Summary: The boys have a job to do in a mysterious old house. Only Hoss is hearing things and Joe can’t help goading his jittery sibling. It’s up to Adam to keep his brothers in check, but even he is astonished by an unexpected discovery in the attic.

Rating: K+

Word count: 4014

“I ain’t goin’ in there, not fer a lifetime of Hop Sing’s flapjacks. No siree.”

Hoss Cartwright’s heels were firmly dug in outside the shadowy O’Neill mansion. With his arms crossed across his chest, he refused to budge.

Admittedly, the place looked far from inviting. Its once ornate gardens had claimed ownership of the broken-down old house. Overgrown trees cast the building in a constant shade of gloom. Branches knocked against the walls and scratched at windowpanes like sharp nails at the end of long knobby fingers.

“Aw, come on, Hoss, you been listening to Old Henry again?” Little Joe’s top lip curled in exasperation. “You know he makes those stories up to frighten little children—”

“—And big children,” interjected Adam, with a smirk.

His remark was met with a snort and a grin, but one look at Hoss told Joe amusement at his brother’s expense was not a good idea. Joe cleared his throat, trying his best to stop a wayward smile from controlling his lips. “Old Henry spreads those stories to stop people breaking in.”

“Well, it’s workin’, cos I ain’t shiftin’.” Hoss’s lips pressed together in an I-shall-not-be-moved kind of way.

Adam hung his head, hiding his grin. Hoss still believed the stories asserting Mac O’Neill had hightailed it out of town because his home was built on a Washoe-Paiute battleground, and the spirits of the fallen had risen to haunt him for violating a sacred site. In reality, no one knew why O’Neill had upped and left in the dead of night. There were rumors he’d stolen his partners’ share of the profits from the mine that’d made them rich. Another story said the wife he’d left behind in St Louis had tracked him down and he’d skipped town to escape her. Whatever the truth, convincing Hoss O’Neill had left because of money, or a woman, was akin to persuading him a horse was really a cow.

“Why’d we have to come here, anyhow? Hoss mumbled. “There’s a million trees waitin’ to be logged on the Ponderosa, why come here to strip a house of its innards.”

“Because Pa said so.” Despite his former good temper, Adam’s frustration at his bull-headed younger brother was starting to show. “There’s a house full of perfectly good lumber we can use. Why chop a healthy tree down when we can use what’s going to waste?”

Adam began to walk towards the tall porch steps. “Now if you don’t mind, me and Joe have work to do.”

Joe jogged up to Adam’s side, matching his brother’s purposeful stride to the house entrance.

“I give him five minutes,” murmured Adam from the corner of his mouth.

“Why do you say that?”

Adam’s eyes flashed as he nodded his chin up at the sky where a black-rimmed, green-hued cloud was rolling in over the mountains. “He’s too set on ghosts and spirits to notice.”

Joe grinned, and together the brothers trotted up the front steps to the porch. A solid door jamb proved an ideal place for Adam to lean his shoulder, one foot crossed over the other as he waited. Joe rested his forearms on the porch railings and watched as Hoss stood like a statue in the center of the yard.

***********

It didn’t take five minutes for the summer storm to hit.

A rapid darkening of the sky was followed by a stomach-churning rumble, and then the heavens opened. Hail the size of garden peas smashed into the ground at such speed they bounced a foot into the air. The statue that was Hoss sprang to life. With his hands over his head, he ran towards the house where Adam and Joe stood laughing at their soon-to-be-soaked-through brother. Their laughter was drowned out by the thunderous pounding of hailstones on the porch roof and the violent swooshing of tree branches. Leaves and twigs swirled through the air before they were beaten to the ground, joining the fast-running streams of water coursing through the yard.

Hoss batted the water from his vest and shivered in the sudden icy temperature. “Good thing Bill and Bess are in that ol’ barn down there.” Their two wagon horses had been unharnessed and secured with a supply of fresh hay in what remained of O’Neill’s stable block. Hoss frowned. “Why’d we do that? We’d normally leave them to graze.”

Widening his eyes so bright, the whites blazed in the gloom, Joe made a long eerie noise and sidled up to his middle brother. “It must have been the spirit of O’Neill guiding us.” He ducked to avoid Hoss’s fist, cackling with laughter as he kept out of reach of Hoss’s arms.

Their responsible older brother prized one of the nailed-on planks from the door. “Stop joshing, you two, we’ve work to do.”

“I think I’ll see how the horses are—”

“Oh no, you don’t,” chimed both Adam and Joe, and with one brother on each side of him, Hoss was bundled through the door and into the darkness within.

***********

“Sure must have been something in its day,” muttered Joe.

Having opened the shutters to let what light there was outside into the house, they stood in a huge hall, waving away the dust and cobwebs from their faces and staring up at the stairs curling around both sides of the hall to the floor above. Doorways on both sides of the hall gave glimpses of shadowy parlors, a dining room, and study. Despite the dirt coating every available surface, and the empty, echoey rooms, there was an air of opulence and grandeur in the long-abandoned house.

“I came here with Pa the year it was built. There were paintings all up the stairs, silverware on every surface. O’Neill himself dressed as though he’d just come off shift at the Ophir which used to bewilder anyone who didn’t know how wealthy he was. But he didn’t care how he looked. To him, this house was a statement, his way of saying I’m as good, if not better than anyone who’s belittled me in the past. The sad thing is, he only lived here a year before he disappeared.”

“What happened to all the furniture?” Joe ran a finger along an empty picture frame and flicked the dust into the air.

“The bank took all the silverware, the marble from the fireplaces and anything else of value. Would you believe all the hinges and doorknobs were made of the silver from his mine? They took all those, of course.” He stood in the doorway to what had once been a parlor. The doors, minus their expensive hinges, lay discarded on the floor. “Everything else ended up in the homes of the concerned townsfolk of Virginia City.”

He crouched down next to one of the doors and studied it closely. “Pa said the house is going to be pulled down as no one will live here.”

“Can you blame ‘em?” Hoss hadn’t moved any further than the threshold of the house. The hail had turned to rain behind him “Place gives me the creeps.”

There was a cackle from Joe, but Adam ignored him. He rapped the door with a knuckle. “There’s good quality wood here.” He straightened up. “Let’s get to work.”

**********

Adam flung open the shutters in the high-ceilinged front parlor. Disturbed dust motes stirred in a rare stream of light.

“We may as well take the shutters, there ain’t no need for them now.” He grabbed a tool from his tool bag and began to work at the hinges. He glanced over at Joe who was stacking wood paneling in the hall, ready to be taken to the buckboard once the rain had stopped. Hoss was staring at the fireplace, his head cocked to one side.

“Hoss.”

There was no answer.

Adam let his tool drop to his side. “Hoss!”

“What!” Hoss spun around.

“Would you stop staring at the walls and get on with what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“But… I can hear something, Adam.”

With a sigh, Adam walked over to stand beside his brother. Joe had darted down to the buckboard in the dwindling rain so there was a rare moment of silence in the house.

Adam looked at Hoss. “There’s nothing there. Now would you quit stalling? At the rate you’re going, we’ll be spending the night here.”

“Heck, no.” Hoss grabbed a lever from the tool bag and muttering to himself began to prize the wood away from the walls. “If he thinks I’m gonna spend one second longer here than I have to, he’s got another thing coming.”

**********

The ceilings weren’t so high in the first-floor bedrooms, but still provided a goodly supply of wood from the paneled walls, dado rails and cornices. Their noses crinkled at the smell of stale air, so the windows were opened to draw in a breeze which made the ragged lace curtains shiver and shake. Hoss, always keen to do his share of the work close to a window or door, would jump each time the curtains brushed across his skin, much to Joe’s amusement. And when he wasn’t stripping the wood from the rooms, Hoss had his ear up against the chimney breast convinced he could hear scratching noises. It proved too much for Adam.

“There’s nothing there, Hoss, for goodness’ sake! And if there is, it’s only an animal. A racoon or chipmunk. Now, will you stop imagining things and get a move on.”

Adam’s outburst was met with a glare and more mumbling under his breath, but Hoss obeyed his brother and turned his attention back to the work at hand.

**********

The three men stood at the bottom of a dark stairwell looking up. No natural light reached the top where a small door stood in murky shadow, recessed at the top of a narrow flight of stairs.

“We got enough of what we came for, ain’t we, Adam?” Even Joe sounded nervous now.

“Ah, come on.” Adam shook his head and sprinted up the steps to the door, turning the handle with a jerk. The door stayed firmly closed. He stood back, gazed at the handle and its surrounds, and finally scratched his head. Peering down at the lock, he tried the handle several more times.

“Doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

On light feet, Adam descended the stairs. “There’s a handle, the door is locked, but there’s no keyhole.”

“Maybe I can force it.” Hoss took his brother’s place at the top of the stairs and putting his shoulder to the door, pushed with all his might, but to no avail.

Rubbing his shoulder, he returned to the landing. “Ain’t nothin’ shiftin’ it. I reckon we pack up and—”

“Wait a minute, Hoss.” Joe’s gaze moved around the hallway, his eyes skimming from one wall to the next.

“Every candleholder is the same,” he rotated on the spot, pointing out each one in turn, “except that one.”

Little remained of the light fittings. The floor was littered with glass from shades long since smashed by vandals. All that remained were the ornately decorated brass arms which had once held up the shade and candle. Joe stood before one of them, smoothing a finger along the brass curve.

“All of them, except this one, are made from one cast. See?” He moved to another sconce and ran a finger from the wall bracket up to the candle drip-pan.” He moved back to the first light fitting. “But this one is in two halves, and it’s not as fancy as all the others. Look, you can see where the two halves have been joined.”

Hoss flicked a finger at the brass. “Since when you been so interested in candleholders.”

Joe’s lips pressed into a line as the threw a look at his brother. “Since I discovered how to open the door,” he said, sardonically. He slipped his fingers through the decorative holes and squirls of the sconce and pulled down. There was a groan from the top of the attic stairs and to Hoss and Adam’s surprise, the attic door now stood ajar above them.

“Would you look at that,” said Hoss, his mouth open with astonishment.

“A secret way in,” murmured Adam. “Mac O’Neill truly was a man of mystery.” He turned to his brothers, a smile lighting his face. “Let’s go see what we can find.” And with Hoss and Joe close on his heels, Adam made his way up the attic stairs.

**********

Adam pushed the door open.

There was a fluttering sound, and something whooshed past his face. He swerved backwards, reaching out to find his balance and came to a wobbly halt on the top step.

Hoss was not so lucky. A flutter of claw and wing hit him full in the face. He shrieked, flapping his arms around his face, turned on his heel and hurtled down the stairs, pushing Joe into the wall as he went. Hoss hit the floor, his arms shielding his head as he curled into a crouch.

“Hoss!”

The voice was distant, a blur in Hoss’s rattled mind. Didn’t he say this house was haunted? Didn’t he say there were ghosts in here? Dang it, what was he still doing here? He clambered to his feet and started to run towards the downward stairs.

“Hoss! Stop!”

Adam’s voice drew him to a halt.

“Where are you going?”

Hoss turned, peering over his shoulder at his older brother. “Dadburnit, Adam, I told you there was something in here, but, oh no, you wouldn’t believe me.” He started down the stairs. “I’m getting out of here while I still can.”

“Hoss, it was a bird.”

Hoss stopped.

“A bird?” His cheeks reddened.

He looked back at Adam who was standing in the hallway with a smile rolling around his lips.

“It was just a trapped bird, look,” he pointed at the floor, “feathers.”

There was a high-pitched cackle from the attic stairs. Joe was doubled over. “You should have heard yourself. Arrrrrghhhh.” He flung his arms up in imitation of Hoss and collapsed on the stairs, hooting in laughter. “You scream like a girl.”

“Dadburnit, Joe, I’ll have none of your sauce.” In several long strides he was at the attic stairwell, but Joe was still in a paroxysm of uncontrolled laughter. He looked at Adam. “Dadblame, I thought it was… Dangit, Joe, stop your howlin’.” He grabbed Joe’s lapels, pulling him off the ground. “I said—”

His words were abruptly cut off as Adam thrust himself between them and held them at arm’s length. Joe giggled as Hoss glowered at him.

“Now, at any other time I would love to watch you two go hammer and tongs, but we’ve got work to do. Save it till later.”

Hoss pulled away. “Okay, whatever you say, Older Brother,” but then he glared at Joe. “You wait till a bird flies into your face, Little Joe, see how you react.”

Joe giggled again. “Like a man, Hoss, like a man,” and, still sniggering, and keen to avoid Hoss’s clenched fist, quickly ran up the stairs to the attic.

**********

The attic was empty.

The three brothers stood staring at a space devoid of boxes, crates, stored furniture, anything at all.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” said Adam, staring around at the empty walls. “Why have a mysterious way in, if there’s nothing to hide?”

Joe was standing in the center of the room, a finger pointing at each of the windows in turn.

With a sigh, Adam turned back to the stairs. “There isn’t even any paneling up here. We might as well load up the buckboard and head home.”

“Wait!” Joe held out his hands to stop his brother from leaving. “I’ve got an idea. Wait here.” He sprinted down the stairs, the sound of his boots echoing into the distance.

“What’s Little Brother up to this time?” Adam sat back against one of the window ledges. “He’s wasting time, there’s nothing up here but dust.”

“And birds.” Hoss looked sheepish. “Can’t say as I’m not relieved”.

Adam met his look with an amused smiled and nodded towards one of the windows. “Look, you can see how that one got in. The window’s open, and the main chimney is on the back of that wall.”

“But how’d they get into the chimney?

Adam shrugged. “Probably a hole in the brickwork outside.”

The sound of feet pounding up the stairs drew Adam into an upright position just as Joe appeared breathlessly in the doorway, a mallet hanging from his hand. With a grin, he ran past Hoss and Adam to the end of the room, where lifting the mallet, he slammed it into the wall.

“Woah, Joe, what are you doing?” shouted Adam, as dust and grit billowed out into the room.

“You’ll see,’” was the strained response, as Joe lifted the mallet and once more hit the wall. Before long he’d made a man-size hole through to the other side, revealing, through the dust and debris, a hidden room in the attic.

He stood back, waiting for the air to clear, and pointed at the windows along one side of the roof. “There’re three windows up here on either side. Downstairs I could have sworn there were four, and I was right. I figured there had to be something else here, but this time I decided not to look for a secret way in.”

Adam slapped him on the back. “You’ve got a hidden talent none of us knew about, Joe. You’re a great puzzle-solver.”

Joe grinned and hung his head, pleased with the compliment from his older brother.

“Although, that was perfectly good quality wood we could have used there.” He met Little Joe’s eye, winked, and held out his arm towards the hole in the wall. “After you, Joe.”

Joe let the mallet drop to the floor and stepped over the threshold into the hidden room. Dust still swirled in the air. Hoss followed but walked straight into Little Joe’s back.

“Joe, move it, would yer, why have you… oh, my good golly.”

**********

The body was sat upright in a chair behind a small desk, one hand holding a pen resting on a large open book, the other gripping the lapels of a silky gown. The three Cartwrights stood in amazement, staring at the mummified features of what had once been a man in late middle age. Wispy strands of grey hair covered a thin scalp. The cheeks and lips were drawn in and a skull-like face stared unseeing into the distance. A look of pain and surprise still marked the features of the dead man.

“Well, I think we now know what happened to Mac O’Neill,” said Adam.

Hoss edged closer and took a quick close look at his face. “You sure that’s him?”

“I’m sure. I met him once, remember.”

Joe was picking up small medicine bottles and books and loose paper that covered every inch of the desk and floor. “What do you think happened to him?”

Adam raised a green glass bottle and studied the label. “I think his heart gave out. Look.” He held out the bottle. “Foxglove extract. Doc Martin has some at his surgery for patients with heart palpitations. And look at how he’s sitting. He’s clutching his chest.”

“Looks like he was writin’ something’ before he died.” Hoss carefully extricated the book from under the corpse’s hand. “Darn, can barely read his handwritin’. There’s pages of it. Do yer think he was writin’ a novel of his life or something’?”

Adam took the book from Hoss’s hands, and resting it on one forearm, began to leaf through the pages. “This isn’t a novel. It started as a ledger. See, pretty much half of it is columns of numbers.” He whistled. “A record of his riches, by the looks of things.” He jumped to where the columns ended. “Now it turns to writing. You’re right, Hoss, this is hard to read.” Adam held the book up closer to his eyes, squinting to make out the untidy words. “It’s a journal. Listen.”

Adam ran a finger across the words as he read.

“May 12. Moira said she’s leaving me—”

“Who’s Moira?”

“His wife, I think.” Adam found the spot he’d been at before Hoss’s interruption. “She says I’m nothing but a filthy ragpicker, the same as when I married her. She said I embarrass her when people come a-visiting. It’s up to me what I spend my money on. This house is my legacy. It will be standing when I’m long gone. Can’t say the same thing for fancy duds or flash hats. She wants me to hobnob with the governor and politicians. But I don’t care about them. Give me my old muckers Eddie and Tom any day over a senator from Washington. Moira only came looking for me because I hit it rich. She don’t care for me, and I don’t care for her either.”

Adam shook his head and skipped forward to the last page.

“May 18. She’s gone. She took all the silver and jewelry she could carry and left with her fancy man. But I have the last laugh. And laugh I did as she screamed at me from the hallway. She couldn’t find the money she knows is here. She’ll never find it. That flat-nosed, scrawny, ugly…” Adam frowned. “I’ll skip over that bit, but his writing is nearly unreadable now.” He continued. “I’ll have the last laugh. I hid all the cash. The money she so desperately wants is…” Adam stopped. “That’s it. It just trails off. And there’s ink all over the page.” He looked up at his brothers. “I think he died writing that last sentence.” He gently placed the book back on the desk.

“Probably got himself so worked up his heart gave out,” said Joe.

Hoss’s nose crinkled. “You think there’s a fortune hidden in this house somewhere? But we near pulled the place apart.”

Adam smiled. “He could have hidden it anywhere. In the gardens, the cellar, maybe even his mine. I guess we’ll never know.” He looked at his brothers. “I’m tired. Let’s call it a day.”

Hoss pointed at the dusty corpse of Mac O’Neill. “What do we do about him?”

“We’ll give him a decent burial. But not today. He’s not going anywhere.” Adam stepped through the hole and out into the main attic space. “Let’s go home.”

One by one the brothers began to make their way down the stairs to the hallway.

Hoss paused at the top and took one last look at the empty attic. “To think I was scared of this ol’ house.” He grinned. “Who has the last laugh now, huh?”

As Hoss reached the bottom of the stairs, Joe pushed the light fitting back into place and the attic door closed with a clunk.

**********

The loaded buckboard lumbered away from the mansion. The rain had cleared, and the early evening sun was casting long shadows across the track. But the sun didn’t reach the gloomy house in its forest shroud. Darkness was already stealing away what light there was, and as the sun lowered below the horizon, the interior of the old house would soon be veiled in black.

The birds had settled for the night in their rooftop roost, and all was still and silent. In the attic, however, a shadow floated out of the secret room and drifted to a dormer window, shimmering in anger as it watched the intruders drive away. So strong was the fury that a window flew open, seemingly of its own accord, causing the birds above to shift uneasily on their nests.

How dare these thieves and vandals desecrate this fine abode?

But then the shadow swept to a dark unexplored corner of the attic room, to where a concealed compartment in the floor hid what Moira O’Neill had been so impatient to find. The mood changed to smug satisfaction, and a deep throaty rumble echoed through the silence.

Mac O’Neill had the last laugh.

The End

Author’s Note:

Written for the 2022 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament.   The game was Five Card Draw and the words and/or phrases I was dealt were:

solving puzzles
hail
a secret room
a half-written novel
money