Summary:  Hoss rides up to Ima Hogg’s goat farm to deliver a message and barely escapes an unwanted marriage.

Rating:  K+/G    Word Count:  2,148

 

Love Hurts

The last thing Hoss remembered before the frying pan whacked him on the back of his head was finishing the best piece of pie he had ever eaten.  Now he was laid out on a bed in a dark room with a pounding headache.  He tried to reach up to feel what was most likely a first-rate lump on the back of his head but found his hands tied to the bedposts.

His head fuzzy and his vision blurry, he looked around the unfamiliar surroundings and tried to make sense of where he was.  Urging himself to stay calm and think clearly, he began to remember bits and pieces – and then it came to him.  Pa had sent him out to Ima’s goat farm to kick her ample backside off Ponderosa property.  One minute he was eating a delectable slice of apple pie and now he was tied to the bed like the Lilliputians tied up Gulliver.

Ima lived alone on a small plot of land adjacent to the Ponderosa.  Alone, that is, if you don’t count the 6 dozen reeking goats that lived on her broken-down ranch.  Anyone traveling within a half a mile of the spread would know they were getting close by the foul odor lingering in the air like the stench of imminent doom.

She had taken advantage of Ben Cartwright’s good nature and allowed her goats to graze in one of his best pastures.  Upon his last inspection of the property, the goats had all but decimated the grass and foliage.  It would be a year before the land would recover enough for him to graze his beef there – a delay he could not afford.  He rode over to the ranch house to confront Ima and evict her stinking herd from his land, but he had no luck finding her.  The sneaky spinster most likely saw him coming and was hiding somewhere.

That night, when the Cartwright family gathered at the table for dinner, none of the boys spoke a word.  One look at their father’s face and they knew he was in a black mood.  Over the years, the brothers had learned when their father wore that particular glowering expression it was best to remain silent and try to avoid the misplaced outburst that was sure to follow.

Mumbling under his breath, Ben punctuated his incoherent tirade by slamming a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate.  Hoss and Little Joe exchanged a sideways glance that only brothers could interpret without words.  Their gaze then shifted to Adam.  A fork in his hand and his mouth slightly ajar, Adam watched his father’s agitated behavior through raised eyebrows.  The master of timing, he waited until his father shoved a forkful of dinner in his mouth, then dared to ask in his calmest voice what the hell had happened.

As Ben retold the story of Ima and her goats, Joe and Hoss snickered. Both instantly regretted it when their father turned to glare at them.  To drive home the point that the situation was anything but funny, Ben ordered Hoss out to Ima’s ranch first thing in the morning to clear those goats off his land by any means necessary.  Swallowing hard, Hoss carefully protested his assignment, suggesting Adam might be a better, more diplomatic choice.   After all, Adam was the one with the fancy Eastern education.  It was high time Pa took advantage of his investment in his oldest son and let the eloquent, silver tongued master of the English language convince Ima to move the herd.  But Adam steadfastly refused.  He was downright terrified to be alone with Ima.

Every man in the area knew about Ima.  She didn’t venture into town often, but when she did the men scattered like tumbleweeds in the wind. Ima wanted a husband and had no qualms about making it known – even placing an advertisement in the local newspaper.  She had one or two suitors who came calling but didn’t stay long.  A man might be able to overlook her generous girth, rude demeanor, or lack of manners, but no man – no matter how hard he tried – could ignore the pungent odor of goats that trailed behind her where ever she went like smoke from a chimney.

Growing frustrated with her inability to find a suitable spouse, Ima vowed to marry the next eligible man who stepped foot on her ranch.  When Hoss rode in, she sized him up and decided he would be a most excellent husband, judging by his size and love of a good meal.  Whispering a silent prayer of thanks to the Almighty for sending her the perfect man, she politely invited him into her house, sat him at her table, and served him a delicious lunch of stew and biscuits and freshly baked apple pie. Hoss happily took the bait, raving to Ima how wonderful her lunch was while explaining the purpose of his visit.

Ima nervously fidgeted in the kitchen while Hoss ate.  When he had finished his pie, she came up on him from behind, pulled her skillet from behind her skirts, and whacked her future husband on the head with a distinctive twang.  Hoss sat for a second or two as if nothing had happened, then fell face first into his empty plate.

Ima hooked him under his arms, dragged him to the bedroom, and tied him to the bed.  Never mind that Hoss was a large man – Ima outweighed and outmuscled him.  She easily picked him up and laid him on the bed, checking his head to make sure she hadn’t done any serious damage.  She securely tied his hands and feet to the bed posts and stood back to admire her work.  Now that she had her man, she would proceed to the next part of her plot – the part she had neglected to plan for.

Not having considered what to do if she ever did catch a man, Ima sat dejectedly at the kitchen table.  Now what?  Hoss was a formidable man.  How was she going to keep him here against his will?  She certainly couldn’t keep him tied to the bed forever.  And what about marriage?  How was she going to convince Hoss to say ‘I do’?  Scratching her head, Ima went over scenario after scenario.  The realization of her predicament sinking in, she put her head down and bumped her forehead on the tabletop over and over, muttering ‘stupid, stupid, stupid’.

In the other room, Hoss managed to loosen the ropes and worked out the last of the knots holding him to the bed.  Tossing the ropes aside, he silently stood and opened the door a crack.  In the lamplight, he could see Ima sitting at the table.  The sight of his gun belt hanging on a peg near the door and Ima’s rifle leaning against the table convinced him to close the door and remain silent while trying to come up with an escape plan.  Why hadn’t he listened to Adam?  He warned him not to go out to her ranch alone and, as usual, he was right.

Ima wiped her nose on her sleeve and let out a large, surrendering sigh.  Conceding defeat, she rose from the table and opened the door to the bedroom, intending to set her captive free.  As the door swung open, she glanced over and saw the empty bed and loose ropes, but no husband.  Before she could turn around, Hoss jumped out from behind the door and attempted to subdue her by grabbing her in a big bear hug and lifting her off the floor.  Now, Hoss was a strong man – to the point of being legendary around Virginia City.  He had hoisted any number of heavy objects, bent horseshoes with his bare hands, and lifted cows clean off the ground. But nothing could have prepared him for the tussle that was about to ensue.  Unable to get his arms all the way around her, Hoss and Ima struggled until she finally gave up and plopped her behemoth buttocks down in a chair.

Exhausted from the struggle, Hoss grabbed her rifle and gathered his gun belt.  Backing his way towards the door, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his beloved Chub tied to the hitching post, saddled and ready to run.  Warning her not to move, he backed through the door, turned around, and ran like a maniac to Chub.  As he galloped away from the matrimonially crazed Ima, he turned around and saw her standing in the doorway to the house, simultaneously crying and waving.

A mile or so down the road, when he was certain that Ima was not following, Hoss stopped.  Dab-burn it!  He couldn’t go home yet.  His father was waiting for him, expecting Hoss to move the herd and admonished Ima not to graze her goats on Ponderosa land ever again.  Sure, Ima was a crazy, immense, seeking woman who had almost trapped him into an unwanted marriage.  But a frying pan to the head would pale in comparison to what his father would do if he returned home without moving that herd.  Pa would be beyond angry – kidnapping or no kidnapping. A desperate feeling came over him when he realized he was going to have to turn around and go back.   He double checked his gun to make sure it was loaded, just in case, and headed back towards Ima’s ranch.

He hurriedly rode up to the pasture, herded the goats together, and drove them down the hill to Ima’s ranch.  When he rode into her yard, she was standing on the porch, overjoyed at his return.

“Hoss!  You came back to me!”

“No!  No!  No!  Miss Ima, you keep your distance now!  I’m just here to bring yer goats.  Now, I told you once Pa won’t stand for any more of them grazin’ on Ponderosa land.  If we find them up there again, we’ll be back, and we’re not gonna be nice about it!  You mind what I say now, ya hear?”

Ima jumped off the porch and started running towards Hoss with her arms outstretched.  His eyes popping out of his head, a panicked Hoss pointed Chub towards home and rode out in a gallop as fast as Chub could run, glancing over his shoulder to see if she was coming after him.  From behind him, he heard Ima shouting.

“Hoss Cartwright!  Don’t you run away!  We make a beautiful couple – you and me!  I can bake you a pie whenever you want one!  Don’t go, Hoss.  Hoss!”  She yelled as loud as she could, but it was no use.  Hoss was gone.

When he was convinced he was not being followed, Hoss slowed to a trot and stopped his horse.  He took off his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, shuttering at the memory of what just happened.  He was sure no one at home would believe him when he told them what happened, but he didn’t care.  Like Adam, he would NEVER be alone with Ima again.

Ima stood in the yard watching as Hoss rode away, a symphony of bleating goats in the background. “Go ahead, Hoss Cartwright,” she whispered to herself while smoothing down her wild hair.   “You run on home to your daddy.  You’ll be back.  You know it and I know it.  We belong together.  I swear I’m not gonna rest till you’re my husband.”

She sat down on the steps to the house, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.  Deep down she knew Hoss would never come back.  At best, she’d be lucky if he didn’t report her to the sheriff.  Where did it all go wrong?  She had him right where she wanted him, and then it all fell apart.  If only she had just one more chance. . .

Down the road, she saw dust from wagon wheels heading her direction.   Could it be him?  As it got closer, she sadly realized it was not Hoss – it was Zeke from the mercantile, delivering the supplies she had ordered in town a few days ago.  She let out a disappointed sigh and stood to greet him.

“Mornin’ Miss Hogg.  Got your supplies here.  Do you want me to bring ‘em into the house?”

“Oh, yes please, Mr. Waddell.  That would be most kind of you!”  Zeke grabbed some crates from the back of the wagon and carried them into the house, with Ima following close behind.

Placing the crates on the counter, Zeke sniffed at the air.  “Hey!  Is that apple pie I smell?”

Ima smiled a crafty smile.  “Why, yes it is, Mr. Waddell” she said, slyly picking up her skillet and hiding it in her skirts.  “Now, you sit down right here and I’ll get you a nice, big slice of pie.”

Twang!

 

 

Tags:  Hoss Cartwright