Chapter 3

Discoveries

Adam Cartwright stretched his long legs and shifted awkwardly in the blue chair in a futile attempt to work out the kinks in his back. It was no use. A long day in the saddle riding fences had taken its toll on him. And there would be another long ride tomorrow up to the lumber camp. He tried to hide an involuntary groan from his brothers, who, without any question, would start to tease him mercilessly about being the ‘oldest and therefore oh so rickety Cartwright offspring’ if they were to notice his distress. But Hoss and Joe were engrossed in a game of checkers and unaware of anything going on around them. Adam shifted once again, picked the Territorial Enterprise Joe had dropped there earlier from the coffee table, and gratefully accepted a tumbler of brandy from his father. He settled more comfortably in his chair and began to scan the narrowly printed pages. He skimmed over the usual gossip, over some poorly written pieces about mining issues and an obnoxious article about a hanging in Salt Flats two weeks ago. He got caught at the local news section.

“There was another burglary. At the Johnson’s farm,” he said to nobody in particular. “Old man Johnson was injured.” He shook his head in disgust. “This was the fourth raid in less than three weeks.”

Ben looked up at him. “Do they say who did it?”

“No,” Adam replied. “Obviously Roy still has no idea who they are.”

“It’s time he was doing something, though. He can’t let them go on like this. No one is safe as long as those villains prowl around Virginia City.” Ben forcefully set his tumbler on the coffee table. “Johnson was injured. How long will it take until someone will be killed?”

Joe, who was losing the current game against his brother, thankfully welcomed the distraction and looked up from the checker board. “No, they ain’t killers. They’re only stealing.” The moment the words left his mouth, Joe knew he had made a bad, bad mistake. And, predictably, his father’s head jerked up.

“Only stealing, Joseph?” Ben turned around to stare at Joe, not believing he heard what he just heard and thundered, “Only stealing?”

Joe cringed. On second thought losing the game to Hoss would have been a far better choice than to join into the conversation.

“You know better than to speak so thoughtlessly,” Ben berated his miserable youngest son. “I didn’t raise you to consider theft and burglary as a peccadillo!”

“Pa,” Hoss barged in. “He didn’t mean it that way.”

Ben fixed him with a furious glance. “So then, tell me, Eric, in what way did this flippant brother of yours mean his inconsiderate comment?”

Now Hoss winced. All he wanted was peace and quiet and to win a single game of checkers against his ever-chiseling little brother for the first time in weeks. He had come so close to his goal now, but to no avail–little brother had to ruin it all. “Pa, he jest said, he’s happy nobody ain’t got killed. Those robbers sure had a chance ta do that, but they ain’t done it,” he tried. “They took things, not lives.”

Ben gave his younger sons a stern gaze. “I will not tolerate this kind of talk in my house. These people who were robbed worked hard for their money, and the things they bought with that money were precious to them. The simple ‘things’ of utility those burglars stole might have been possessions of great value to the farmers,” he lectured.

There was only one way out. “Sorry, Pa,” Joe and Hoss muttered simultaneously.

“Yes, ‘sorry, Pa’,” Ben snarled. “You better be!”

At that Adam decided to intervene. There was only one thing you could do to calm the waves: quick distraction. “Uh, Pa, do you have anything particular you want me talk to Parker about at the camp?” he offered.

Joe and Hoss shot him a thankful glance. Very quietly they returned to their game. Better to keep a low profile for a while.

“Well, we already talked about that, Adam. You speak to Parker about the new contract and ride out with him to choose the best timber for this purpose,” Ben said, irritated. “You surely didn’t forget that, son?”

“No,” Adam replied. “No, I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything else. I don’t want to have to make the ride twice just because we forgot to think about something.” It was lame at best and Adam knew it. He was sure his father smelled the rat. But for once Pa let it go. Perhaps he was seeking some quiet, too.

“Just make sure Parker’s men get the timber ready in time,” Ben told him. “And see to it that they cut down the right trees.”

“They will, Pa. Parker is a good man. He knows his job.”

“Hmph.” Ben nodded in consent. “How long do you plan to stay there, anyway?”

“One or two days. Three at the most. But I want to go to Carson on the way back. I want to see Bob Hanson about the contract one more time.” Adam held his palms out to his father in a calming gesture. “Nothing to be concerned about, Pa. I just want to clarify one or two minor details. It won’t take me long. I’ll be back on Sunday at the latest.”

“Alright, son, take your time. And watch out for these brigands, Adam. I don’t have a very good feeling about you riding out there alone.” Ben reached over and squeezed Adam’s shoulder affectionately.

“Pa, these men raid ranches, not riders. And they roam the Virginia City district, not Carson. I’ll be fine!” Adam had a hard time to hide his impatience but he managed a reassuring smile at his father.

“Just—watch out, son.”

“I’ll be fine,” Adam repeated with forced calm. However the scowl he gave his father made it quite clear that Adam considered the subject closed. Ben accepted that, albeit reluctantly, with only so much as a muttered “if you say so” and a scowl of his own for his rebellious first born.

Now that things were settled, Adam went back to his read. Reaching the last page he started to laugh silently. “Yeah, that’s just the way it is. You got that one right, fella,” he muttered to himself. He held the newspaper askew to the lamp to have better light. While reading, he nodded in approval a few times, until suddenly he burst out, “And amen to that. Amen!”

“What is it, Adam?” his father asked. Even Hoss and Joe gazed at him expectantly. Adam normally despised the local newspaper and his agitation, when yet condescending himself to read the Territorial Enterprise, usually sported a completely different quality.

“It’s this article; it’s brilliant. Listen.” Adam cleared his throat and read out loud, “As our President, the great Abraham Lincoln, stated in 1859 ‘the negro is included in the word men used in the Declaration of Independence’. And I would like to encourage my readers to believe along with Mr. Lincoln that ‘the declaration that “all men are created equal” is the great fundamental principle upon which our free institutions rest (and) that negro slavery is violative of that principle’. Now there is the popular thesis that slaves were far better off than one might think, well cared for and protected from everything evil by their owners. One who dedicates himself to this point might also add that slavery has made the South rich, herewith contributed to the welfare of the United States of America and should be considered as a gentlemanly and fine way of living. Well, this is unless you are a slave yourself, of course. But then there are those who reason you can’t tell what slaves feel if you haven’t lived a slave’s life for yourself. I strongly advise you against trying this out. It would affect your life in a very unpleasant way. And we wouldn’t want you to feel treated disgracefully or as a subhuman, right?”

While Hoss gaped at him open mouthed and Joe merely looked puzzled, Ben considered the things he had heard with a frown. His face relaxed when he started to speak.
“He made a strong statement here.” He leaned forward resting his forearms on the table and nodded emphatically. “Very courageous. And very true, too.”
Hoss squinted his face at Adam. “It’s meant serious-like, yeah? When it is serious, why don’t it sound serious?”
Adam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He studied Hoss for a moment and smiled, merely to himself. “Because, Hoss,” he said with a small chuckle. “Because bitter medicine is tolerated best with sugar.”
“Iffen ya say so.”
“This doesn’t sound like the Enterprise’s usual scribble, Adam. Who wrote that?” Ben inquired.

“A ‘J. Heatherstone’. Looks like Goodman finally found himself a worthy successor to Sam Clemens,” Adam said. “This guy has his wits together, that much is true. And for a change this man obviously knows what he’s writing about, and he’s doing some research on his subjects.”

Ben thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “He must be quite new, though. I haven’t heard of any new arrivals at Virginia City yet.”

“How would you? We haven’t had a social visit in town for weeks. Only time we went there it was for supplies, and there was never any time for a talk.” Joe screwed up his face.

“Once the fence repair is done there will be enough time for you to spend in Virginia City, Joseph,” Ben reprimanded mildly. “You can have your ‘talks’ then. And maybe I’ll give you a few minutes tomorrow, while I’m running my errands with Art Barnes. ”

“Well, anyway, apparently there is a new writer and for once he’s a good one.” Adam sounded pleasantly surprised. “It seems the Territorial Enterprise finally is on its way to becoming more than a local rag.”

After one last glance at the praised article he laid the newspaper back onto the coffee table. He went to his father’s desk and picked up the book he left there yesterday evening. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. A very fitting read right now, Adam thought. He settled in his chair again and after a gaze at his brothers, who were back at the checkerboard, and a chuckle about their antics of ‘you cheat!’  ‘I don’t, I’m just smarter!’ he opened the book to a marked page and commenced to read.