Summary: It’s brother against brother, Cartwright style! Revenge is not a dish best served cold–it’s best served to the sound of the cannon!

Rating: K  (1,160 words)

THE SOUND AND THE FURY

“…the game’s afoot; follow your spirit, and upon this charge cry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’” shouted Henry V, formerly known as Little Joe Cartwright, and the folks in the packed seats at Piper’s leaned forward, ready to rush the French defenses right along with him. He a fair-to-middlin’ actor, but the audience was still inspired. From off stage Abigail Jones made a signal, which was relayed to a person at the door, who in turn relayed it to a person outside. And outside, that person touched the fuse on the Model 1841 twelve-pound howitzer by the opera house, and the pound of powder inside ignited.

The cannon’s deafening roar tore through the auditorium and blew out a window; a few people scattered throughout the building actually screamed in terror. Joe Cartwright shrieked, a prolonged and terrified cry two octaves above his normal squeaky tenor. The sound of his scream carried almost to C Street. His pants dropped to his ankles at that moment, and he left them “behind” and bolted from the stage while the audience howled with laughter.

And Adam Cartwright murmured to the cannon beside him, “No grudges, little brother. I kept my promise. I helped Miss Abigail, and I got you a real gun.”

Three weeks earlier:

“…cry God for Harry, England, and Saint George!” Little Joe thrust his sword into the air—two rapid hand-claps followed and someone mincingly cried out, “Sound of the cannon!” Joe and the rest of the students of the Virginia City schoolhouse gave a hearty battle cry and rushed forward.

“Wonderful!” shouted Abigail Jones. “All right students, take a brief rest while I confer with Mr. Cartwright. Oh, Adam! Adam!” In the wings, Adam Cartwright, his eyes looking like a deer in a hunter’s rifle sights, tried to bolt, but it was too late; Abigail Jones always got her man. Besides, Joe Cartwright had thoughtfully bolted the door to ensure his brother didn’t escape as he had the day before.

Joe put his sword down. “I hate this play. I hate Shakespeare. And Adam’s even worse. He’s gonna drive me outta my gourd, prancin’ around clapping his hands and sayin’ ‘sound of the cannon!’ in that prissy little voice. I’m concentratin’ on him so hard that I’m missing other cues.”

“He does sound prissy,” Seth chuckled. “Almost like he’s trying to be a girl. Wonder why.”

Mitch thought it over. “I think it’s because he didn’t wanna do this in the first place and Little Joe made him do it.”

Joe snorted. “He was easy enough to persuade—after all, Pa was on my side. All I know now is, by the time we open this play I’m gonna have a crick in my neck from strainin’ to hear that prissy little ‘sound of the cannon’ during every rehearsal.”

“Naw,” Mitch replied encouragingly. “He promised he’d use a real gun for us when we do the real play. He said to make sure I told you that, Joe.”

“The question is, do I believe it. Not for a second. He’d give anything to see me mess up in front of the whole town.”

“Why?” Seth asked.

“Aw, I got rid of that silly girl he was running around with, and he’s still mad about it.”

“No he ain’t,” Mitch said. “He told me he wasn’t carryin’ a grudge, and he said he was gonna get a nice loud gun for you on opening night.”

“Great,” Joe replied glumly. “With luck it’ll be a .44 Colt and I might be able to hear it. And this darn costume Miss Jones made doesn’t fit right, either. The pants are too big.”

Six weeks earlier:

“There is no way in Hades I would help you do that play, and you’ve got some nerve asking, Little Joe. You know how Abigail Jones acts around me.”

“One girl’s pretty much like another,” Joe proclaimed in superior tones. “And you didn’t mind Virginia Keith actin’ that way around you.”

“And thanks to you, she won’t even speak to me now,” Adam retorted.

“Oh come on, Adam. A gal that can’t even handle a horse ain’t worth your time anyhow.”

“There was a burr under the saddle! And you put it there!”

“Did not!” Behind his back, Joe crossed his fingers.

Adam drew a deep breath to carry the argument further, but Ben stepped in. “Adam, this is childish behavior from you. This fight over Miss Keith is a week old and you still refuse to accept Little Joe’s explanation. The fact is that you’ve been insufferable ever since you returned from college, and Miss Keith was just as tired of it as the rest of us. I doubt she’d still be walking out with you anyway if you treated her the way you treat Little Joe.”

“The way I treat him? How about the way he treats me? He scraped up an anthill and put it in my boots! I can’t get in bed nights without checking for snakes and scorpions. Two of my favorite books have mysteriously ‘disappeared’ and shreds from them turned up in the hog pen! And as far as my being insufferable, all I’ve done is offered some suggestions to improve the way the ranch is run, and you won’t listen to anything I say. You paid a hefty amount for my education, and you won’t let me use it.”

“I paid a hefty amount for your education, so I expect you to do as you’re told. And leave your brother alone. You have yet to prove that he did any of these things, and you’ve made the poor child miserable with these groundless accusations. In any case, I expect more mature behavior from you than from him.”

Adam put both his hands up, an abrupt and weak gesture of surrender. “Yes, sir. You are right; I should be mature.”

“Yes, you should.”

Adam looked at his father, as an audible sigh escaped him. “Joe, no grudges. I’ll ride into town with you tomorrow and talk to Miss Jones.”

He walked away and slowly mounted the stairs. Ben turned to Joe. “Now you see, your brother has decided to behave with grace and dignity. I hope you’ll do the same.”

Joe grinned, foreseeing long days of misery ahead for Adam at the hands of Abigail Jones. But as Ben Cartwright returned to the newspaper, Hoss beckoned Joe over. “You better be real careful, Little Joe.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I know the truth. Nobody ain’t asked me about it, so I ain’t said anything either. But Adam knows too, even if he can’t prove it. And our older brother ain’t like other fellas. He’s…sneaky.”

“Don’t worry,” Joe replied with the absolute confidence of 12-year-olds everywhere. “He’ll never catch me with my pants down.”

Tags:  Adam Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright, revenge