enough to relegate them to far more menial chores. Hoss promised not to tell Pa, half for Joe and half for himself not wishing to incur one of their Pa’s famous lectures on paying attention to details, watching what you were doing, with great emphasis on that need being ever greater near the forge.

Joe upended the entire display of ladies shoes as he scrambled towards the window in his excitement.

“There!” he yelled so loud Mr. Cass jumped, in danger of loosing his balance nearly falling over.

Almost tumbling right into the display window snatching the gloves Joe managed to effectively undo the entire window set up. Dancing around he hugged them to his chest, chanting “Oh, y-eah, oh yeah, hot diggity, I did it!”

It took what seemed forever for Mr. Cass to catch the whirling accident looking for a new place to happen.

“Hold still boy, before your wreck my entire store, with your fool actions!” The stern voice and sudden reality halted Joe’s dance, blushing furiously he hung his head.

“I-I’m s-soory, its, its jest that th-his is sooo perfect an I never dreamed I would find something so great.”

Then, snap! Just like that, the joy was gone. What if he did not have enough? For sure these gloves were very expensive, and he had all of one dollar and seventy-five cents to his name. Included in this meager sum only because the new kid insisted he take the dollar in payment for his teaching. A tidbit sure to come out in the wash, and Adam was not going to like it much.

Taking a deep breath he got himself ready to face the forthcoming bad news. With a quivering voice that was now almost to soft to hear, he pleaded “This is all I can afford, I don’t suppose you would consider my paying off the difference in installments, would you sir?” Joe dug deep in his pocket retrieving his coins showing the store Owner all he had.

Having know the Cartwright family since before this young scallywag was born Will Cass was well aware that the boy would make good the offer, he was not the only one who knew how Ben Cartwright dealt with the issues of integrity and honesty. It was the quiver, it was always that quiver. This time he had the help of his daughter Sally, she was very fond of the boy, not to mention very attracted to his darkly handsome oldest brother.

One look and Cass knew he was done.

“Why Hello Little Joe, what have you got there?” Sally asked, the ruckus in the store having brought her from the back of the storeroom trying not to be obvious as her eyes skimmed over the rest of the store. Joe tentatively held out the gloves.

“I-I- f-found these in the window and my, my brother Hoss needs a new pair real bad, and it-it’s his birthday, an’ an’... all I got is this much money, Miss Sally.” The big doe eyes blinked.

Ignoring the wreckage in the window display, Sally brightly announced.

“Why Father, how wonderful, you have been hoping someone would purchase them. After all, just look at the size of them. Hasn’t it been almost a month ago you put them out?” She smiled warmly at the young man, then, one brow rose in a subtle hint to her father.

“Why, uh, uhmm, yes, as a matter of fact your right my dear, let me see Joseph?”

Will Cass took the gloves and discreetly removed the price, then slid the coins around Joe had placed on the counter

“By golly, this must be your lucky day!”

Little Joe cringed, “Not by a long shot it ain’t” he whispered.

“Say, since they are about a month old, n’ kinda dusty, don’t know what I was thinking getting in a pair of gloves this big, how bout’ I let you have them at a discount price, say one dollar and seventy cents. That will leave you just enough for a sack of sweets, for the ride home, or you can offer them to your family.” Leaning close to the boy he offered in a warm fatherly voice, “Sort of a peace offering, if you like.”

With that he collected the change and rang up the gift. “Sally dear, why don’t you get young Joe some of those lemon drops, peppermints, a few licorice whips oh and some molasses chews, enough to round out his purchase.” Mr. Cass winked at the very grateful lad.

Finally free, a sweet peppermint candy tucked in his cheek Little Joe tempted fate one more time today. Heart singing, as he cleared the city limits he urged Cochise into a death defying flat out run for as long as he dared. The wind, the speed, the thrill, the power under his command helped Little Joe unwind as it always did.

Bringing his horse to a slow walk, they both shuttered with the release it had brought, winded the paint mare snorted and shook her mane jingling her bridle.
.
“Yeah, me to Cooch! It sure felt good.” Savoring the last hints of peppermint clinging to his teeth, Joe sat up straight. Patting her withers with great pride and love he turned to make sure his prize was still in his saddlebags. “Boy is Hoss gonna be flat out shocked, this is about the best present I think I ever got. Did it all by myself . . . yup . . . gonna tell him so too, no need to be a charity case, and let Pa or ol’ Adam put my name on sumthin,’ then proceed to take it out of me piece, by piece.” That glorious giggle filled the air “Might just keep all the sweets for my self too…Nah! I’d never do that to Hoss, Adam maybe…Nah! Not even ole’ Adam if it wuz his birthday.” The sound would have continued too if he hadn’t noticed that it the sun had sunken further down the sky getting close to dark, sure to be by the time he reached home.

“Oh, boy!”

If it were possible to ride into a yard with out making so much as a whisper, Little Joe would have at that moment sold all his worldly goods, to the person able to make that happen. Ergo, the sound of a horse slowly entering the yard brought with it the sound and light created by the front door banging open.

“Jooseph?”

“Yeah Pa, it’s me.” He called out hoping to sound like there was nothing out of place but respectful of his late arrival.

“Does the word STRAIGHT! Mean anything to you young man?” The words were spoken in a very low voice that was amazingly right behind him, a very bad place, for he had his hands full with his saddle bags, books and lunch pail.

“Gulp! s-s-sure it doses Pa.” He bowed his head.

“Look at me boy!”

Slowly ever so slowly Joe obeyed squirming around as he was wedged tightly between his father’s big frame and the side of his horse, good thing it was getting dark or Pa would see the tell tale signs of dried sweat on her flank and withers.

“Ye-es sir.” He responded very contritely.

“If this is your idea of straight home,” The volume shot up on the last two words. Cochise took a sudden side step to distance herself, Joe who had his back against her for support lost his balance, throwing every thing up in the air as he waved his arms in an attempt to avoid falling under the dancing hooves.

“Joe!” Ben shouted as he grabbed for the boy just in the nick of time, he was clearly shaken. Ben had Joe by the shoulders, and quickly hugged the boy to his chest. “I’m Sooo sorry son, I never expected her to spook like that, thank God you are alright!”

Joe Cartwright was about as slick as they come when an opportunity to shift directions from his own misdeeds popped up, grinned into his father’s warm sheltering chest.

“Awww Pa, it’s ok, ya, didn’t mean nothing,’ it’s just, well sometimes you don’t know the power of your own voice.” 

Ben pulled his son from his chest and eyed him sharply, his dark brow raised over his darker eyes, there was mischief a foot here, he could feel it but just not get a good grip. Quietly, this time he began. “Young man I would not be so flippant, or sassy if I were in your shoes.”

Joe looked down at his feet a posture all three of Ben’s boys adopted, at a time like this.

“Yes, s-ir, sorry sir.” He mumbled.

“Don’t mumble at me!”

Both Joe and his horse jumped this time. Ben, fraught with worry over the fact his son had been over two hours late from school, was now back to fury at his son being over two hours late from school.

“Do you realize how worried I have been? No, I am sure you do not.” Ben launched into his lecture. Joe stood in front of his father, fidgeting with his horses’ reins; his lunch pail lay open, the contents spilling out in all directions.

“Ummm, I’m sorry Pa.”

“Joseph Francis Cartwright you are ALWAYS sorry. . .  After the fact!”

Ben now had his hands on his hips, his nostrils flared, swallowing he hung onto his waning patience.

“Dare I ask what kept you?”. . . “No, on second thought, in my present state of mind, it is better for both our health, I don’t know . . . But hear me boy! . . . Both your brothers are out handling urgent matters and need me to be in two places at the same time. And here I stand waiting for you! . . . ” Now he was towering over the boy shaking his finger so close Joe felt the rush of air as it passed his nose.

“Gulp, Pa, gee, I am sorry, honest.” Fear suddenly sprang into his eyes, fear not for himself but for what might be wrong with either of his brothers. Tears glittering, he chewed on his lip.

 “Can I go? Please Pa, if Adam an Hoss need help I can help, I can Pa, pleeease!”

Although dusk had stolen most of the daylight Ben by instinct more than sight was still able to read the boys face thus his initial fury blew out when he saw Joe’s reaction. His brothers’ problem had been compounded by his absence.

“Yes, you will help.”

Little Joe’s eyes sparkled he wiped them with his sleeve. “Just tell me Pa, what ever you need.” Turning to remount his horse Joe suddenly found himself grabbed by the back of the belt and yanked back to the ground.

“You will help by getting into that barn and doing your brothers chores, then your own, followed by going directly into the house eating your supper and up to your room!”

“Hey, that ain’t what I meant!”

“But it is what I meant boy, I want no argument.”

Little Joe, temper blossoming over the possible danger his brothers faced and being relegated to child status of simple everyday chores, stomped his foot.

“Is that what I think it was?”

“You need me!” Joe shouted,  “You know you do. Why are you so- so  . . . ”

“Unreasonable?”

Brow raised Ben held Joe by the upper arm and pointed to the barn.

Joe opened his mouth then wisely shut it. “Yes, sir, I’m going.”

It was the added incentive his father was famous for, that caused him to jump, as the deep sting spread quickly.

Ben stood for a brief moment in the now almost non-existing light to watch the slim figure disappear into the dark barn. “Just like that hard headed oldest son of mine.” He muttered. “Just has to have the last word, even if it is silent and not meant for me to hear or see.” With that he picked up the books, saddle bags and pail, noting the remains, signifying Joseph had other things to occupy his lunch break, that most assuredly needed checking into.

Walking back into the house Ben called. “Hop Sing, Joseph is home now, I am going to get Adam then go see about Hoss and that overturned wagon, hopefully Adam will have solved his problem by then as Hoss is going to need both of us I fear. Would you mind seeing that the boy dose as he has been instructed. Please make sure he eats, as I suspect from the contents of his lunch pail he had better things to do, oh, and don’t let him get around you.”

“You no worry, Hop Sing know how to handle number three son.” The little man shook his head frowning fiercely, at such a ridiculous statement.

“Yeah,” Ben sighed resignedly. “All the same, please see he gets his homework done and in bed at a decent hour. Oh, I know he will be chomping at the bit to be up when we get back, and know all about what happened. I am afraid however it will be very late, in spite of our combined efforts, so just do your usual outstanding job.” He smiled briefly. “Oh, and Hop Sing, thanks. I know how busy you are already, getting ready for Hoss’ birthday. What ever you manage will be wonderful, just as long as it contains lots of good food, Hoss is still a growing boy, Lord, is he ever!” Chuckling on this last thought Ben gathered his things and supplies including jackets, as the nights were decidedly chilly this time of year, headed out.

One would be hard pressed to state which person was able to claim victory in the war between a very determined, persuasive, cunning, not above using unfair advantages, Little Joe, versus a very, determine, wily, oh so wise, tricky and resourceful Hop Sing.

A truce was called, after suffering through a tirade on wasted food, Joe hungrily gobbled his dinner in between hopping up at every single creak or sound in hopes of finding his returning brothers, knowing full well his Pa’s reaction to his devotion and fear for them just might mellow or cancel any annoyance with his earlier behavior.

After the third time he found nothing in the yard, Hop Sing snatched him by the ear and led the howling protestor back to the table stationing himself immediately at Joe’s left.

“No more jump up!  Food get cold, make belly ache, father no need bad boy, who no eat good food, have enough worry. Hop Sing have no time for bad boy, have too much to do for Mr. Hoss birthday.” Tapping Joe on the top of his head, he finished his admonishment, “You like I tell father you no listen what I say? Maybe so I tell Mr. Ben you all a time yell at Hop Sing!” Glaring at the boy with his bright black eyes, frowning ferociously his arms folded over his chest he waited for Joe’s response.

The fork clattered onto the plate, it’s echo reverberating in the room.

Joe lifted his face the color was a greenish white he swallowed a great gulp of air.
“Y-yy ou, w-w-won’t dd-dooo that w–will you?” His voice reached an amazing pitch, eyes pleading in desperation.

For another minute Hop Sing stood his ground. Snorting he turned and shaking his head he rounded the corner into his kitchen, a sly smile wrinkled his face, he nodded in satisfaction.

The only sound now coming from the dining room was the scrape and clink of utensils as a certain young boy dutifully obeyed the command.

Round one went to Hop Sing, but as these wars always went, Joe was not yet ready to concede defeat. After meekly entering the kitchen with his clean plate, looking ever so sorry, eyes down, he murmured his apology. Hop Sing hardly had a chance to digest this when Joe sprang into action. Looking cautiously and mysteriously around as if expecting some one to jump out of the shadows he grabbed the man’s arm, startling the cook. “Hop Sing!”

“Uh, sorry, but   . . . Can you keep a secret?”

Now if ever there was a silly question this must be at the top of the list, about the only thing for miles around that held more than the secrets Hop Sing had been party to over the years, be they from boy, or man, and for a short wonderful time a very special lady. Was the amount of silver taken from the world renowned, Comstock Lode.

Hop Sing squinted at this boy whom he dearly loved, he watched the dancing hazel eyes, the glee they held, the promise of any number of things, and the smile, the un-doing of all the family. The only thing that got to the heart faster were the sad puppy dog eyes, Joe now masterfully used both.

“I, I got the best birthday present I ever got for Hoss.” He whispered as if Hoss might hear. Hop
Sing nodded pleased to see how happy Joe was.

“I need ya to help me, okay?”

“Hop Sing always ready top help Little Joe, what you need?”

Joe scooted back into the great room and over to the credenza grabbing his saddlebags, he rushed back into the kitchen. “Here, Hop Sing . . . Look! Ain’t they the best work gloves ya ever seen?”

Taking the gloves Hop Sing turned them over and inspected them carefully, finally nodding in agreement, “Yes, velly fine ... How you manage to get such fine gloves?” He narrowed his eyes fearing he was being drawn once again into a conspiracy he would regret.

“Awwww Geeewizz! . . .  Not you too Hop Sing? Can’t a guy ever just once, do something on his own with out the entire rest of his family immediately thinking the worst of him!” Eyes turning a deep green liquid, he snatched the gloves back.

“I thought I could at least count on you . . . never mind.” Head hanging voice dripping with disappointment he folded the gloves between his hands and started out of the kitchen.

Still not sure he was being had, Hop Sing never the less backed down.

“Hop Sing sorry Little Joe, should not question such a fine gift for honorable big brother.” Placing a loving pat on the slumped shoulder in consolation he smiled.

“Sniff, ya mean it? Ya believe me?”

“Should I not?”

“Noooo.noo, honest.”

Giving the boy one more close scrutiny, one could never be quite sure when Joe’s answer held the word honest. He took the gloves back. “Okay what you need, it getting late, and father say you do homework first, then go to bed...no! . . . No try wiggle out of orders.”

“All right, herumph! When will they ever realize I ain’t no kid!’”

“Maybe so you be, Mr. Adam’s age, maybe not?”

Joe swung his head around to see the cooks face, he stared wide-eyed “You are joking right?”

Hop Sing flipped the gloves on the palm of his right hand. He remained silent and stared back.

Round two was a stalemate. “Please Hop Sing, I’ll go honest just let me tell you what I want okay?”

He was so very sincere. This plea was real, right from his heart. Joe had a heart of gold. No one would ever deny that. It only took a few moments for him to explain what he hoped to have the man do. “So, can you, I mean with out anyone knowing?”

“You no trust Hop Sing? You shoo, do homework, Hop Sing bring up when done.  . . . go now!” Joe’s laughter filled the house he bounced up the stairs with his books. Right now he was supremely happy and oh so very proud of himself.

There was no round three. Hop Sing, had done as he had promised Joe did as he had, with just a tad of hedging. Joe ate the cookies and drank the milk Hop Sing had taken him then got ready lowering the wick in his lamp climbed into bed. His head filled with the excitement of seeing Hoss and his father and smug ol’ Adams reaction to his gift.

The beautiful leather gloves lay on the small table by his bed, his brother’s initials expertly and distinctively stitched into the cuff. He began to doze off almost forgetting it was Hoss who the job fell to of getting him up in the morning. Joe shot out of bed and hid his surprise in his top draw. Climbing back and snuggling down Joe vowed to be up early on his own so he could find a way to wrap the gloves without anyone seeing them.

So pleased with himself he forgot all about waiting up for his family and was blissfully dead to the world when they staggered in. Tired, dirty and a little worse for ware all three hardly had enough energy to hang up hats, coats still on never even bothering to take off their guns they moved further into the room. It had been a harrowing night.

“Well, I dunno bout` you fellas’ but I’m plum tuckered out.” A weary, dirt smeared, young Hoss sighed as he prepared to mount the stairs to his room. Looking all the way up he leaned heavily on the banister post tugging off his hat, right arm falling to his side resting his left on top of the post he lowered his head to his arm.

“You aren’t the only one son, but can you hang on for just one more minute?”

“Perhaps, but not much longer Pa, er’ I ‘m jes’ gonna go to sleep right here on this spot.”

“Oh, please no, not that!”

Hoss slowly and deliberately raised his head to glare at his older brother who having shed his coat and gun belt stood grinning at him from his warm spot near the fireplace.

“And why not? Older brother.”

“Because, it’s past midnight and it’s your birthday. And, little brother! I don’t think I have the strength to climb over you . . . or, to carry you up to bed anymore. At least not tonight.”  Adams warm, hazel brown eyes shown, the firelight played off the grin on his face causing his dimples to make him look like a little boy himself.

“Happy Birthday Hoss.” Adam softly offered and toasted Hoss with the sherry his father had handed him then walking over to his middle son offering him a glass, echoing his oldest son’s sentiments equally, placing his arm around the broad shoulders he added a heartfelt warm hug.

“Hey yeah, it is my birthday, dawgonnit!” Eyes shining merrily, he chuckled his hearty chuckle.

 “Thanks Adam, Pa.”

“Your welcome.” All three sipped the sherry, finally able to relax enough to savor a peaceful tender moment.

Draining his glass, picking up his discarded items Adam placed the glass down on the table. Stepping past his bigger younger brother, Adam clapped him warmly on the back. “As I said, I have no intentions of carrying you up to bed.”

“Yer more en’ likely right there older brother. Why at your age, I’m a might s’prised you ain’t askin’ me to help you!” Again Hoss’ warm hearty voice spilled around the room.

Stopping on the landing to look back, Adam gave the younger man one of his scathing glares, turning back shaking his head. “Touché` Hoss.” He disappeared down the hall.

Ben who had remained silent through most of the jesting, now studied his middle son, a wistful slightly sad smile formed on his lips. So much like his gentle mother, the same clear blue, honest trusting eyes, the open readiness to accept people, the pure joy and simple wonder of all that nature and God created. Underneath this seemingly unpolished young man beat a heart full of deep conviction, the ability to see straight into the heart of the matter, a gift often undetected. Over and over it had proved an undeniable value at the most needed times. Suddenly he found himself sniffing, it caught Hoss’ attention instantly.

“Pa, you okay? Somethin’ th matter?” He strode over to where his father stood next to the settee trying to inconspicuously wipe the corners of his eyes.

“Uh, ahem, noo, son,”

“Ya ain’t gettin sick on me now? Are ya? . . . Cause I won’t be able to enjoy that cake I know Hop Sing will be makin’ if ya are Pa!”

“Son, I am fine, and speaking of Hop Sing I wonder how he managed with that younger brother of yours?  . . . ” Ben placed his hand gently on Hoss’ shoulder. “Never mind son, I am way to tired to even start considering what that little scamp might have been up to.”

“Ha-ha-ha- ya right there Pa. Did he ever tell ya why he was so late?”

“No, and frankly I did not really ask, come on Hoss, both of us are much to tired to stand here and speculate on that young man, tomorrow will be time enough.”

“True, so true, night Pa.” Hoss resumed his climb wearily up to his room to give himself a cursory wash and tumble gratefully into his huge, oh so inviting, soft feather bed.

After securing the house and checking the banked fire, Ben gathered his own things, blew out the remaining lamps and headed off after his two sons, it had been a very long night. No matter how exhausted, achy, or disgruntled, Ben might get, never a night went by that he did not stop and check on his boys, tonight was no exception. Plodding down the hall lit solely by a small lamp shedding just enough light to go by, halting only to draw in a deep breath he quietly opened the door to his younger son’s room. The moon was not quite full but the lamp burning low gave him all the light he needed. As true as day turns to night, Joe lay sprawled almost side ways, nightshirt all twisted, covers more on the floor then himself. Stopping to place his things on the chair already piled with the jumbles of discarded clothing, clicking his tongue softly he proceeded, with his almost mechanical ritual, Tug, straighten, gather, cover, smooth, tuck, ending with the gentle brush at the curls, then tender touch of his lips to the forehead. Marveling every night at the sight of the innocence of face in front of him. Retreating quickly gathering his own things he pulled the door shut behind him.

Pausing at the other two doors he smiled indulgently, the huge bed in the room behind this door creaked as its occupant’s grizzly bear sounding yawn heralded the end of his day as he got himself comfortable. Ben smiled to himself just before cracking the door enough to peer in. Moving silently he hesitated once more at the last door, touching the knob just briefly he placed the palm of his other hand flat against the shiny wooden door this one took much more caution, it only took a fleeting moment, satisfied, he

completed his trip. Quickly washing the surface dirt off, Ben slipped out of his clothes setting them on his chair along with his coat and gun belt. Shrugging into his nightshirt, blowing out the lamp on his bedside table, Ben groaned appreciatively. Slowly he let his own weary battered body succumb to the soft relief and warmth of the familiar comforter, a feather mattress and deep down filled pillow. Dawn would come way too soon.

“As I was saying . . . Hoss, How ever on earth did you manage to have that wagon full of rocks fall over backwards? . . . Never mind you never getting so much as a scratch, thank heaven, I might add.” Adam was leaning in, closely studying his brother now that it was daylight he wanted to be sure Hoss’ claim he had escaped unscathed was the truth.

“Big brother, even ifn’ I wuz ta tell ya, which I ain’t, cause I have no intention of hearin’ ya gawff and laugh, the day long . . . ya wouldn’t believe a word of it  . . . so . . . ”

Amongst the clatter of plates being passed and good banter came the opening of the front door

“Who can that be?”

“What? What are you all looking at? ... I didn’t miss any buttons did I?” The youth who had just rounded the corner into the dining room bobbed his curly head to make an affirmative check of all the buttons on the front of his pants.

The wide-eyed trio just grinned in amusement at his perplexed expression.

“Not as far as I can tell . . . However I have given up checking you on that one . . . for about a month, or so.” Adam’s brow rose as he gave the boy the once over and turned back to his breakfast. Joe was furious he stormed over to Adam. Before he got his mouth open, Ben interjected.

“Good Morning Joseph, I trust you had a good nights sleep, as you are up, obviously wide awake and.”

“Mornin` Pa.” came the grudging reply as he slid into his seat, not wanting the subject of yesterday afternoon to arise, at least not until he had his share of breakfast.

“No need to get snippy with me young man.”

“Hey, kid,” he felt an hand on his, he shot a glare out the side of his eye to his oldest brother,

“I really am sorry, I was just teasing, after all you have to admit, the sight of you up and wide awake before one has to drag you up, is a very pleasant surprise.” Adam let go of Joe’s wrist and handed him a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Besides neither you nor I want to spoil Hoss’ appetite, first thing in the morning, on his birthday.”

Joe’s head popped up, he had begun to sulk, but this reminder wiped away his bad mood in the wink of an eye.

“Hoss  . . . I’m SOOO Sorry. Happy Birthday big brother!” Once again the sparkling hazel green eyes, and dazzling smile restored harmony in the family.

“Why, thank ya kindly lil’ brother.” Hoss winked at Adam. “So, Joe, whaddya’ git me, huh? Lemon drops? er’ mmmm, lemme think,” He tapped his chin and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling.

“To be quite honest!”

“Oh, Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

“My, dearest, oldest brother, came the indignant response.  I will not take offense at this time.  However, please refrain from putting your ever present, un-welcome two cents in  . . .  ” Smugly Joe twirled his fork in an upwards spiral at Adam’s nose.

Hoss almost choked, his face turned red, as he gasped at Joe’s audacity

Not to be out done, Adam stood and bowed sweeping his napkin towards his little brother.

“By all means, sir, a thousand pardons, my good man, proceed, with this most intriguing dissertation on your virtue and honesty in regards to our dear brother’s celebrating yet another annual event commemorating the date of his birth!” With that he gallantly took his seat.

There was a moment of silence, as Hoss covered his mouth in attempt to contain his laughter, the tears swelled up then coursed down the front of his face. He continued to laugh so hard his father began to worry he just might pass out from lack of air or choke.

“Hoss, boy! Son, are you all right? Take a deep breath  . . .” Ben was standing next to his big ‘Little’ boy poised to go into action should Hoss not be able to catch his breath all the while glaring at the other two. Adam and Joe sat there grinning at each other satisfied they had provided Hoss with an unexpected bit of acting, as opposed to the sparing and daggers, moments before looming on this morning’s horizon.

It was Hop Sing who brought the situation back to normal, arriving at the table with wooden spoon and pot lid, loud clanging bell like tones invaded the merriment, Ben sat back down, Joe and Adam sat up straight, Adam cleared his throat apologetically, Hoss beamed with pleasure.

Rubbing his hands together, Hoss enthusiastically gathered to himself the entire plate of fried ham, the stack of hot cakes, while well on his way to dismantling the pile of biscuits, his arm was suddenly stopped in mid air, looking up to see the horror struck faces of his family.

Swallowing a great gulp he sheepishly shrugged, “Guess I got kinda carried away, all that laughin’ so early jist natrul’ worked up my hunger.”

Hop Sing gave a sharp nod of his head, his mouth a tight line. “This family clazy.” Muttering he left to fetch the other breakfast treats.

“Hoss, son,” Ben spoke softly. “ I know it’s your birthday and all but, if we three don’t get something to eat we may not last long enough to see what ever it is that Joseph has managed this year.”

“Yes and I for one am very curious.”

Ben gave Adam an exasperated look, “Please not again.”

Adam and Joe alike looked very insulted. Ben paid them no mind. “Will you all just eat, for heaven sakes, this is still a working ranch if I am not mistaken, and you,” he pointed his fork in a manner that could not be misconstrued.  “Young man will get to school on time, and this time make no mistake . . . you had better come STRAIGHT HOME!  If you intend on joining your brother’s birthday dinner, sitting at the table. The alternative being, standing, to eat your dinner alone in the kitchen.” His dark eyes burned, the humor from a few minutes ago, no longer shone in them instead they glowed hot with rekindled anger from yesterday.

Face now scarlet his appetite completely vanished by this, he placed his fork down to slide back his chair. Hoss looked from Ben to his little brother, seconds before he protested his fathers stern words, he felt the gentle nudge from Adam’s toe under the table and caught the slightest tilt of his head. Dark hazel eyes speaking to him in the special, message, they all used when the need arose to communicate silently.

“Yes sir, I understand perfectly, I would never do anything to mess up Hoss’ birthday, or, or anyone else’s either, may I please be excused?”

Gruffly, and still a little grumpy, but now himself somewhat embarrassed by his display, knowing he had truly wounded the boy, he replied. “Yes of course, and Joseph,” Joe turned and looked back, the hurt plain in his eyes.

“Be careful son, and have a good day, we will see you this afternoon, and personally, I really am looking forward to seeing your gift for your brother.” He smiled that wonderful warm smile that always lit his dark brown eyes making them beacons for the love he held for his sons.

Joe smiled back and nodded his head, his eyes teary he hastily gathered his things and made his escape.

The silence following the click of the door as it shut, served to further dampen the jolly, festive promise of today. Ben’s mind sent out a warning to the danger lurking right around the corner in the form of unguarded tidal waves of memories, still his stubborn streak swelled, forcing the tiny tingle back into the dark corner it came from. No today, he would not fall prey to his haunting memories, today was a work day that would be followed by a great dinner brimming with fun, giving, gentle teasing, good food, and most of all, Love. Love, for the wonderful gift given to him years ago, that, seem impossible to have passed so quickly.

Forcing himself to leave the other feelings about those years ago alone, until he was by himself after the boys went to bed, Ben cleared his throat.

“Ahem, as I said you two.” He was greeted with two so different sets of eyes. It always took his breath away, how different, how very different, yet in so many ways so very alike. The stunning clarity of the blue, uncluttered, sharp and open, then there were the deep hazel brown, almost always hooded, stormy often brooding, yet could sparkle with the most devilish golden spark, mischief could be found if you took the time and knew how to see past the protective barrier.

Dark brows rose to meet his momentary laps the soft blond brow wrinkled for an instant and simply waited for the next sentence.

“This is a working ranch!” It thundered out, in a feeble attempt to hide his un-guarded thoughts.

“Pa, you already stated that, honest, we heard you very distinctly, the first time.”

It was a statement Adam and only Adam could be so bold in replying to this way. He delivered his answer eyes focused on the coffee cup he held in front of his face, hiding, half smiling, having caught Pa in a soft moment and half regretting the tongue lashing reproof it surely would bring. When all it brought was a disgruntled half snort half sniff, both young men returned to their meal.

“So, Pa, what is on the agenda?” Adam’s soft voice carried with it over the table, his offer of repentance. Wiping his mouth on his napkin, he placed it down on his plate and quietly awaited his father’s instructions.

“Ahhhh, that was just about the right amount, I think I jist might make it through to noon, that is unless, Pa, here” His meaty hand waved airily in the older mans direction. “Has some real work fer us, then I could possibly need a mid morning snack.” The merry twinkle he unabashedly displayed made the three of them laugh out loud together.

“Hoss, birthday or not, I would not let Hop Sing, hear that, not if you expect to have that dinner which apparently has all of your attention.”

“Who, me Pa?” He feigned innocence.

Adam rose hastily and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Uh, come on Hoss, even you can see we wore this particular subject just a might thin  . . . we had better get to work.” He winked at his father and dragged a confused Hoss out the door.

Ben knew that Adam already had the days schedule well planned out, the going over it was just part of the morning ritual, some days it was of vast importance, others like today it would be merely routine. Settling back to savor his last cup of coffee Ben sighed.

Little Joe arrived in the schoolyard to find himself circled by a ring of schoolmates, some eyed him suspiciously, others, seemed genuinely excited by his presents. Sitting up in his saddle he let his gaze swing over all the faces, it was apparent almost all, except a few of the very young kids, were waiting expressly for him.

“Gee, I had no Idea I was so important!” Pushing his hat back, grinning his devilish grin Joe leaned in to rest his arm on the saddle horn. “But then again, I am an amazing specimen, a truly remarkable individual if I may say so myself.” There were times when modesty and humility flew right out the window. Joe’s self-assurance reigned supreme.

“Ya know, Cartwright, someday, yer gonna get that high fallutin attitude knocked all the way down to the ground with the rest of us poor folks.”

A cutting voice rang gratingly through the air. Little Joe took a moment to seek out the direction it flew from, Willy Brown, a surly kid a year or two older than Joe. Willy had a hard row to hoe, his manners and belligerent tone, kept most of the kids away from him. The son of a mine superintend with much the same attributes, he did not fit in well, he had not been in school yesterday and his second hand version of the story only served to nettle his resentment of Joe and his family. It wasn’t hard to see why. Tension began to build as it usually did right about now backing away most of their classmates. It most often proved safer to kept their distance when Joe and Willy clashed.

Today Joe could ill afford such an encounter, how to do that might prove very tricky, good old Mitch came through like the pal he was.

“Hey Little Joe, better hurry, Miz Jones, has called class in early today somethin’ bout` a trip er’ somtin’ right gang?”

All the students turned to watch Mitch, unsure if this was true or just a ploy to help Joe.

“Honest!” Mitch yelped when he saw the looks on the faces before him.

A loud clang from the school bell gave his statement a measure of being legitimate at the moment. While the mass scurried to enter the schoolhouse Mitch hung back, so he and Joe could walk in together, safety in numbers was the rule.

It had come as an unexpected and very welcome diversion from the daily grind, the kids called school. There were always some exceptions to the rule that found school truly exciting and ever so interesting, Joe was sure his brother Adam naturally fell into that category, most likely the one at the top of the list leading all the others.

It was both a trying, frustrating, day, relief coming in spurts from a number of directions. The trip outside for a nature lesson, to be followed by a 4 page essay, with drawings, culminating in a huge test, counting one fourth of one’s mid year grade, left more than just a sour taste in Joe’s mouth. It left a gaping hole in his stomach, and uneasy feeling at the base of his spine.

Blessedly the day ended with no real disaster one way or another. Joe’s truce with Owen went well. The stalemate between he and Owens sister Jane remained unresolved, but Joe just loved a challenge, and she was definitely that. Willy, found no one to back up his desire to mix things up with Little Joe at the present, so he backed off, vowing another day.

“Class dismissed.” Miss Jones clapped her hands as she gave her students one final nod, calling after the eager exodus, “Remember boys and girls.... Tomorrow is reading appreciation day!”

The collective groan that swelled then died away elicited a prim “Well!” Disdain for their lack of interest in the classics pinching her already canary sharp features.

“Hey! Little Joe, how bout’ joinin us in some explorin’ and maybe some fishin’ sorta’ to take our minds off that up commin’ nature thing a ma-bobb.’ ” Seth called out.

“Sorry fellas’ not today.” Joe quickly saddled Cochise thrilled to be getting home not only on time, and with a little luck and his fast horse, a few minutes early.

“Awwww Jooooe . . . what’s yer hurry pal? The weather it ain’t gonna stay nice much longer, fact’ it getting chilly most nights already!” Whined Kenny, things just weren’t quite as interesting or exciting with out the active, ingénues always creative, mind of Little Joe.

“Hey.” Joe said as he led his paint mare over to where his school chums waited for him.

“Fella’s I ‘d love to join ya, really I would, but . . . see, today is my brother Hoss’ birthday and well . . . much as I enjoy your company. My brother has to come first, I . . .”

“Yeah, not to mention your hide.” Laughed Tommy.

Joe blushed just a little, they all knew what a strict father Ben Cartwright was, and all marveled at Joe’s often disregard to his rules, in spite of the results.

“Oh yeah, I’ll bet ole’ Hop Sing is baking one of them famous white cloud vanilla cakes of his huh! With the boiled white frosting . . .Ummmm . . . Think ya can snag us a hunk for tomorrow Joe?” Mitch his eyes misting in reverence to the Cartwright cooks ability.

“Are you kidding?” Joe his face lit with laughter eyes sparkling shook his head at such a request. “This is my brother Hoss we are talking about, not old stick in the mud. Left over cake, boy you sure are funny Mitch.” Joe mounted up.

“Well, it was worth a try.” Mitch offered giving the horse a pat on the rump shrugging his shoulders companionably “Ya better git goin pal.”

“Yeah, see ya Joe, tell Hoss happy birthday for us.” Chorused the small group of boys. Joe sent his horse into a gallop waving his hat wildly to them in response as he flew down the road towards home.

“Sure wish I had a horse like that one.” Someone muttered as they all prepared to continue their quest for fun.

“Don’t we all.” Echoed another.

“Hop Sing.” Ben came around the corner into his kitchen coming face to face with his cook, who was wearing his usual angry frown at being interrupted.

“Oh, excuse me. I was just wanting to tell you everything smells just wonderful, Hoss will no doubt be ecstatic and very, very pleased.”

Hop sing bowed slightly in thanks to the praise, still stony faced.

“What you need? Hop Sing velly busy, no have time to chat!”

“Uh, I know that.” Even Ben Cartwright treaded lightly when Hop Sing took on this attitude.

“I  . . . well- er-never mind.” He turned and left muttering to himself “Fine thing when a man can’t even get a hot cup of coffee in his own kitchen, herumph!” Then a warm smile changed his frown. “What would I ever do with out you my good man?”

The sound of a horse entering the yard at a sharper clip then allowed heralded the arrival of his youngest son. Smile changing back into a frown he stormed out the front door to stand on the edge of the veranda hands on his hips a menacing growl ready to spring forth.

“Ooops . . . Oh, hi Pa.”

“Don’t you hi Pa, me young man!”

Joe slid repentantly off his horse, and obediently stood head down shoulders slumped.

“Alright, Sigh! What is your excuse this time? Lets get it over with . . . I am trying not to let this latest and well-worn, discussion rile me, and spoil your brothers day.

Joe cringed lower and lower with every taught syllable delivered.

“Gulp, Pa, I, w-was in a hurry . . . to . . .”

Ben cut him off. “That is also over worn and over worked Joseph! You young man, are always in a hurry! With a few exceptions, arriving on time for dinner, getting up on time in the morning not to mention getting to school on time. It has however proven all too often when getting your chores done properly you are quite good at hurrying through! Am I correct Joseph? ” His voice now rose to meet his building frustration, the need for that soothing cup of coffee he had been denied, fueled his anger.

Joe looked up at his father wide eyed. Knowing full well he was not to enter the yard like this it always brought with it a stern reprimand, why was it this time Pa seemed more agitated.

“Yes sir.”

“Go put that horse away! Get to your chores, do Hoss’ and Adam’s while you are at it. Then go get ready for dinner . . .and walk don’t run!” He bellowed retreating to the house. “Oh, Lord, I need that cup of coffee.” Having shut the door behind him Ben never saw the boy’s expression; he shook his head still frowning.

Slowly he made his way over to the red leather chair sinking down into it with a deep sigh, now was not the time, but unable to hold them back the memories flooded his mind, overwhelming him. First came the memory of the gentle blue eyes, the way her features glowed at the mention of his having a child. Then the sweet smile, the slightly hurt look at his gruff manner. Tears seeped into his eyes. The image in his mind intensified, became sharper, the tremendous amount of compassion as she knelt in front of his little boy and tenderly asked to see his throat. From there they sped across his mind with blinding speed. Wedding, preparations for their new life, the continuation of his dream, The warmth and joy brought into his lonely hungry soul. The light now in the eyes of his quiet little boy, the mischievous grin that showed his dimples more often accompanied that light. His own stern countenance softened, he could now see things his boy got into with humor instead of anger.

The wagon trip, the hardships she faced with steadfast faith in him, her quiet assurance he was doing the right thing. Hoss’ birth, the awe of this precious child spilling over him. Little Adam’s face beaming with pride at being a big brother, his child’s demand they call him Hoss, as suggested by his uncle Gunar. The resigned look when Inger hoped to call him Eric, and Ben had said they could call him both, and see which one would stick, Adam had won, and his baby brother would forever be known as Hoss.

Then that last terrible day, those last hours tortured him unmercifully, he woke with a startled yell of her name on his lips. Bolting upright, eyes wide, confused and shaking to find himself in his own living room. Sensing another in the room Ben turned to see the pale face of his youngest son fearfully watching him from behind the settee.

“Joe? I- please excuse me son.” Ben raced up the stairs, to the sanctuary of his room, horrified at his son seeing him this way.

“Father be alright.” came the soft voice at Joe’s side. “You come help make last minute details for dinner.” The gentle hand patted his shoulder and led him off towards the kitchen.

Tears in his own eyes the boy sought an answer. “W-hat, what’s the matter with Pa?”

“Just have moment of sadness for Hoss’ mother, he be okay, in a little while. Not to worry.”

Joe looked back over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen. Adam, he needed to talk with Adam, to put his mind at ease. Adam would explain, he always knew how to put things right.

Up stairs Ben wiped the tears away, infuriated at losing control, letting his emotions run away on him. That was not supposed to happen till tonight after all the boys were in bed and he could be assured no one would hear, after all these years the pain could still get to him at times like this.

Still uneasy Joe did as Hop Sing requested and helped with the kitchen chores. All three boys were well trained in kitchen work, Ben had taught them that there was no job on the ranch they did not need to know and that included the house.

Often the tedious house chores were saved as part of discipline it gave them great insight and lots of time to reflect on whatever transgression they were working off. Today was one of the days when it was not so much a chore as a pleasure. Joe would have been paying better attention to the vegetable he was peeling, had not he witnessed his father’s distress, before he knew it Hop Sing bopped him on the head with his spoon.

“Owww hey, whad ya do that for?”

Hop Sing just pointed to the skinny little orange pencil in his hand that had a few moments ago been a fat juicy carrot.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” He grimaced “Guess I’d better pay more attention huh?”

Bop! “Owwww okay, okay I got ya!”

Joe rubbed the top of his head, glaring at the back of the cook he dared to stick out his tongue assuming they were alone, he assumed wrong.

“Consider yourself lucky kid! If Pa came in right now.” Came the dry comment at the entrance of the kitchen.

Joe dropped his carrot remains and next thing Adam knew he was almost bowled over by Joe’s hug, as the younger boy wrapped his body around his older brother. The act both startled and worried the young man. Adam returned the hug briefly, then, pushed Joe back slightly.

“Whoa, what all this about little buddy you in some kind of big trouble? I sure hope not!”

Joe just shook his head, closing his eyes tightly together to keep the tears at bay. Adam raised his one brow and took a quick glance over the top of Joe’s head to Hop Sing. Hop Sing raised his hands over his own head and shrugged, there was no time to explain.

“Joe?”

Opening his eyes at last the boy looked up at Adam. “I-I-need ta talk to ya, private, please...”

Adam furrowed his brow at this worry-some request. “Kay  . . . sure Joe, why don’t you come help me in the barn.”

“Hop Sing . . . I gotta go with Adam but I’ll hurry back.”

Turning the cook waved him off. “You go . . . no need pencil need carrots!”

Joe flinched and darted out of the room. Adam, now both brows raised tilted his head, and whistled softly, before retreating after Joe.

In the barn it took a few false starts and a great deal of hemming and hawing, mixed with a little stuttering, stirring up a mixture of suspicion and concern, in Adam. At last Joe got out what he was trying to tell him.

“Oh, Little Joe, Pa’s alright kid, I’m sure he was just caught up in a moment of revere about Mama Inger.” Adam’s voice was low, wistful and gentle. He found himself unprepared for these unguarded memories of his own. Sweet smile, soft hands, wonderful shinny blue eyes, the tender warmth of her arms around a little boy who so need to feel them.

Joe watched Adam’s face, fascinated by the emotions displayed thereon, something he was rarely privy to.

Blinking rapidly Adam overcame his momentary vulnerability. Joe grabbed a pitchfork busying himself with the already clean stall his own eyes blinking so fast he made himself dizzy.

“Hey, brothers.” It was Hoss who broke the silence and alleviated the tension. “Please tell me you two ain’t squabbling agin’ I’m plum out a energy, n’ needin that dinner powerful bad.” The big blue eyes looked so hopeful Adam and Joe looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“No, Hoss, no squabble, at least not yet . . . and . . .” Adam stopped mid sentence “Well would you look at this, I’ll be . . .Hoss little brother here has already done all our barn chores. Am I dreaming?”

Joe gave them his best grin, “You two can put the rake n’ other things away, I’m finished here.” Dusting his hands together he announced, “I’m headin in to wash up.” With that he backed out of the barn. With a crisp salute he spun around and sprinted to the front porch calling over his shoulder,“ Oh and brothers, don’t be late . . . Pa wouldn’t like that!” The cackle echoed even after the front door shut behind him.

“Shall we?”

“Gotta take care of Chub first.”

“How bout I do that for you?” That way you will be free.”

“Thank ya kindly Adam, I preciate` it.”

“Welcome, brother.”

They smiled at each other for a moment. Hoss slapped Adam on the back and headed off towards the front door.

Adam shook his head and led Chubb into his stall and began to unsaddle him. 

Once alone in the barn Adam dared to let his guard down, swinging the saddle from Chubb’s back to the wall separating his stall from his own Sport, he rested his arms on top dropping his head, quietly as he had when he was a small boy, shed tears for the first Mama he had ever known.

Hoss entered the house in his usual way, the door swung wide to bang into the credenza, his booming voice, unnecessary as the door hitting the credenza had already told all in the house Hoss was home.

Ben was on the landing now re-covered and having changed into a clean white shirt just turning down the collar. “H-oss, must you always slam the door open?”

He closed his eyes momentarily to then open them and look heavenward shaking his head at the futility in trying to get Hoss to change his ways, then again. A smile replacing the stern frown, he continued down to clasp the boy in a welcoming hug.

Hoss blushed deep pink. “Aawww, I ain’t been gone but a few hours, but it sure is good to know how much my good ol’ Pa, misses me.”

“What? Why you young pup, your lucky it’s your birthday, or I might just have to have a “Talk” with you about your sass. Have you been listening to those brothers of yours?”

Hoss’ face went bright red a gurgling noise bubbled up in his throat. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. As if on cue Adam came in the front door as Joe came around from the kitchen. They met near the settee both looking from Ben to Hoss and back.

“E-every-thing, alright here?” Adam questioned, looking over at Joe, who shrugged.

“Suppah almost ready, no serve dirty boys, no even birthday boy!”  

All three of Ben’s sons had identical sheepish smiles on their faces. “Yes Hop Sing, were goin.’” They dashed up the stairs in age, Joe, Hoss, then Adam, but not before he gently touched his fathers arm in passing, squeezing just enough for Ben to understand and no one could have noticed.

When they presented themselves at the table some 10 minutes or so later they were met by a beaming father, and a slightly disgruntled cook.

“Why you take so long? I maybe go back China, no birthday dinner.”

Hoss came around and took hold of the man’s arm, swallowing he looked pitifully down on the small face full of challenge. “B-but Hop S-Sing, it’s ma’ birthday,”

Hop Sing stood tapping his foot, as if deciding. The other two boys held their breath, eyes wide, only Ben seemed not the least bit concerned.

“Well, okay, show me hands.” The three young men obediently and instantly complied, showing him the palms then turning them over to show the backs of their hands, proof they had indeed washed up good and proper.

“Herumph!” He snorted. “All Time too much foolisment, you sit!” The air swished in the room from the speed with which they complied. After a suitable moment for the maximum amount of breath being held Hop Sing pivoted that sly smile wrinkling his face.

Returning to the table arms laden with the feast he had so lovingly and willingly provided for his favorite food enthusiast Hop Sing placed them in front of Hoss. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Hoss!”

Lightly patting the young man ‘s arm he scurried back waiting for the call.

“Well Hot Diggity Dog! Hop Sing don’ out did himself fer shore! I thought this mornin’ was about the best but this here, Whooeee!”

Joe leaned his elbow on the table chin in hand staring at Hoss. Ben busied himself with his napkin and straightening the crease in the tablecloth to his left. Adopting a similar pose with his elbows Adam pursed his lips then pressed them into his knuckles, which he had folded together, his eyes also fixed on the almost oblivious Hoss, nothing worked as he and Joe felt their mouths watering.

Hoss finally noticed the silence. “Ain’t you three gonna join me?”

“How?”

Hoss stopped and looked around not sure what Adam was referring to, Until-

“Hop Sing, you can bring out the rest of the dinner plates and silverware now!”

Ben started to laugh, his deep voice rolling over his sons, Adam gave him that look of his, Little Joe almost pouted, Hoss eagerly passed around the platters brimming with all his favorite foods, sharing his birthday feast with his Pa and brothers was he felt the best thing on this earth. Presents were great, sure but nothing came close in Hoss’ book to his family.

Four Cartwright’s hungrily devoured in record time what had taken hours that day and days before this to prepare, Hop Sing was supremely pleased.

As Hop Sing brought out his crowning achievement a huge vanilla cake smothered in boiled white frosting, bearing the words “Happy Birthday Hoss” candles a glow and flickering reflected in the blue eyes as he set it down. For the next few moments nothing happened, then.

“Hoss?”

“Yeah Pa?” It sounded far away.

“The candles are melting.”

“Jest’ a second more, ain’t they pretty?”

“Uh, yes, brother they are, however wax is not as tasty as you might not know.”

A gust of air extinguished the dancing little flames in unison with Hoss’ traditional birthday wish.

“There Adam, now ya can all relax.” 

 Ben picked up the long knife slicing deeply into the soft surface, dispatching to each son starting with Hoss a generous hunk of unparalleled culinary delight. Once again the room fell silent as each savored the texture, the aroma of pure vanilla, and sugary frosting, Hoss closed his eyes heaven that’s what this was, heaven.

Feeling stuffed to the point of hurting, Ben pushed back from the table and indicated they retire to the great room to gather around the fireplace and attend to the last part of the party.

Little Joe, whom with out the subtle hints and steadying toe nudges under the table from Adam, never would have made it this far, his inability to sit still when not excited, was evident, to have contained himself this long, near impossible.

Twitching and bouncing on the settee as the other three drew out the last moments, the steam building up until at last Ben gave in.

“So, birthday boy which gift would you like first?”

Smiling and blushing Hoss’ pat answer each year flowed out as predicted. “Aww, fella’s presents ain’t that important ta me.”

“Well they are to us.” Joe bounced to his feet.

“Sit down Joseph!”  Was followed by the boy sliding back down but not quite ready to give in.

 “Hoss Plesssszze! Make up your mind!”

“Don’t rush me short shanks, I gotta be sure every one is ready, and comfortable, it is my birthday and I kin enjoy it fer long as it lasts.” Hoss teased, Joe hated being made to wait. On his birthday it was all they could do to restrain him until after breakfast let alone all day and then after dinner besides.

“Ohhh all right, baby brother, go get this gift that has bout’ got ya jumpin out a’ ya skin . . .”

Suddenly Joe flopped back against the settee, “Nah, let Pa or older brother here go first, he looked about the room as if bored to tears, “Cause, they got ya real special presents. Me?” his shoulders rose and fell while his hands batted the air.

Adam sat up fingers tenting on his lips black brow arching high into his hair line, sharp dark hazel eyes snapping with curiosity. Ben stopped mid way with the wood sliver intended to catch the tobacco in his pipe half way to his mouth.

Joe rolled his eyes towards the ceiling humming under his breath, fingers now drumming the arm of the settee. Two can play this game.

“Either our younger brother here has managed a true miracle or is just stalling facing the inevitable empty hand syndrome.”

“Laugh, if you want, Ooolder brother.”

Ben closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “Never mind, I will go first, seeing I am the Parent here, and with out me! Not one of you would be here in the first place.”

Sighing he hefted himself from his chair and went over to his desk, where half under the desk and covered with a bed sheet lay the saddle.

Hoss turned to look over his shoulder as Ben hefted the beautiful saddle to the back of the captain’s chair near his desk. In the warm yellow of the lamp its rich color and deep tooling spoke of painstaking hours of tedious work, and additional hours or rubbing oil and soap into the leather to have it gleam so.  

All Hoss could do was stand up wobbly bracing his hand on the arm of the settee staring open mouthed and forgetting to breath.

“Well do you like it son?”

Hoss shook his head back and forth.

“No?”

“Uh, not no, no, and yes, I m-mean, no Pa I don’t deserve such a thing.”

Ben smiled wistfully, Hoss was so like Inger at this very moment, so selfless and self conscious, he went to his boy and wrapping his arms around him whispered “No, Son, there is no one else I can think of who deserves a gift like this more than you. Thank you Hoss for being the wonderful son you are, Happy Birthday.”

Adam had joined them clapping his brother on the back, then ran his hand over the saddle whistling softly, “Sure is a beauty, Hoss, you and Chubb will have heads turning when you ride into town on this.” Hoss managed to swallow the great lump in his throat, but the tears he let flow.

“Yha think so Ada-am?”

“You bet I do, and just to prove it –Here, Happy Birthday-Little brother!”

Hoss feeling a little light headed managed to get the saddle off the chair and sit down. For a moment he studied the box, it said it came all the way from San Francisco. With a huge drawn in breath he very reverently undid the wrapping, when he had removed the lid and exposed the stunning hand crafted boots he hesitantly ran one finger down the length of the roughed out boot. Not a pair of as Hoss himself called ‘Dandy’ boots but true working boots ones a man wore out on the range, ones all the hands would admire. It signified to Hoss how much store his big brother put in his ability to be a vital part of running the family ranch. Sucking in a deep breath he whispered. “Dawgonne Adam, what’d ya go and spend all this money on these.”

“Because it’s your birthday, and you are my Ahem! Little and I use this loosely, brother and one of the finest men I have ever had the pleasure to know.”

Standing back Little Joe watched, it wasn’t often he got to see this interplay between Adam and Hoss no denying it they had something special a bond beyond being brothers.

Ben felt those maddening waves begin to blur his vision, and the need to sniffle almost as bad as the need to clear his throat. The fabricated sneeze fooled no one but it was the best he could do, turning his back he wiped his face, then coming back around shrugged, “Well son, I would say at this rate, two out of three isn’t bad.”

Three sets of eyes no make that four however the last set went undetected, lit on the youth still standing near the Settee, while Hoss and his brother had been pre-occupied he slipped around to snatch his gift from behind the kindling box. Joe’s impish grin as he marched up and handed Hoss the rather crumpled sheet of brown butcher paper he had rescued from the trash heap containing his gift brought raised brows also prompted his answer.

“Hey, whadda want! I ain’t got millions like some people; (still grinning) I do have ingenuity though, and can be very resourceful when . . .”

“Somehow Joseph that admission isn’t very comforting right now.”

Hoss sat there the crumpled gift in his lap, half afraid to open it and half wild with curiosity.

“Well Geeeewizzz! Here I’ll open it!”   

“Git yer gubby little hand offin’ it! As I said this IS MY Birthday”

His mile wide smile almost split his face as Hoss quickly dispensed with the wrapping; there was no need for caution.

When the paper was torn away it exposed the gloves, the cuff bearing the neatly and boldly stitched bright blue letters HEC.

Adam stepped closer and leaning over to inspect them at the same time glancing out the corner of his eye checking to see how Joe was reacting. Ben lifted them up and turned them over several times as his dark brown eyes shifted from son to son and back. Joe stood with his hands behind his back, a pose that could mean more than one thing. Then Ben stood up straight a pleased expression on his face he nodded to Adam, handing the gloves back to Hoss he faced his youngest.

“Very nice, Joseph, very nice.”

“Yes little brother I admit I never thought you could do it, congratulations on finding Hoss a gift worthy of our brother.”

Adam patted Joe on the shoulder, as his back was to Ben his father did not see the expression on Adam’s face that clearly said “I will find out, if you acquired these in any underhanded manor or came up with the money in one of your shady schemes.”

Joe lowered his eyes, it was only a second but it was enough for Adam, in a spontaneous gesture instead he grabbed his baby brother in a warm hug turning them both to once again face Hoss who had begun to slip into his new boots, once he had them on he stomped his feet to settle them, “Adam goll-dang, these dern things feel, better en’ my house slippers!”

The pure delight set off gales of laughter, “Just you be careful Hoss and don’t forget which is which when you head out to the south range tomorrow!”

Ben’s booming voice doubled the laughter as his big son blushed, “Awww Pa.”

As the other family members wiped laughing eyes Hoss, tongue, poking out the side of his mouth in true Hoss fashion pulled the thick gloves over his huge hands, flexing the fingers he held one up to admire it.

“Hot Dogg, Little Brother, if these ain’t but to purty’ to be work gloves, thank ya’ Little Joe, and me? I ain’t bout to go snoopin inta’ the why and how’s,” Standing up he strode over and removing Adam’s arm still draped over Joe’s shoulder lifted they boy into his arms whirling them both around until they nearly toppled over and fell into the table behind the settee.

“Whoa! That’s enough you two, I can’t afford to keep replacing my furniture because of you two!”

But there was no real anger in it, he and Adam each taking hold of the dizzy pair and leading them around to sit down on the settee instead of crashing into it. Hoss grinned in a dopey manor and Joe began to giggle, Adam shook his head and sank back into his blue chair, Ben once again took his place in his red leather chair, there was a few moments silence as Joe’s giggle faded, the fire crackled. With a great sigh and yawn Hoss placed his new boots on the broad table in front of him, reaching up to grab an apple, taking a great bite relaxing back, arm draped over Joe’s shoulder.

“Ya know fella’s I must be the luckiest guy in the territory.” He swallowed and took another big bite. “Yep, the best Pa, big en’ little brothers, and the finest boots saddle and gloves to be had, what more could I want?”

Ben and Adam’s matching winks were lost on the two younger members of the family; Joe his head had fallen onto Hoss’ chest, fast asleep. Hoss mouth open almost there himself, apple now resting in his lap his hand having dropped down, a minute later, the sound of his signature snore bounced around the great room.

Hoss was right, with a family like his Ben thought, nothing else really mattered, but the Boots, Saddle and last but not lest fine Gloves spoke eloquently about how they all felt, making it a day befitting Hoss. Settling back into his red chair letting his own eyes slowly drift closed at the same time he let his mind travel, only vaguely aware of the soft strains of the guitar as Adam sat strumming, a gently melody from long ago.

The End 

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