Summary:  Rats in the classroom? Miss Jones sent her students home early, but is little Little Joe to blame for it?

Rating:  K  WC  1700

 

Smelling a Rat

Carefully, the boy peeked around the barn corner. Luckily the yard was deserted. Behind him his little mare snorted impatiently. She wanted into her stall, where fresh hay and maybe even a carrot or two were usually waiting for her.

“Sssh!” The boy put a finger to his lips and the horse seemed to understand, for she stood still now. A last look, there was still no one in sight. Quick as a flash the boy tiptoed along the barn wall and disappeared through the gate. A few minutes later he reappeared, fishing gear clamped under his arm.

“Little Joe? What are you doing here?”
Taken aback the boy froze but recovered quickly.

“Oh – hi Pa. Nice weather today, isn’t it? Ideal for fishing, don’t you think? ”

“Joseph, why aren’t you at school?”

“At school? Umm… Miss Jones sent us home early.”

Ben Cartwright waited, but his youngest added no further explanation.

“May I ask why Miss Jones decided to send you home early?”

The boy tried to avoid his father’s gaze and fiddled with the fishing-rod.

“Maybe because of the rats,” he whispered.

“Our rats? What happened to our rats?” Unnoticed they had been joined by Hoss and Adam. Hoss seemed to know what was going on – his father did not.

“Our rats?” he echoed, “Hoss, Joe, what are you talking about?”

Both boys were shifting their weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. They looked at each other to dare the other one to answer. Only Adam, not personally involved, smirked cooly at his father’s growing annoyance and his brothers’ equally growing desperation. Joe braced himself and explained.

“Yesterday I caught a few rats in the backyard. You know, they come to the place where we burn the rubbish. Hop Sing complains all the time about the rats. Doesn’t he, Pa?”

“Yes, he does,” Ben agreed, “so you killed some rats and…?”

“I didn’t kill them,” Joe corrected, “Hoss didn’t let me.”

“Pa, rats are living things,” Hoss hurried to explain, “they are so cute and …and clever… and they are…”

“Vermin,” Adam finished the sentence matter-of-factly. Hoss shot an angry scowl at his brother in return.

“I told Joe to set them free at the lake, far away from the house, Pa. At the lake they don’t disturb Hop Sing.”

Ben knew there was no way to convince his good-hearted middle son that some living things were better killed before they could do any harm. And at the moment another son needed his attention more than Hoss.

“What did you do with the rats, Joseph?” he asked sternly.

“I put them in a flour sack.” Sensing his father’s growing anger he added quickly “Don’t worry Pa, it was one of the empty, old ones we store in the barn. And I wore gloves – Adam’s thick leather gloves.”

Before Adam had a chance to protest Ben raised his hand to stop the looming quarrel.

“Joseph, go on,” he demanded.

“I planned to set them free in Virginia City today after school.”

“WHAT? Why didn’t you take them to the lake as Hoss suggested?”

“Because there is no rat food at the lake. Rats get their food from the silly salvation and…”

Seeing his fathers puzzled expression Adam translated helpfully. “Civilization.”

“… and I planned to set them free at the cemetery. I reckon the dead don’t mind. At least they don’t complain about them.”

Little Joe hesitated. Miss Jones came into play now and his father was on her side most of the time. Clearly making an effort to have patience with his son, Ben demanded again: “Go on!”

The boy took a deep breath and continued.

“I took the sack into the classroom and put it next to my school desk. Miss Jones noticed the wobbling in it. She said ‘what is in this sack?’ I said ‘Some [cough]ats. My pa doesn’t want them on the Ponderosa.’ She said ‘ The poor little things.’ I said ‘I ought to kill them. She said ‘ That’s cruel. Let them out.’ I said ‘Maybe they’ll bite.’ She said ‘They must be terrified. They don’t bite if we treat them gently.’ I said ‘Sure?’ She said “Joseph Cartwright, do what I say. Open the sack now.’ And so I did.”

Little Joe glanced at his father, who needed a moment to sort out the she-said-I-said-s.

“Miss Jones let the rats out in the classroom?” Ben shook his head in disbelief. “This woman is out of her mind.”

“Maybe there was something wrong with her hearing,” Adam suggested, “rats sounds a lot like cats, especially if said with a sudden cough.”

He winked at his little brother, getting even with him for the gloves. The boy blushed. Luckily their father didn’t notice.

“So you opened the sack. What happened?”

In spite of his somewhat awkward situation Little Joe giggled. “It was hilarious. The rats jumped out of the sack and run around in the classroom trying to find a hiding place. The girls and the little boys climbed on the desks in panic. Everyone was shouting, crying, yelling. I and the big boys tried to catch the rats. The beasts run everywhere: under the desks, under the shelves, behind the oven. Did you know rats can climb? Suddenly one run along on top of the blackboard. Miss Jones was great. At first she gave a little shriek but then she took action. She hurried to the broom cabinet, got a broom and then… BANG! BOING! BANG!”

The boy whirled wildly with the fishing rod, demonstrating enthusiastically his teacher’s actions. He nearly hit his brothers, who stepped back quickly.

“JOSEPH!”

“Sorry, Pa. But Miss Jones was really brave. She smashed the rats one by one.”

Listening to his son’s vivid description, Ben got worried. “I hope nobody was bitten.”

“Nobody got hurt, Pa,” Little Joe giggled again, “other than the rats of course.”

“Murderer,” Hoss murmured.

“And then Miss Jones decided to send you home,” Ben tried to come to an end.

“No, sir, Miss Jones wanted to continue with the lesson. She put the rats carefully back into the sack. It was then, when Jenny Baker spotted the numbers and it started again.”

“Numbers? What numbers?”

“The numbers I painted on the rats. 1, 2, 3…”

“I’m able to count, Joseph. Why did you paint numbers on these rats?” Ben interrupted harshly.

“Because of the rat race I planned. On the cemetery. At first I wanted to give them real names. One was a big, fat one, a perfect ‘Hoss’ and the one with the dark curly fur a possible ‘Adam’. And there was an old greying one…”

He stopped and glanced sheepishly at his father.

“I didn’t name it ‘Pa’. Because of you I couldn’t. So I gave them numbers instead. For the rat race.”

“Thank you,” Ben noted dryly, “and what IS a rat race?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know but he had to ask anyway.

“I planned to let them out of sack on the cemetery together with Mitch and Sammy. With the numbers we could bet…um…better see, which one escapes first.”

Only just Little Joe avoided more trouble, when it occurred to him that his father surely wouldn’t approve betting on rats.

“Joseph, please come to an end. What started again when Jenny noticed the numbers?”

“She climbed on the desk again and started to scream her head off. Miss Jones tried to calm her but to no avail. She had to slap Jenny in the face to stop it. By then everyone stood on a desk and was crying or shouting again.”

“Why?” Ben prompted.

“Because of rat number 4, Pa. Rat 1, 2, 3 and 5 were smashed, but rat 4 wasn’t there. The girls refused to sit down again and we wanted to start another search. But Miss Jones sent us home instead.”

Little Joe fell silent.

“And that is the end of a long sad story?” Ben asked, stunned.

“Nearly, Pa. Miss Jones asked me to give you this note.”

He fumbled a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket and nervously tried to smooth it with his hands. Ben snapped it from his fingers and threw a glance at it. It was, as expected, an invitation to see Miss Jones to talk things over tomorrow anytime at his convenience – again.

“Joseph, I suggest we finish our conversation in private.” Ben pointed to the barn

“But PA! It was not my fault!” Joe protested. He knew exactly, what was coming next and it wasn’t something pleasant.

“Little Joe is right, Pa” Hoss took sides with his little brother, “it was Miss Jones who ordered to open the sack.”

“Yes, she did and I even warned her,” Little Joe added.

Even Adam nodded in agreement now. Ben hesitated, three pairs of eyes resting on him expectantly. Thinking the whole event over, he had to revise his opinion. For once his youngest seemed to be innocent.

“Alright boys, we forget about the whole thing. Little Joe, rats don’t belong in a classroom. I hope you will remember that in future. You two – back to your chores, the show is over. Little Joe, stable your horse and then make yourself useful, too. Fix the fence of the chicken coop. Hop Sing complained about a hole there this morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Joe hurried away in relief.

“Lucky kid,” Adam followed him with his eyes until the boy disappeared around the corner, “I can’t help it, I smell a rat in his story.”

Suddenly Hoss started laughing. He laughed so hard tears rolled down his cheeks. Then he noticed Ben and Adam staring at him and gasping for breath he explained:

“He planned it. The little rascal planned it all. One, two three, five, dagburnit, what a hoot!”

“Planned it? Come on Hoss, he couldn’t foresee that a rat escapes.”

“You don’t understand. I saw Little Joe’s rats yesterday – all four of them…”