Summary: Ben Cartwright finally finds where he wants to be – and picks up a passenger along the way.

Rating:  T  (8,830 words)

Inger Series:

Inger
After Ash Hollow
Searching for Elizabeth
Journey’s End

Journey’s End

Eric Hoss Cartwright sat on the bottom step of the porch that protruded from the front of the small cabin.  He was far from happy.  His bottom lip jutted out and his brow was furrowed while his blue eyes were obscured by the ferocity of his scowl

He was three years old now and no longer a baby.

 

He had been far too young to remember arriving at the small settlement that nestled in the valley below the vast mountains that was the barrier between them and their future destination.   He knew nothing about the disappointment every man and woman had felt at realising that despite the hardships, heartbreaks and tragedies they were too late to cross the snow laden Sierras.

 

Forced into making decisions that they had not wanted, the families separated,  some to stay at the small settlement and build temporary cabins in which to live, others to turn back, preferring the security of an army fort nearby for protection.  Some died en route due to disease, the extreme weather and Indian attack.

 

Ben Cartwright had chosen to stay with his two children.  He saw Frank and Rachel Simon, the Sachs family, and the Phillips return with several other wagons under the guidance of Chad Ryan.

 

“I’ll return in the spring, Ben, I promise you.” Chad had shaken the young mans hand firmly, “We’ll take the wagons over then if you still have a mind to do so.”

 

“I don’t intend changing my mind, Chad.” Ben replied with a grim smile.

 

Ryan had said nothing to that, but merely nodded, gave his friend a narrow eyed grin and turned to mount his horse.  He wheeled it round to take a last look at the man standing in the doorway with the infant in his arms and the little boy standing resolutely by his side.  He had saluted them with a smile,

 

“Until the spring …”

 

They had watched him gallop to the head of the small convoy of wagons and when spring came they waited for his return.  But he never came back.

 

Money was scarce and Ben felt he was something of a liability to the small settlement.   He had built a cabin for the three of them, which was shared by Henry Scott who had built a lean-to affair on the back in which he slept.    When it was clear that Chad was not going to return and there was no one available who could or would lead the convoy over the mountains Ben knew he had to find some form of employment.

 

With promises of a prompt return he left them to ride out to the nearest Fort where he joined the army.   It was some kind of irony that he, who was in need of a scout, was employed by the army, as a scout.   He saw the irony of it but made no comment.  He had regular pay, three meals a day and the assurance that it was not going to last forever.

 

This situation was not new to Adam Cartwright but it certainly was new to Hoss who had not liked it one bit.  Put into the care of another family while their father was absent did not sit well with Hoss although they always returned to their own cabin with Henry in the evenings.   There Henry Scott would tell them about New York and life in the big city.   He would talk until Hoss would slowly fold over on himself into sleep and then he would put Hoss on the big bed that was shared by Adam.

 

That was how they had slept since Hoss was big enough to have out grown his crib.  In the mornings they would waken with their heads touching, close enough to count each others freckles.  The first to wake would wait awhile to take in the new morning before jabbing a finger in the others ribs, stomach, or kicking at their feet.  That’s how it was every morning.

 

Adam accepted the fact that his father had had to go.  He knew that had there been another alternative his father would have taken it.  However, each night he would creep to the window and light the candle on the cill.  He would say his evening prayer to keep his father safe, and bring him home, very soon.  Then he would creep back to bed, snuggle down beside Hoss and go over in his mind all the things his father had taught him until he would fall asleep.

 

Henry had not been entirely happy with the situation either.  He had been torn about leaving himself and riding along with Ben, but then he set eyes on a fine gal who lived not so far away and decided that the time he had in the settlement would give him a fine chance to spark her.   He succeeded well enough to find himself being tied to ‘naming the day’ and he assured her that as soon as Ben Cartwright rode home and freed him from his ‘obligations to the boys’ he would marry her.

 

Hoss was upset this particular day because Adam was going to school.  It was not real school, no school house or anything like that, just that Mrs Jenkins, who had been a school teacher, decided that the older children needed schooling and had decided to use part of her cabin as the school room.   In Hoss’ opinion it was pure wrong to have a crowd of children herded into a small cabin and made to read and write.   He pouted as his brothers footsteps could be heard walking resolutely towards him,

 

“You be good now, Hoss.” Adam’s voice had a tone of bossiness that Hoss resented and he turned and scowled at him.  “Mind what I said, Hoss, you behave yourself at the Whitmores.”

 

“I ain’t goin’”

 

“Yes, you are.”  Adam stood right close up to Hoss and glared down at him so that the child scampered up to his feet to stand confronting his brother,

 

“I ain’t.  I is gonna stay put here and wait for Pa.”

 

“Well, Pa ain’t comin’ home today, so there …”

 

“He is too.”

 

Adam frowned.  His dark eyes lost their anger as usual when he was talking to Hoss.  His baby brother just didn’t understand how things were at times and Adam’s soft heart soon gave way to the little boy’s moods.  Not that Hoss was a bad tempered child at all, usually he was as sunny as could be, it was just that his routine was changed and he felt unsettled.

 

“Look, Hoss, I shan’t be far from the Whitmore’s cabin.  If’n you want me at all you can just come right on over and see me.   Henry’s not far either if you need him.”

 

“Don’t want Henry.  I want Pa.”

 

Adam took hold of his brother’s hand in his own and held it gently.  He wanted to say ‘So do I want Pa’ but somehow the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.  He just stood there looking at Hoss until he heard Henry close the cabin door.

 

“Come on, boys, let’s go.”  Henry Scott smiled widely at them both and ushered them from the cabin.

 

With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants Hoss scuffled along.  He had been going to the Whitmores with Adam ever since Pa left the settlement, and now Adam was going to be gone.  As if that was not bad enough Adam looked happy to be going.  He had talked about books and learning all through supper with Henry who had actually admitted to having gone to college and read many books.

 

The Whitmores cabin was the first they reached and Hoss was duly deposited with the couple.  They had a grownup son who was the settlements blacksmith.  John Whitmore was big and burly; he had a deep voice and used words and expressions that Hoss found truly delightful.   John Whitmore was Hoss’ hero.  When John said ‘Dangblast the thing …’ Hoss would promptly follow suit.   He would even try to strut the way John did, which, when he was that much younger and just learning to walk, provided some comic moments.

 

“I shall see you soon,” Adam promised his brother who stood and stared at him with tears now welling up in his blue eyes.  “It won’t be for long.  Hoss, if I learn to read real good I will be able to read you stories.”  He had squatted down a little, just so that he was eye level with him, and then he sighed.

 

Hoss watched him go.   His tears trickled down his cheeks and splashed on to his shirt.  He watched as Henry strode off with Adam to the Jenkins and they both disappeared around the corner.

 

“Blast ma hide,” a deep cheerful voice came from behind him and he was then lifted up shoulder high to look into the face of young John Whitmore.  “Ya ain’t meltin’ any, are ya, boy?”

 

“No.” Hoss struggled to smile and somehow the tears vanished.

 

“I reckon on hows you and me needs some victuals inside of our’n selves.” John deposited the boy on a chair and pulled up the one beside him, “Ma, what you got for two starving men here?”

 

“Pancakes,” Ma Whitmore replied with a smile, “And blueberries.”

 

“Shucks, blueberries.” Hoss exclaimed and remembered the morning he and Adam went out to pick them from the hillside close by.

 

“Dish ‘em up, Ma.  Reckon I could stow away least six.”

 

“An’ me too.” Hoss nodded his blue eyes twinkling.

 

“Then when we done eating, young Hoss, we’ll go to work.”

 

This was something new to Hoss.  Going to work?  He looked doubtfully at John who winked very comically.

 

“I need a boy who can blow the bellows,” John said and pulled the plate of pancakes towards him.

 

Hoss frowned, he didn’t know what bellows were, although he knew that Henry sometimes bellowed if he stubbed his toe or anything like that, even Adam bellowed at times.  He looked thoughtfully at his plate and then up at John,

 

“I can blow out candles, and Adam sometimes lets me blow bubbles with the soap and water, but I ain’t not blowed and bellowed before.”

 

“Dang it,” John heaved a sigh, “that sure puts paid to that idea then.  You sure you ain’t worked at the bellows before, young Hoss?”

 

“I sorry, but -” Hoss stuffed more pancake into his mouth and dripped blueberry juice down his chin but he shook his head honestly for all that.

 

John shook his head thoughtfully,

 

“Guess you need educating, young fella.”

 

“Will it hurt?” Hoss blinked blue eyes as he looked into John’s face and the young man laughed and shook his head,

 

“Nary a bit of it,” he replied and looked over at his Ma and winked.

 

…………………..

 

Hoss enjoyed his time with John.  He proved to be very adept at ‘blowing the bellows’ as he sat on his stool and worked the bellows up and down to keep the coals burning red hot.  When John told him to ease off he did so and waited patiently until John told him to “start puffin’” again.   He also learned a whole range of new words and expressions that he concentrated hard on remembering for future use.

 

Even at his age Hoss had a totally different mode of speaking to Adam who had retained the more precise accent of his Boston antecedents.   This was hardly surprising as during his infancy Ben was Adam’s main and often sole companion from whom he was to learn everything.  The Whitmore’s, however, having had Hoss as their charge for most of his infancy had passed on to him the expressive language of their own region.   It was something Hoss was never to change or grow out of, it just seemed to, well, grow with him.

 

“Dang it,” he said when he dropped his spoon onto the floor at supper that evening.

 

“You don’t let Pa hear you say that or he’ll whop you.” Adam scolded, looking at his brother sternly.

 

“I don’t care.  John says it and so does Old John and so does Ma Whitmore.”

 

“Mrs Whitmore ain’t your Ma.” Adam replied pensively, “You don’t call her Ma, you hear me, Hoss?”

 

“Shucks, Adam, ‘cos I hear ya.”  He scowled at his food and pushed it around the plate with his spoon, “Why ain’t she my Ma?”

 

“Because she ain’t.  She’s John’s Ma, like Mrs Curtis is Fred’s Ma.”

 

“Then where’s my Ma?  Why ain’t I got a Ma?”

 

“Same reason I ain’t got one.” Adam snapped back, “Eat your food and stop talking with your mouth full.”

 

“Henry, have you got a Ma?”

 

Henry glanced over at Adam and then rolled his dark eyes,

 

“Reckon I did have some time or other, else I wouldn’t be here,” Henry replied, pouring the boys some milk into their mugs.

 

“What happened to her then?” Hoss squeaked up with his upper lip now framed by a white moustache.

 

“I guess I lost her.” Henry replied quietly, “Lots of folk lose their Ma’s some time or other, ain’t that so, Adam?”

 

Adam wasn’t saying anything.  He buried his face in his mug and wished the subject would just go away.  Hoss stared at the meat on his spoon,

 

“Ma – Mrs Whitmore made pancakes for me.” he smiled winningly, “I ate six.”

 

………………….

 

The weather was improving every week.   Every night Adam lit the candle in the window for his Pa to see should he be out in the dark looking for them.  Each night Adam prayed for his Pa and longed to see him again.  As Hoss’ soft breath wafted warmly upon his cheek Adam would stare up at the ceiling of the makeshift cabin and remember his Pa’s voice, the dark eyes, the slow smile that would make the eyes crinkle and twinkle.   Sometimes he would remember Inger, most of all he recalled her singing and the way she felt as he would lean against her when squished between her and his Pa on the wagon seat during that long and fearsome journey.  It all seemed so long ago now.

 

There had been the long nights when he would wake up sobbing and shaking with fear.  The same dreams.  The same horrors.  Always the same, always as terrible. Pa standing at his side and slowly retreating further and further away until he was just a black speck on the horizon.  He would call out for him, but unseen hands held him fast and a weight on his feet meant he could not move from the spot which held him fast.  He dared not turn to see who held him, but then, inevitably he would slowly turn his head and that was when he would wake up screaming.

 

The dreams didn’t come often now.   He could be in bed beside Hoss for a long time going over and over in his mind what had taken place during the day, the things said and done.  He’d say his prayer again just in case he had forgotten to mention something.  He’d try to fall asleep thinking of something he had enjoyed because Pa had said that worked better than anything else.

 

He was sitting on the floor at Mrs Jenkins (there were limited chairs available and even less room to spare for more) when Mr Curtis’ loud voice shouted aloud

 

“Wagons coming.  Wagons heading this way.”

 

Everyone moved.  Children scampered to their feet and ran getting in the way of the adults who were streaming from their cabins or shacks.   Sure enough there were the white canvas covered wagons lumbering towards them.   The Conestoga wagon was leading the others, and as was customary with this type of wagon the owner was walking on the left of the team of oxen, another man sat on the lazy board of the wagon in order to control the brake.

 

The first Conestoga type wagon were built by German settlers during the 1730’s and originally used as farm wagons carrying loads of one ton, but the wagon that rolled into the settlement that day was capable of carrying up to 6 tons.   Behind it came five other canvas covered wagons, the type that would one day come to be known as the Prairie Schooner.

 

Adam screwed up his eyes against the sun to watch the vehicles lumber into the settlement.   He knew his heart was pounding with excitement; for there had not been another wagon train arrive since Chad Ryans.   He looked at the faces of the excited pioneer families who looked down at him as they passed and finally came to a halt close to John Whitmore’s smithy.

 

There was a hubble babble of noise as the adults thronged together and children clung to their parents and surveyed the other children of the settlement shyly.   Adam just stood very still as though frozen to the spot.

 

“I’ve mail,” a man was yelling and holding up a buckskin sack, “Collected from the Forts en route from Independence.”

 

“Glory be,” John Whitmore sighed and Adam glanced up at him, not having realised the man was standing close by, “I wonder if there’s news from Jack.”  he put a hand on Adam’s shoulder and grinned, “Jack’s my brother.  He done join the army when we wuz on the way here.”

 

“Do you think my Pa would have written a letter to us?” Adam asked as gathering excitement welled up inside him and the thought of a letter propelled him forwards some paces before he was lifted right off his feet and swung high in the air.

 

He would have yelled a protest had he not recognised the dark eyes, the wide smile, and the proud face of his father who held him so closely now that the breath was practically pummelled out of his body.

 

………………………….

 

 

Ben Cartwright held the reins tightly in the hope that his strength would pass along the lines to the mules pulling his wagon.   At the same time he kept his eyes fixed on the destination point ahead.   It had taken so long, so very long, to get this last leg of the journey completed.  He had never given up hope of achieving it however and now, well, now here they were back in their wagon, and back on the trail.

 

Henry Scott was a married man now and ‘inherited’ the cabin they had built together.   Mr and Mrs Whitmore and young John had said their farewells and been paid their dues in full for taking care of the boys.  Adam and Hoss had said farewell to their friends in the settlement and like their father turned their faces to the mountains and to the fulfilment of that so elusive dream.

 

Hoss had not wanted to go.  His Pa was a comparative stranger to him and he wanted to stay and work the bellows with John in the smithy.  He wanted to say Dang and Doggone it without those stern black eyebrows knitting over the formidable nose and glaring down at him.   He liked the cabin, he knew where he was and where to go.  He had no memories of life in the wagons on the trail.

 

It was to no avail that Ben read to him from Paradise Lost; it was wasted on the little boy who had no love for the written word like his other son had from infancy.   Hoss wanted to know what a ‘power -dice’ was, he wanted to see it before he went there, he wanted to taste the food, and he wanted to know if there were animals there.

 

Once Ben had located Hoss’ Achilles heel he leaned heavily upon it … yes, there were lovely animals there waiting for Hoss to look after them, yes, there was plenty of food there, he’d love it all, indeed he would.   Hoss was not too sure but having fallen asleep and dreamt of a garden full of delightful little creatures bouncing about he woke up happier and agreed to go with them.    Not that he would have had much choice in the matter.

 

“He’s alright, Pa, just a mite ornery,” Adam had assured his father as they’d checked the can of grease that was to hang from a hook between the back wheels.

 

“I should have come back sooner, Adam, but to be honest I had no choice but to say a while longer.  Old ‘Fuss and Fudget’ was not the kind of officer to be left in charge of a stray donkey let alone a regiment of recruits.”

 

Adam had nodded sagely having heard all about the Officer known to them now as Old Fuss and Fudget from his father during the past few evenings when Ben had shared some of his adventures with them by the fire.

 

“Well, you will never have to worry about him anymore, Pa.  I guess you’ll never see him again ever.” and he smiled reassuringly as he closed the drawstrings of the canvas to make it secure for the day.

 

“I needed to make as much money as I could to buy land -” Ben paused and sighed, then he leaned forward and in a spontaneous motion of love he clasped the boys head and brought it toward him to plant a kiss upon the black curls.  “I missed you so much, son.”

 

It made Adam’s heart tremble when his father spoke like that for he knew how much Ben had suffered away from them.   He was so at one with his father that there was never any need for words between them.   They could sit in complete silence together and walk away feeling like they had just had the best conversation of their lives, it was then, and would always remain so.

 

Now the two boys sat either side of their father and clung to the edge of the seat as the bulky vehicle swayed its way along the ledges and narrow passages with the other wagon ahead of them showing the way.

 

Chad Ryan had never been seen or heard of from the time he left the Simon family all that time ago.   But with kind consideration for his friends he had left a recommendation with the Simons of a man who was willing to show them the way across the mountains, a man by the name of Phillip Elder who had been born in a trading post in 1806 and had been a close companion of Jim Bridger during youth.

 

In the mountains the air was thin and cold.  Mists strung across the valleys like threads of gossamer and seemed to wrap around their throats in a subtly sinister manner.  There were soon the inevitable coughs and colds among the travellers and it was not long before the weakest of them became victims of pneumonia and bronchitis.

 

Adam could remember trekking across the Missouri plains when it was hot and dry.  When they had to pause until the dust settled again because it would rise up like a cloud from the front wagons and mules, causing such a thick veil that they could not see their hands in front of their faces.  Now they were travelling through the extreme cold and he wondered if there would ever be warm sunshine upon his face ever again.

 

……………………

 

It was spring and below them they could see evidence of the season, poised as they were along the narrow tracks through the mountains.  They had been forced to stay stationary for two days after Mrs Curtis had given birth to her new son… Theo Thomas Curtis.   The lustiness of his bellowing evidence enough that this son was going to be every bit as vociferous as the first Thomas Curtis had been in the past.

 

The wind blew cold around them and Hoss was wrapped in a comforter to keep warm having developed a slight fever the previous day.   It was a miserable stop over for the little boy who had forgotten the rigours of a journey such as this and was too young to view anything as ‘an adventure’.  He clung to his brother for reassurance that all was well in this strange crazy world into which he had been plunged.

 

Ben Cartwright stood leaning with his back against the rock face.   The wind blew cold into his face and yet he remained as still and dark a shadow against the rocks as to have become a part of them.

 

He folded his arms across his chest and looked down from his vantage point to the land below.   In just two days time they would be there, trailing their way towards the settlement that was growing slowly now, but would one day be the site of one of history’s biggest gold rushes.  That was for the future, but for now Ben had his thoughts on other things, particularly on the day he got talking to an old Indian scout at the Fort.

 

“A nickel for them, Mr Cartwright?”

 

He pulled himself from his thoughts to turn to Philip Elder, whom he acknowledged with a nod of the head and a wry smile,

 

“I was just observing …”   he indicated with a nod of the head the destination the wagon train was soon to reach, “It’s been a long time since I started my journey and now that I’m here – nearly here – I can scarce believe it.”

 

“I think several here feel the same way,” Philip Elder replied, leaning heavily upon his rifle, the stock of which was planted firmly on the ground. “I know you’ve had your share of troubles, Mr Cartwright, and sorry I am for them but don’t fool yourself into thinking life down there is going to be any easier.   There’s a lot of danger to be faced in taking up this new life of yours.”

 

“I’m no stranger to that,” Ben said quietly.   For a moment he relapsed into silence before he said quite firmly “But I don’t intend to settle there, Mr Elder.”

 

“You aren’t?” Philip expressed shock and his rounded eyes turned to Ben anxiously, “Where, then, do you intend to settle?”

 

“There’s a small settlement called Eagle Station about 200 plus miles from there.  It’s still in Utah territory so I’ll be back tracking on myself a little way.   I’m heading there after I’ve got all I need for provisions and the necessities I‘ll require to clear the land and build a home for myself and my boys.”

 

“But -” Philip shook his head, “Why there?   San Francisco is young, still very primitive, it needs men with your drive, your resolution.  Isn’t it what you were aiming for all these years?”

 

“I can’t explain to you what it is that I was aiming for, Mr Elder.   I was chasing a dream, pursuing a promise …” his deep voice deepened, softened, trailed away.

 

“Eagle Station has even less to offer you than San Francisco.  It’s merely a ranch with a few cabins, if that even.”

 

“I know.  I was talking to an old Indian scout some months back while I was serving at the Fort.  He told me about the land there on the Washoe.  There’s a lake, mountains, rich forestry.   I decided then that that was where I would prefer to go with my sons.”

 

“I have heard of it.” Philip Elder nodded, “The occasional report trickles back to us from various settlers and prospectors there.  I heard -” he lowered his voice although the wind was blowing his words away from the wagons so there was little danger of his being overheard, “that they have found traces of gold and silver there.”

 

“I heard the same.” Ben nodded, “But whether or not that is true, it still holds out more for us that anywhere else I know.”

 

“I wish you all success then, Ben Cartwright,” Philip Elder put out his hand, a broad rough hand and took that of the other man, shaking it warmly. “It won’t be easy.”

 

“Life never is easy, Philip.  A man is a fool to expect that it would be.” and his handsome mouth parted into a slow smile.

 

………………………….

 

William A. Richardson, an Englishman who had taken Mexican citizenship, had one day erected a canvas tent stretched between pine posts and began to trade wheat and tallow between the ships that came into the port and the local Indians.   It stood there until he built the adobe ‘Casa Grande’ (later to become the Adelphi Theatre) on what he named as Dupont Street.

 

When Ben Cartwright’s wagon followed the tracks of the others ahead of him into what was to become known as San Francisco, there were fewer than 500 souls living in the small township.   The rudimentary beginnings of its future as one of the foremost commercial cities of the world was already taking shape.   Ben Cartwright cast a discerning eye on the place and knew that he was right to travel into Utah territory and towards Eagle Station.

 

“Are we staying here, Pa?” Adam asked as he clambered down from the wagon and stood on the dry soil of the main street.

 

“Only long enough to get another wagon and load up with what we shall need.” Ben replied as he lifted Hoss from the wagon seat and set him down beside his brother.

 

“If’n you get another wagon, who’s going to drive it?” Adam replied with round eyes and a whimsical grin, which made Ben laugh and ruffle the dark curls.

 

“I’ll have to hire a man for the job.” Ben chuckled and then, with a sigh, put his hands on his hips and looked around him, “Best thing is to find the General Store, if there is one.”

 

Hoss grabbed at Adam’s hand and together they followed their father.   Philip Elder came towards them and paused a while to talk to Ben.  He was an easy going man, and a friend of many who would one day carve their names in history.  Ben’s face relaxed into a smile and then the two men shook hands before parting.

 

“We have a wagon and horses.” Ben told Adam, “Mr Elder has struck a deal for us with Mr and Mrs Jackson.  Once they have relocated they are going to hand over the wagon and trappings to us.”

 

Adam nodded and gripped Hoss’ hand tighter.  There were so many different people here in this new settlement, a confusion of different languages, and a profusion of rough shanty buildings consisting of canvas tents and rough stone adobe cabins.  Indians sauntered as though bemused among the riff raff of settlers, they stopped to stare and comment together at the string of wagons that had now disgorged their occupants.   Adam wondered if they were planning when to attack and kill them all.

 

There were several buildings allocated for stores of various kinds and here Ben took his sons.   The ships that plied their trade to this port proved the point Ben had earlier made to Philip; it was a lucrative and sound commercial location.  Ships from France and Spain, Russia and England sailed into the port to do trade, and as a result the stores were full of all their requirements.

 

“I ain’t seen no critters yet.” Hoss hissed in his brother’s ear as their father paid for the groceries he had selected for them.

 

“You will do, Hoss.”  Adam assured him and squeezed his hand.

 

“I ain’t even seen a dawg!” Hoss pouted.

 

“I guess they’re somewhere hereabouts.”  Adam’s eyes trailed away to look longingly at the shelves of books close by them, “Look at these books.  I ain’t never seen so many!” he whispered.

 

“I ain’t interested in no books, dad burn it.” Hoss grumbled and pulled his hand away from that of his brother.

 

Adam gave a slight shrug.   He was confident that his brother would go no further than their father’s side and so began to look at the titles of the books.  His finger caressed the golden lettering of one book, the soft leather binding of another.  How he longed to take just one down to read it and he sighed heavily.

 

Hoss was so annoyed.  Cooped up in a stuffy wagon for days on end.  Freezing cold one minute and too hot another.  The only animals he had seen were the horses, mules and oxen of the wagon train.  There had been a cat at the beginning of the journey but it had got trampled on by one of the oxen.   He humphhed and folded his arms across his chest, the very picture of a very disgruntled child.

 

He was standing outside the store now, and feeling incredibly bold.   He saw a familiar face across the street, Fred Curtis no less, and he waved to him.  Fred came bowling over with his hands in his pockets,

 

“Where’s yer Pa?”

 

“Inside thar,” Hoss jerked his thumb in the direction of the store.

 

“What yer doin’ out here then?”

 

“Jest looking’.”

 

“What fer?”

 

“Some critters.” Hoss wrinkled his nose and tried to convey his disgust at the lack of ‘critters’ so far.  Fred shrugged

 

“Saw some dogs over there.” he pointed along the street and then bade the boy goodbye before leaving Hoss alone.

 

In the store Ben was engrossed in deep conversation with the trader and Adam had taken a book from the shelf and was engrossed in reading …  ‘My raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable weight.   My next care was what to load it with and how to preserve what I laid upon it from the surf of the sea …”  oh Robinson Crusoe what an adventure … his eyes glanced down a little further “I first got three of the seamen’s chests, which I had broken open and emptied, and lowered them down upon my raft …”

 

“Adam !”

 

His name being called summoned him from his reading.  He tore himself away from the mental picture of the wretched man, the waves pounding the shore, the raft waiting to be loaded . He turned his eyes upwards to his father,

 

“Where is Hoss?”

 

“He’s -” Adam opened and closed his mouth, glanced about him, blinked. “I thought he went to be with you.”

 

“You left him alone?”

 

“No.” Adam shook his head, true but not strictly so, the matter had to be clarified, “He let go my hand and went over to be with you.”

 

“You should not have let him go.” Ben’s lips thinned and he straightened himself up to look anxiously about him but of his golden haired little boy there was no sign.

 

He hurried out of the store with Adam close behind him, but still there was no sign of Hoss Cartwright.   Adam saw several men from the wagon train and ran to them,

 

“Have you seen Hoss?” he begged but the answer was in the negative, a shake of the head, shrugged shoulders and the men walked on.

 

………………….

 

The dogs looked at Hoss and Hoss looked at the dogs.  There were three of them.  One was tired and bored, and after staring at Hoss for a matter of seconds, yawned mightily and flopped down upon its belly, rested its head upon his forepaws and went to sleep.   The other two strained at their leashes to be free.  Hoss gloried in the touch of a wet pink tongue upon his hand,

 

“Good little dog,” he whispered to the black and white dog who seemed to agree with him for he gave a sharp little bark.

 

The other dog came forward and pushed his nose into Hoss’ face, a pink tongue flicked out and licked the boys sticky rosy cheek,

 

“Good boy, good dog.” Hoss cried and clapped his hands in delight.  The dogs began to bark and jump up and down, “Good dogs.” Hoss laughed and reached out a hand to stroke their heads.

 

“Leave them brutes be …” a coarse voice yelled at him and something hard and heavy was flung at him, landing with a thud beside the sleeping dog.

 

Hoss immediately scrambled to his feet and took flight, the dogs barking and yipping behind him.   He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him before realising that he was lost.

 

He stood alone.  No one was near by.  Above him the clouds scudded across a denim blue sky, and the sun shone down relentlessly.  It was not yet too hot, for the spring was a pleasant season in that locale, but for Hoss, having done so much running and now so frightened at finding himself so alone, it seemed as though he was being scorched through.

 

He turned to the left, to the right.  He looked behind him and then to the front of him.  He found himself looking at a black tunic with shining buttons.  His eyes travelled up and fastened onto the round face of a man with very black eyes, a wide smile, and a gentle expression on his face.

 

“Boy lost?”

 

Hoss nodded.  The Chinese man nodded in return.

 

“Boy hungry?”

 

Hoss nodded again and the Chinese man smiled more broadly.

 

“Boy follow Hop Sing.”

 

Boy did so.  He followed behind this man with the black tunic and soft shoes, with the long plait that bounced down his back, with the hands tucked into the sleeves of his loose tunic top.   He followed until Hop Sing came to a small canvas covered dwelling, he pulled aside the flap of canvas that made up the doorway,

 

“Please, boy enter.”

 

Hoss did so and sat down on the cushions that were carefully placed upon the ground.  There were strange and wonderful smells coming from several small pots that were cooking on a makeshift grid over a fire.   He watched Hop Sing avidly as the Chinese began to take off lids and ladle out food into a dish which he offered to his guest.  Hoss accepted the dish with alacrity.  He sniffed it and then looked up at Hop Sing with a wide smile, all fear gone, all thought of his anxious father and brother disappeared.   Here was food, not just any old food, but the best he had ever tasted.

 

……………….

 

Hop Sing watched the boy eat.  There was something about the child that touched the gentle heart of the man and he began to wonder from where he had come, and what was to be done with him.   He took a little food himself, while his eyes watched the boy thoughtfully.

 

Hoss eventually realised there was only so much room to accommodate all the food in his small stomach.   He burped, smacked his lips together and sighed contentedly.

 

“You like the food?” Hop Sing asked eagerly.

 

“Yes.  I did.”  Hoss replied and then yawned, “Can I go back to my Pa now, mister?”

 

“We go find Father of small boy.” Hop Sing nodded his head sagely.  He got to his feet and carefully extinguished the flames upon which the food had been cooked.  “You show me where Father to be found now.” he smiled at Hoss and opened the flap wide for the boy to step outside.

 

Once he was out of the little makeshift cabin Hoss looked around him in a confused and bewildered manner.  Nothing looked quite as he remembered it at all.  He would have cried had Hop Sing not been close beside him and placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

 

“I can’t remember where my Pa is.” Hoss said in a whisper of a voice so that Hop Sing had to lean down to catch the words.

 

“We go to place where Father may be found.”  Came the calm response, “Father no doubt looks for lost boy.  We look for anxious Father.  We soon find where boy should be again.”

 

Hoss nodded without too much confidence.   Together they retraced their steps, past the dogs and their surly owner, back into the centre of the settlement.  Hoss blinked and tears attached themselves to the stumpy blond lashes from the blue eyes that seemed unable to locate his Pa.   He stood still and gazed about him, wiped his nose on his sleeve several times, before starting to blubber.

 

“Boy not cry.” Hop Sing cried in the gentlest tone of voice and he knelt down on one knee so that he could look into the boys face, “We look for Father, together.  We soon find.”

 

Hoss slipped his hand into that of his newfound friend.   Something in Hop Sing’s heart tumbled over a little as he remembered a time in his own past, in his own country, when another little boy had slipped his hand into his … he drew in his breath sharply and the grip on Hoss’ hand tightened.

 

“Come.” Hop Sing said resolutely, “We find Father.”

 

………………….

 

Panic had reached the stage in Adam Cartwright where the legs seem like jelly, and the stomach churns over and over in a sickening cycle of pain and nausea.   He knew only too well that there would be an accounting for his neglect of his younger brother, and there was no possibility of escaping his punishment by claiming that he’d assumed Hoss was going to stand with Ben.    It had been his task and his responsibility to care for his younger brother and if Hoss wasn’t found soon – well – Adam felt a shiver trickle down his back, life wouldn’t be worth living.

 

He had paused outside the hardware store to catch his breath when he saw the man and boy on the opposite side of the street.   For a moment he could barely believe his eyes but then with a cry of delight and relief he realised that the boy really was Hoss and that they were walking in the direction of their wagon.   He ran, sprinted, across the road and along the sidewalk to catch up with them

 

“Hoss.  Hoss.” he cried breathlessly, “Wait for me, Hoss.”

 

Hoss tugged at Hop Sing’s hand and brought their preamble to a halt.  He turned and with a sweet smile watched as Adam ran towards them, pausing once to pick up his hat which had fallen off.

 

“Hoss, where’ve you been?   Pa’s gonna tan my hide for good -.” he stopped to draw breath and then realised Hoss was not alone, as the gentleman standing by the boy had not moved from his side, “I’m his brother.” he explained, blinking rapidly and brushing aside the dark hair that had fallen across his eyes.

 

Hop Sing bowed and smiled, his eyes resting kindly upon Adam’s flushed face.

 

“Boy very tired.  He eat well but needed father.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course.  Come on, Hoss, I’ll take you to Pa.”  Adam grabbed at his brother’s hand and then smiled briefly at Hop Sing, “Thank you very much for looking after him.”

 

“You are welcome.” Hop Sing bowed politely once again and then turned to Hoss  “Thank you for coming to humble abode.” he said and stepped back.

 

The two boys turned and hurried towards the wagon where they stood by the horses’ heads to await the return of their father.   From his location on the side walk Hop Sing waited also, his eyes not straying from them for a moment.   It was some minutes before Ben came hurrying towards them, his face stern and his lips grim.  He said nothing for a moment or two, merely picked Hoss up and lifted him upon the wagon seat.

 

“Where did you go?  Haven’t you been told often enough not to wander off, Hoss?  You could have been hurt.”

 

“I had something to eat.” Hoss replied merrily, “Nice things.”

 

“With what?  You didn’t have any money to buy things to eat.  Adam, get here and make sure he doesn’t wander off again.” Ben turned to his eldest son and roughly took his arm to pull him to the wagon.

 

“Man gave me something to eat.  In his place.” Hoss sighed contentedly.

 

“Man?  What man?” Ben growled.

 

“That man – over there.” Hoss replied and pointed to where Hop Sing was standing, still watching them with a slight smile on his face.

 

Something about the way the man stood looking over at them calmed down the anger that had come as a result of the anxiety and worry over the loss of his son.  Ben inhaled sharply and strode over to Hop Sing who bowed slightly at the other mans approach

 

“Thank you for bringing my son back safely,” he mumbled and held out his hand “I was worried about him.  It’s not like Hoss to wander off in a strange place.”

 

“I understand.” Hop Sing nodded, “But little boys like little dogs are not predictable.” and he bowed slightly once again.

 

Ben opened his mouth to speak when he noticed Philip Elder striding towards him, and after a wry grimace at Hop Sing he turned to give the other man his attention.

 

“Ben, the other wagon is just over by the General Store.  Jackson’s agreed the price you’re willing to pay him for it.”  he smiled, “Now all you need is a driver.”

 

Ben scratched his chin thoughtfully and nodded,

 

“I don’t suppose you’d want to come along for the ride, would you?”

 

“I can’t.” Philip shrugged, “I need to get back to the Fort.  They’ll miss you there, Ben, you helped them out of some dangerous situations.”

 

“Well, it’s best to get priorities in order.  I need to get my boys a home they can call their own now.”

 

They began to walk back to wagon where Hoss and Adam sat closely together, so close that their hips touched.   Hoss was sucking his thumb which he did when feeling anxious or tired.  His blue eyes were fixed upon the Chinese man who was standing on the sidewalk looking deep in thought as he watched the two men walk away from him.

 

As Ben drew level with his wagon he looked at the two boys sternly,

 

“I don’t want either of you to stir from here, do you understand?” he raised his finger as though emphasising the fact and both boys nodded dutifully.

 

Together they walked further along the road until they reached the wagon where Jackson paced the ground waiting their arrival.   The men shook hands warmly, over the weeks of travel they had formed some bonds of kinship after all, and now that there was business to be seen to between them it was good to be reminded of that

 

“Sorry to hear you ain’t staying round here, Ben.” Jackson said with a slight frown, “Could do with knowing you were a neighbour of our’n.”

 

“I thought I’d go back into Utah territory, Howard.   There’s a small place been built on the Washoe.  Heard it was good country, plenty of timber and good grazing for cattle.”

 

“Wal, perhaps in a whiles time I may come a-visiting and if’n I likes the look of it mayhap I’ll stay there too.”   Howard Jackson smiled, scratched his chin through the stubble of his beard.

 

Ben produced from his pocket a small leather pouch and from this shook out the amount of money agreed upon between Howard and Philip.   Money was exchanged and hands shaken.   After some little conversation between the three of them the men parted company, with Ben left to look over his purchase more closely.

 

Hop Sing meanwhile had stationed himself near the wagon where Adam and Hoss were seated.  He said nothing but had stood with his back against the wall of the building near which the Cartwright’s wagon was parked.    When Ben returned with his head down, and his eyes dark with various concerns that he was mulling over and over in his mind, he collided with the other man who immediately stepped back.

 

“You need driver for wagon?”

 

“What?” Ben looked startled and stared somewhat at Hop Sing who smiled, bowed and nodded politely as though he had expected no other reply than the one he had received,

 

“Driver for wagon?  You need help?  I – Hop Sing – very good driver of wagons.  Also very good cook.”

 

“I don’t need a cook.” Ben replied bluntly, stuffing the leather pouch of money back into his pocket and wondering if the other fellow was a thief who, upon noticing the money, had intentions of stealing it from him.

 

“May be not now, but later.   You travel far.  Build house.  Who look after boy?  Who cook?”  Hop Sing raised his eyebrows and gave a wide smile as though the answer was obvious – it only needed Ben to see it for himself.

 

Ben took off his hat and wiped his brow on the back of his sleeve, then looked at his two boys, and then again at Hop Sing.  Hoss was nearly asleep, his head resting upon his brother’s shoulder, and Adam was watching and listening intently to the conversation between the two men.

 

“What’s your name?” he asked abruptly, as though the decision was still in abeyance and he was asking merely out of interest.

 

“Hop Sing.  I come to here with cousin who do laundry.  I not do laundry.  I cook.  Clean maybe.  Help build house if need to do so.”

 

Ben knit his dark brows together and lowered his head to hide a smile,

 

“It’s rough country where we’re going.  Indians.  Wild animals.” he muttered as though he and his boys, one of them barely 3 years old, could handle all those things with their hands tied behind their back, but it was probably beyond the abilities for anyone else to do so.

 

“Yes.  Hop Sing know all about Indians and wild animals.” the other man nodded sagely.

 

“You’re not running away from anything, are you?”

 

Hop Sing shook his head.   He looked around him at the people passing by and then looked Ben straight in the face,

 

“Hop Sing no more run away from anything than anyone else here.  Come from China by boat, come into harbour here, work with cousin and family in laundry.  Not work for Hop Sing.  Hop Sing would like to go to where there are Indians, wild animals and little boy to look after.”  he smiled his ingenuous smile and the dark eyes softened in his round face.

 

“Very well then, Hop Sing.  I’m Ben Cartwright, my sons, Adam and Hoss.   Be here tomorrow morning early with your belongings.”

 

Hop Sing bowed lower than he had done at any other time, he murmured thank you softly and then turned to go back to his retreat and to contemplate his future with the Cartwrights.

 

“Is he going to be our driver, Pa?” Adam asked as he moved to make room for Ben on the hard wooden seat.

 

“Seems like he’s pretty determined to be, Adam.  But, as they say in the army, one volunteer is worth more than ten pressed men.”

 

Adam nodded and kept his mouth shut.   He’d puzzle over that for a while until it made some semblance of sense to him.

 

…………………

 

He was waiting for them with his hands hidden in the folds of his sleeves, and his baggage by his feet on the planked sidewalk.   His face was impassive although the eyes gleamed and twinkled when he saw them approach in their wagon.

 

Ben clambered down from the seat and approached him,

 

“I didn’t ask you about terms and conditions to payment,” he said in his rather brusque manner, “How much do you want?”

 

Hop Sing shook his head

 

“We talk about such matters another time.” he said in such a tone of voice that Ben had to accept the subject closed.

 

The two men looked at one another as though they were two antagonists in a boxing ring, each getting the measure of the other.  Ben’s face relaxed into a smile and he extended his hand once again,

 

“Very well, Hop Sing.  For better or worse then?”

 

Hop Sing nodded slowly and took the proffered hand which he shook gravely.   It was the perfect arrangement, one which neither man was ever to regret making with the other.

 

He  took his seat and picked up the reins and smiled at the boy seated at his side, Hoss smiled back, perfectly happy to be the one selected to sit with Hop Sing that morning.

 

They left the settlement and began their journey on to Eagle Station which was then in the territory of Utah.   Never could Ben have imagined what the journey’s end would bring them in the years ahead.   Never could Hop Sing have realised that the time he took those reins in his hands he would become such an integral part of the Cartwright’s lives.   They rode out of the settlement and into the unknown, each of them seeking something that neither of them could put into words, but which both would find in the times ahead.

 

A matter of months later they cut down the first tree on the land that was to become known to all in the territory as The Ponderosa.   For Ben Cartwright it was Journeys End at last.   For Adam and Hoss Cartwright it was – home.

 

The End