Summaries:
Oration on My Life’s Work – one of the Cartwrights in the mode of a self-appointed avenging angel and working hard to make sure no one knows his choice of a second job.
Old Stage Station –  otherworldly goings-on for Joe and Adam in an eerie and chilling mystery that almost sends one brother home without the other.
On Living the Nightmare – Ben has trouble accepting his sons’ choices for wives; numerous references to ladies featured in Bonanza episodes.
rating = T  word count = 4,874

 

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Oration On My Life’s Work

The Billiard Room was quiet when he left. I could hear the music from the party though. We had played billiards, and I let the man win two games and some wagers before I began to use my skills and win all that money back and a sizeable portion more. I knew that he was getting angry as that happened. He had seen me lose to my old friend, Dobbins, repeatedly only a few hours before showing no particular skills whatsoever despite a great deal of bravado and a willingness to bet seemingly far in excess of talent. As we played and he realized that had been a scam, his face became florid, and he demanded to know what scheme I was employing. Then he assumed I was after his money, but I blithely replied that he was incorrect in his assumption.

“No, sir, that is not at all true. You see, I have lured you here with this scheme to kill you.”

Shocked at first, he began to laugh nervously at first and then with mirth. I didn’t laugh. It made him nervous once more and then demanding. Over and over, he asked what possible reason I could have to want him dead.

“You and I only met for the first time today. I mean, I knew who you were, but I had no dealings with you. I had never even spoken to you before today other than perhaps to greet you when I spoke with your father.”

“I have known men like you. You make the world worse for being in it. I have made it my mission to remove men like you from the world when I have the opportunity to do so. This is one of those opportunities.”

“Hah! How is this an opportunity? You’re not armed. What weapon do you think you can use against me in here? Would you use a billiard cue? Or perhaps you think you could kill me with one of these billiard balls?”

Laughing with some mirth then, he asked again and again what weapon I planned to use to kill him, but he became less confident as I remained silent. When he looked at the weapons collection on the wall behind him, he seemed to think he had figured it out. Picking up one after another, he held each one and slid his hand over each blade or tip, and pointed them one by one in a threatening manner at me. He was taller, much heavier, and much more muscular than I. If he had wished, he could likely have killed me with any of those weapons, but I simply looked at him calmly until he had picked up and replaced each and every weapon in the collection. He was gaining confidence then and using valuable time. It was time he didn’t have to spare, but he didn’t know that. It was time I needed to complete my plan. He didn’t know that yet either. It was going well as far as I was concerned. He talked too, and as he talked, he exhibited more and more bravado even promising legal action for my threat. He smirked. He sneered. I remained impassive which only served to get him more angry and impassioned. It all helped my plan along.

Of course, he probably had drawn the same conclusion that things were going well, but he was at a deficit in knowledge. I knew quite a bit more than he did, and I was pleased to see my plan proceeding so smoothly. Sometimes my plans did not go as well, and then I had to improvise. When that happened, things often got quite messy and I might have to scramble for an alibi too. I never liked that kind of situation. Not only was the mess against my principles, but the risk increased exponentially when that happened.

Having finished his exposition with the weapons and seeming to think he had cowed me sufficiently with them, he moved to more ordinary items like the matched candlesticks and other items in the room. He waved the candlesticks at me as if they were a weapon and then did the same with each of the other heavy items until he must have touched everything in the room that could have been used as a weapon. I was even more pleased at that point with my plan proceeding much as I had hoped it would. The result I wanted required time and he was gifting me with the very element that was the most difficult to control.

As he began to look tired and his face was a bit more pale than one would expect from a man who had exerted himself so much, I knew he might begin to suspect that there was something else happening. It was then that I spoke again as calmly as I had spoken earlier. I wanted him to panic at this point. His heart beating rapidly would help my plan work even better.

“You know Sally Ann. She is a good friend to me and many others I count as friends. She used to be a saloon girl, but she works as a midwife now. We have had many interesting discussions.”

“Who the hell cares about your friends?”

“Perhaps you should care. Are you aware that she is an herbalist too and has vast knowledge of plant substances and the effects of many of them on the human body? Some things are beneficial and some are extremely harmful. She has often offered advice to me on methods of poisoning those who don’t deserve to live any longer. Her husband was one such man. He was bestial. He made a lot of promises to her, but once they were married, she found out that it was all lies. He got her out of the saloon girl life and into something much worse. We worked together the first time with him as the target. I keep her secret about what happened to her husband. She keeps mine.”

“What do you mean by working together?”

He was starting to get suspicious but it was too late as he staggered.

“This time, she gave me the recipe for a wonderful herbal oil that is readily absorbed through the skin. I coated every weapon and movable object in this room with a thin layer of said oil. It took quite some time. I thought you might wonder why I was wearing these thin leather gloves, but you never thought to ask. Earlier, you wondered what weapon I would use to kill you. The answer is simple: all of them.”

I shrugged and tossed a towel to him then. He couldn’t catch it, and it fell by his feet where it lay as he stared at me.

“You might want to wipe your hands with that to remove the oil. I’ve changed my mind. I can’t kill you in cold blood like this. It’s not gentlemanly. Instead, I propose we meet at dawn with dueling pistols. Will that be acceptable?”

“You bastard! I’m not meeting you in a duel!”

He grabbed that towel and scrubbed away at his hands as if it mattered while looking at me with haughty disdain.

“You’re crazy. I’ll have you arrested. I’ll have you in court and take everything of value that you have. I’ll take what your family has too for good measure.”

None of it was of any significance of course. I had lied about both my change in plans and my challenge to the duel although I suppose the second part wasn’t truly a lie. He would be dead long before morning so the challenge was moot and therefore not a lie. You see, the oil would have penetrated already because the whole interchange between us had taken over an hour. I only offered the towel so that if he fled the room as he felt the effects begin to have their fatal effects, he would not inadvertently transfer any of that poisonous concoction to an innocent or perhaps not-so-innocent but unintended victim. I only meant to do him harm this night and not any others there even though there might be others who deserved some punishment. I didn’t like it to be random though. The subject should know why they faced their fate.

Another reason, of course, was that there might be others in this mansion who deserved the same fate, but for more than one to die would invite too much attention. More importantly, there needed to be certainty before such a fate was bestowed upon anyone. It was not something that was done without careful planning and most definitely not on a whim.

The vial of poison planted in his pocket, and another on his bedside table in the guest room, the suicide letter detailing his terrible guilt for his evil deeds should be enough to end any serious investigation of murder although suspicion could possibly linger for years. He did not seem the type to carry guilt nor to end his own life over such regrets. I did include in the letter some comments that he was afraid he might be found out. The humiliation of an arrest and trial was something he could not face. People might accept that as a reason for him to take his life.

Many other men of his ilk knew that he had gotten several young women with child most often forcefully taking them. However, what they did not know was that he was the fiend who then mercilessly smothered them with their own pillows snuffing the life out of them and denying a future to the babe growing in that unfortunate woman’s womb each time as well. No one ever knew he was the one who had done any of it. He knows enough about law and evidence to have covered his tracks well.

This last time he had taken a woman in whom Hoss Cartwright is interested. When I found out how she had come to be with child, I was angry. As I investigated the man, my fury grew. I knew I had to do something. Now, I know that Hoss will be willing to take Miss Maybelle Wendell as his wife even if every other man scorns her in her condition. She will live and the babe will live. Hoss will have a wife. It’s a good and decent result, and no more women will suffer the fate of those unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with Mister Janus Gilliam.

All went well with my plan except he was so big and so muscular that the poison didn’t work as fast as I and Sally Ann had expected. While I was hurriedly cleaning, he made it to the stairs and stumbled down them shocking everyone at Annie and the Swede’s party. The man was about to tell my father who had killed him but only managed to say one thing before the poison finished its work.

“Ben. Ben. Poison. It was poison.”

In that excited utterance, he never uttered my name which would have certainly created a problem as many knew we had been upstairs in the billiards room together. With what he said and the evidence I had planted, the assumption was made and it held that he had committed suicide. However, many did think that he had changed his mind there at the end. People shook their heads at his decision to take his life and at his regret of his action that came too late to save him. It made for a good story to tell around town. It meant too that no one was looking for another way to explain what had happened. My version was that he had played billiards and then left without returning as promised. I had waited for his return until hearing all the noise from the commotion downstairs. There was no reason to question my story. It was a close call though.

What happened made me be even more cautious in my planning and in my actions. I learned I should never be the last person to be seen with the intended target. It could lead to too many questions that might be difficult to explain away. I do need to be more careful in the future especially as I may have to do something about that wicked little gold digger Miss Annabelle Mayhew before she does any harm to my little brother Joe.

Of course, Miss Mayhew won’t have to die, but like some others, she may come down with some unfortunate and embarrassing moments in public. She’s trying so hard to sink her claws into Little Joe and offering him incentives that any nice girl would not offer. However, my little brother has a great deal of pride. He won’t want to have a woman on his arm who brings scorn and especially laughter. I’m sure Sally Ann would be more than happy to help me with that. Annabelle is coming to dinner on Sunday evening. Pa will have her sit between him and my little brother. I think having her dinner come back up would be a good way to offend both of them as well as Hop Sing for good measure. If it’s good enough, Hoss will tell the story when he goes to the saloon on Monday to pick up supplies.

There, that’s the start of a good plan already. It’s time to talk it over with Sally Anne. I’ll set the sign of the standing rocks as I ride home. She’ll meet me at our secret rendezvous and then return to hide what I need in the same place. She’ll have a smile for me when we meet because she gets a sense of satisfaction too when I remove from this earth a man who assaults women. I’m feeling rather good about how my life’s secret work is going right now.

***********

 

Old Stage Station

Taking the shortcut across the desert wasn’t usually a problem. The weather had been reasonably mild and they had plenty of water and food. The first night had passed very peacefully with less threats than most other routes would have had. The three men had plenty of time for talking and sharing all sorts of tales and teasing. All of that had ceased that afternoon as they saw the dark clouds forming over the high peaks of the Sierras. Adam Cartwright had lived in the area long enough to know what it meant. There was rain up in the high country that would send flash floods into the dry washes and there would likely be strong winds and possibly lightning too before the day was done. They needed cover and there was little to be had. They pushed hard going toward the storm but that was where they were likely to find some cover from its fury as well.

The brothers took turns with their drover Micah in leading the packhorse who objected to the hard pace much more than their mounts did. The storm threatened for a several more hours and then hit with an intensity that promised that it would get much worse before it blew itself out. With lightning strikes every few minutes across the sky, three men looked for some kind of cover and regretted not finding something sooner but the barren landscape they had been traversing left little in the way of respite from the storm. They reached an old stage road that made travel easier so that their pace picked up and increased their hopes of finding something suitable before the heavy rain hit. They could smell it in the air and knew that was what they likely faced next. Seeing the shape of the building along the old stage route was an unexpected favor but Little Joe Cartwright was surprised.

“Adam, I thought you said this old stage station burned down and the station master and his wife died in the fire?”

Even more surprised than Little Joe, all Adam could do was shrug as he, Joe, and Micah rode hard in that direction desperate for shelter. He had heard that from a driver on the stage on one of his trips. He could no longer remember which one but was sure that had been the story. How it could be so wrong, he had no idea.

Once they were there, they took care of the horses first tying them inside a dilapidated lean-to stable that at least still had a roof and one wall that were functional. Pulling the saddles and the bedrolls, they rushed to the station and inside to escape the storm just before the rain began to pour down in a deluge. Despite the fury of the storm outside and that the door banged back and forth in the wind, it was amazingly quiet and still inside the building. As Adam looked for something to prop against the door to keep it closed, Micah and Joe began laying out their bedrolls remarking on their great good fortune.

“I’m glad we found such a good place to spend the night, Joe.”

Yeah, good thing we didn’t listen to my older brother there. We’d be stuck out there trying to stay dry under some lean-to somewhere with a smoky fire and a cold dinner.”

Something made Adam hesitate though and he didn’t roll out his bedroll and even stopped his search for something to prop the door closed. He hadn’t felt right since entering the building. To him, it felt colder inside than it had outside, and it seemed like it was getting colder by the minute. More worrisome was that he kept getting the impression of seeing things in his peripheral vision, but whenever he turned to look, nothing was there. He couldn’t be sure, but it appeared to be getting darker in the room too because Joe and Micah were getting harder for him to see. Their images were growing somewhat dim and even seemed to waver in the semidarkness.

It was at that moment that Adam knew something was terribly wrong. They had no lantern and no candle yet it had been lighter inside than out when they entered. It had made no sense and yet Adam hadn’t questioned it as if something had blocked his mind from that, but now he began to question everything. It was probably his doubt that allowed him to begin to see more and keep some of his rational thought processes working although even they weren’t functioning as well they should have been. When Adam saw what he saw next, he should have reacted more strongly than he did. As he stared into the darkness in the recesses of the room, Adam could swear he saw two pairs of red eyes in the now shimmering gloom in those areas of the room. Knowing that there had to be something unholy in that room, he backed toward the door that had again swung open in the wind. Almost desperately, he called for the attention of the other two men.

“Joe, Micah, we should leave.”

Pausing only briefly in his task, Little Joe didn’t even look at him to respond. “Go out into that storm. You’re crazy.”

Micah was silent as if he didn’t even hear Adam.

“Joe, Micah, we’re leaving.”

Both men ignored him. Stepping close to his brother, Adam grabbed his arm and tried to pull Joe to the door, but he fought him with an insane intensity shocking Adam with his strength and the way he snarled almost inhumanly back at him. Forced to release his hold on Joe, Adam backed to the doorway and tried to think of something to do to save his brother and Micah too if he could. As he gazed into the darkness that was growing ever more dense, he saw the red eyes now had grotesque red smiles too. He stepped just beyond the sill. When he did, his vision began to clear even more, and he saw the ugly teeth of the demons and began to see their outlines as well. He knew he had to do something and had only one idea that he thought might work.

“Joe, your mother was a whore!”

With a scream of rage, Joe turned and threw himself at Adam knocking both of them backwards out the door and into the mud. He tried at first to put his hands around Adam’s throat to throttle him. The two rolled on the ground in the rain but stopped in shock not only at what Joe was doing but at what they heard first and saw when they turned their heads toward the old station. The storm’s fury was drowned out by Micah’s screams and the soul-searing howls of the demons. With flashes of lightning, they saw only the burned station ruins with their bedrolls and saddles lying in the midst of them. There was no sign of Micah. The demons were gone too. It was as if Micah and the horrible beasts had never been there.

“Adam, where’s Micah?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t follow him there. He’s lost to us.” Adam paused. “Joe, I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Joe knew then why Adam had said what he did earlier. The insult had been to inflame his anger and get him to leave the station because all the rest of his mind was numbed by those demons. Joe stood and backed away as Adam did the same. Nearly covered in mud and with rain pelting them, they didn’t even care. They took the reins of their horses and of Micah’s horse as well as the lead rope of the packhorse and walked away into the night intending to get as far from that old stage station as they could.

A week later, they returned with a wagon and shovels. They dismantled what was left of the station and buried the bricks in multiple graves around the area. All the wood was burned. It seemed to burn with a greenish hue. When that was done, Adam said a prayer that the minister had given him. Then he dropped the paper into the coals of the fire and it burned red hot. Smiling, he motioned to Joe that they could go home with a clear conscience. No one else would be trapped by the demons of the old stage station.

***********

 

On Living the Nightmare

Standing in his bedroom, Ben adjusted his tie and sighed in exasperation. He couldn’t tolerate another morning of listening to the bickering that occurred every single morning ever since Adam had brought her home as his wife. They had the bedroom next to his and the walls although solid were not soundproofed. How he wished her house had been better built and could have withstood that terrible storm, but it didn’t and now they were here.

“Adam, you ask every night and complain every morning. You know it is perfectly normal for a husband and a wife to have separate bedrooms. Couples all over the country do it that way. It is far more civilized than being together every night and producing a dozen children as if there was nothing better for a man and a woman to do. If we had more children, people would know what we were doing at night.”

“Laura, of course they would know. Every husband and wife out there knows because they’re doing the same, or actually not the same, because they’re actually sleeping together.”

“Now lower your voice. You don’t want Peggy to hear your base demands of me, do you? What will she think of men if she knows that’s all they want from a woman?”

“It’s not all they want but it certainly is one of the things they want.”

Stepping into the hallway at the same time as the bickering couple at least got them to stop briefly and mutter greetings to him. Then they continued down the hall with Laura telling Adam he needed to stop eating so much as he was gaining a paunch that wasn’t attractive. He rejoined that it didn’t seem to matter if he was attractive or not. Ben waited knowing there would likely be more of that at the breakfast table before they departed for church. The next shock was Joe coming out of his bedroom with his wife.

“Morning, Pa. Did you sleep well?”

Hardly able to speak with the appearance his son made, Ben finally stammered out a reply. “Yes. Joseph, are you wearing that to church? Please tell me you aren’t.”

“Pa, I have to. Tirza gave it to me as a gift for my birthday. It is kind of pretty, don’t you think. I feel like a pirate.”

Decked out in a flame red shirt open to the waist, Joe also had a large gold chain around his neck and suspended from that was a pendant of the Ponderosa brand with a wolf’s head emblazoned on it. He wore black pants with thin white stripes running vertically and the pants could not have fit tighter than they did.

“Joseph, it looks more like a costume for a Mardi Gras parade than for church services!”

“Hey, that’s great. Hey, Tirza, you were right. It is a New Orleans style outfit. Pa said so. Hey, Pa, wait until you see what Tirza is wearing.”

“I can wait.”

At that point, the door to Hoss’ room cracked open enough for Hoss to stick his head out. He looked terrible with mussed hair, red-rimmed eyes, and a dour expression.

“Another late night in town with Helen?”

“Pa, she was winning this time. She really was. So I had a few more beers with my friends, and before you know it, she lost her winnings and her stake too. So she had to keep playing to try to make it back. I give her all I had with me, but it wasn’t enough. I had to give her another five thousand in an IOU for the Ponderosa. Ya don’t mind, do ya? I mean, anything to keep my wife happy so she don’t leave me for another man, right, Pa?”

“Hoss, at this rate, you’ll have Helen but we won’t have the Ponderosa. That’s the tenth IOU in ten days. We can’t keep going like this.”

“We won’t. Today is Sunday, and there ain’t no poker going on today.” Hoss smiled. “Oh, and we ain’t going to church. We’re too tired. We’re gonna sleep some.” Hoss closed the door and Ben closed his eyes wondering if the pounding in his head would ever stop.

“Mister Cartwright, Mister Cartwright, you hear me?”

“What is it, Hop Sing?”

“Mister Adam, I think Mister Cartwright open his eyes soon. See them move.”

“Pa, wake up, would you please wake up.”

Opening his eyes then, Ben looked up to see Adam hovering behind Hop Sing who sat at his side. Hop Sing tipped a spoonful of water to his lips and he gratefully accepted it. He had another and another until his dry mouth felt good enough to speak.

“Hop Sing, when you go back to China, please take me with you.”

“Hop Sing no go back China. You talk foolishment. I get more water. You rest.”

Taking the chair next to the bed after Hop Sing departed, Adam put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Pa, do you know who I am?”

“Of course I know. You’re my oldest son, Adam.”

“Do you know you have other sons?”

“Of course. Hoss and Joe. Why are you asking such silly questions?”

“You’ve been delirious with fever, Pa. You’ve been saying some rather odd things to us. I only wanted to check to see if the delirium had passed.”

“You’re not married to Laura?”

“No, thank the Lord, Will saved me from that.”

“Hoss didn’t marry Helen Layton.”

“No, Pa, no, she would have destroyed him and us.”

Shivering a little at the thought, Ben had the final question. “And Joe and Tirza?”

“Well . . .” Seeing his father’s look of horror, Adam quickly relented. “No, of course Joe didn’t marry Tirza. That woman was a little bit off kilter, don’t you think. Joe knew that even if he was attracted to her more than ample physical attributes.”

“So it was all like a bad dream.”

“Yes, of course. None of what you thought was real. The fever you had was what made you think those terrible things. You got sick on Halloween night. That’s probably what made you think such bizarre thoughts in your dreams.”

“Adam, why do you have a black eye?”

“I said something to Regan that Hoss didn’t like. Melinda tells me all the time to keep those thoughts to myself. She’ll probably never change me any more than Hoss will change Regan. Oh, and Joe and Calamity are hiding out at the line shack again. Doc’s back in town looking for them.”