Bits and Pieces 2012

 

This is a collection of vignettes written for some pinecone challenges in 2012.  Each challenge was generated by the first line of a novel.  The quote and source are used to title each piece.  They have a broad range of themes and tones, and some are AU. 

Rating: T/PG-13  Word Count: 5776

 

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“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”  

from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin 

  

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. It is equally true that each woman feels she knows exactly which woman is suitable for the man- if not herself than some dear female preferably a family member, but bosom friends are also eligible. For this reason, Mrs. Genevieve Deveraux Braxton sat at the desk in her morning room pondering the guest list for a most important dinner.  Mr. Braxton thought the evening’s importance related to the business he planned to conduct with one Ben Cartwright; Mrs. Braxton knew a far greater importance lay in the fact that all three of Mr. Cartwright’s eligible sons would be attending with him.  One thousand acres divided three ways still gave each son a future worthy of being bestowed on those single girls dear to Mrs. Braxton’s heart.  She had met all three of the gentlemen in question when she and Mr. Braxton had traveled to Virginia City in the spring, and each had managed to meet even her exacting standards. 

  

Of course, her own dear Rosalie would be perfect for the youngest son.  Little Joe- how quaint his family still referred to the boy that way- was a bit of a rapscallion, but only in the nicest sense of the word.  He had spirit, and Rosalie wanted a spirited man.  He also seemed more willing than his brothers to open the purse strings.  Her daughter deserved the finest- if more expensive- things in life, and Little Joe seemed the most likely to shower her with the presents dear to a wife’s heart.  A generous boy was Joe Cartwright and so good-looking.  Mrs. Braxton smiled over the pretty grandbabies she would hold. 

  

Not that the middle son- what was that odd name of his? Oh, yes, Hoss- seemed miserly, but Rosalie expected a dash of elegance.  Hoss lacked elegance, but Mrs. Braxton did not hold that against him.  Hoss Cartwright was solid- solid, strong, and sweet.  He was just the down-to-earth sort of man her niece Emily Jane needed.  Emily Jane, always on the sickly side, needed strength, and Mrs. Braxton congratulated herself on planning an infusion of heartiness into her own family’s bloodline.  Her dear brother would thank her for it if Emily Jane managed to produce an heir.  

  

Her young cousin Victoria had been chosen for the eldest son Adam.  One thing Victoria never lacked was strength of mind. Surely, she could hold her own with the college-educated rancher despite his slightly overbearing personality. His dark good looks, after all, made up for a great many opinionated observations.  Besides, being a bluestocking would be less of a disadvantaged with an intelligent man.  They might be able to speak about one of those endless books Victoria toted around. 

  

Mrs. Braxton put the finishing touches on her plans for the evening, and with a self-satisfied smile went to tell Rosalie to make sure her blue silk gown was cleaned. 

 

 

 

“He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.” 

 from Scaramouche by Rapheal Sabatini  

  

He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.   When Adam first met him, he did not actually like Albert Kenworthy, but then Albert had not actually liked Adam.  Adam Cartwright took things too seriously: school, studies, and self-important professors who thought they were imparting the wisdom of the ages.  Albert continually poked fun at those professors, the school in general, and almost everything that most people admired. Boston society, debutants, and fellow students were also targets for Albert’s barbs.  Albert’s wit was deprecating and condescending but always spot-on funny.  Adam was bright enough to catch even the slightest nuances and therefore an excellent, if unappreciative audience, so even when he knew Adam had grown irritated with one of his diatribes Albert continued until Adam would shut his book and declare that he was going out.  Watching his roommate depart, Albert would smile and tell himself he had done Adam a favor by getting his nose out of the books where it spent far too much time.  So, they had been roommates that first year but never quite friends.  Living in close confines, they did learn things about each other that created a peculiar bond.  Adam was not sure that bond was welcomed by either of them, but he had to admit Albert had never used any knowledge he gained about Adam against him.   Still, Adam had spent considerable time over summer break considering how to handle changing roommates without creating an enemy.  In the end, that time had been wasted, for on returning that fall Adam found that Albert Kenworthy’s running-off with a young but married Boston socialite was the talk of the campus and half the town.  He had received a short letter about a month later expressing apologies for not inviting Adam to a wedding (Albert assured that Adam would have been on the guest list if bigamy was not illegal in Massachusetts) and expounding the virtues of traveling Europe with a beautiful woman. Adam had known Albert well enough to detect the brittleness of his words and wondered what lay ahead for the black sheep of one of Massachusetts’s leading families.  Though he thought of Albert from time to time especially when a situation caused him to hear a witty barb against some pompous stuffed-shirt in his head, Adam never actually missed the man or expected to know his fate.  He certainly never expected to walk into a San Francisco gambling house and hear an obviously drunken voice call out, “Adam Cartwright, fancy seeing you here!” 

 

“We shared a room and a few classes, Hoss.  Just that first year.  He ran away to Europe with a married woman.”  Adam paused and rubbed his finger along his nose. 

 

“And now he’s a gambler and a drunk.” 

 

“A remittance man.”  Adam looked at his brother and saw in his face that Hoss knew about the money he had given Albert.   He also knew Hoss would never mention it. 

 

 

 

 

“All this happened more or less.” 

 from Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut 

 

All this happened more or less.  I know that memory is self-serving.   Each of my brothers would have their own version of the story, and Pa his.  Mine makes me more of a hero to some than theirs would, even if I feel less of one each time someone remarks that I am.  I reacted without thinking.  Now, I chide Little Joe about just that so often.  Is it the result that makes my action heroic?  It could so easily have gone the other way. Would they all have cursed my recklessness then?   I was lucky.  Was it luck or perhaps divine intervention?  Pa wanted to take me to task.  I could see it in his eyes.  If there had been no crowd, he would have.  Perhaps he will yet.  Is that why I’m here instead of before our fire? Is avoidance the reason my stomach is growling instead of digesting one of Hop Sing’s finest?   I’m twenty-three, not thirteen.  It’s not as if I haven’t faced a scolding before.  Hoss, Pa, and even Little Joe all say that I have the thickest hide when it comes to a tongue-lashing.  After all, nothing he could say would conjure up a worse picture of what might have been than I have already.   Pa won’t say anything about how the boy could have been killed.  No, Pa, will rant about the danger to his son, or at least the danger to us both. 

  

“Adam.”  Hoss had crept to his brother’s side with the same soft-footed silence he used to approach an injured beast.  When Adam did not answer, Hoss simply settled on the ground next to him.  “That moon’s sure enough a beauty.” 

  

“Did Pa send you?” 

  

“Naw.  He’s fretting, and that spurred me some, but no. He doesn’t know for sure that I always know where to find ya.  We all know Little Joe goes up to Mama’s; I’m the only one knows you come here.” 

  

“He’s only three, Hoss, and my actions could have killed him.” 

  

“He’s alive, Adam, and you ain’t the one that robbed the bank and tried to use a little’un for a shield.  Ya don’t think that man would have let him live.” 

  

“He might have.” 

  

“You don’t think that.  Iffen you’d had any thought like that ya never would have taken that shot.” 

  

“Arrogance, Hoss, pure arrogance, and it could have ended with a child dead in the street.” 

  

“My brother could have ended up dead in the street, but he’s not.  I choose to think on that.  You saw the face of that boy’s mama when he was back in her arms.  If ya got to paint pictures in that mind of yours, paint that one.”  Hoss stood and slapped his hat against his leg.  “Come home, Adam; Hop Sing’s waiting supper.”  Adam did not move.  “Staying here ain’t gonna chance things one might.  It happened as it happened.  You’d do the same if it happened again.” 

  

I would.  The truth is I would. 

 

 

 

 “Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet.” 

 from The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace 

 

 “Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet.” 

  

Little Joe exchanged a glance with Adam before commenting on Hoss’s statement.  “Does that mean that ugly girls have pretty feet?” 

  

“Nope!”  Hoss’s beer glass hit the table.  “Ugly gals have uglier feet.” 

  

Adam arched his eyebrow.  “Could you enlighten us on who has the ugliest feet?” 

  

Hoss gave his brother a pointed glance, and Little Joe’s giggle began.  Another pointed glance from Hoss cut it off. 

  

“Hey, my feet aren’t ugly, you galoot.”  Little Joe huffed and pushed back his chair.  

  

“Naw.”  Hoss drew the word out using the same tone he would with an irritable toddler.  “Them little baby feet of yours couldn’t ‘xactly be called ugly.”   

  

Little Joe shot to his feet, but Adam’s hand clamped onto his brother’s forearm.  “Cool down, Joe.”  The few seconds’ delay and his automatic attention to Adam’s tone allowed Little Joe to recognize futility.  He turned and stalked off to the bar for another beer and the blonde charms of Lillie. 

  

“You didn’t need to wind him up.”  Adam took a long draw from his warming beer. 

  

“Sometimes it’s just so easy.” 

  

“Well, that’s true.  Still…” 

  

“I’ll set it right later.”  Hoss looked over and assessed the situation at the bar.  “It might just wind him up more if I interrupted now.”  

  

Adam’s gaze followed Hoss’s.  “Definitely later.  You never answered my question.” 

  

“Ugly men, of course.  Ugly, old men who’ve worked hard all their lives.  You can tell a lot about a man’s life from his feet, sometimes more than from his hands.” 

  

Adam sighed.  “True.  Well, then pray tell me who has pretty feet.” 

  

Hoss echoed his brother’s sigh.  “That’s just it.  Ain’t nobody got pretty feet; there just ain’t no such thing.” 

  

“Some people would beg to differ, brother.  Some men are quite taken with women’s feet.  I knew a fellow at college who, well, let’s just say he found women’s feet, when he could see them uncovered, quite…”  Adam paused to clear his throat.    “He found them quite erotic.” 

  

“Erotic?”  Hoss’s puzzled expression clearly asked for a definition. 

  

Adam cleared his throat again.  “Umm, you know, they excited him.” 

  

“Excited him?” 

  

Adam made a quick gesture.  “Excited him.” 

  

“Feet!”  Hoss’s astonishment was clear. 

  

Adam nodded.  “Feet.”  He shrugged. 

  

Hoss shook his head.  “Feet.”  He leaned back and chewed his lower lip.  “Knew a fellow who got excited, umm, that way over knees.” 

  

“Knees?” 

  

‘Knees.” 

  

“Well, I don’t suppose that posed over much of a problem.” 

  

“Oh, but it did.  He liked that kind of excitement, but gals didn’t like most of what he did to see them knees.” 

  

Adam considered the possibilities.  “I suppose not.  How old was this fellow.”  He knew Hoss would pass on no names. 

  

“Eighteen, last I saw him.  I was thirteen; you was at college with that feet fellow.” 

  

“With the knee you would at least get a look at most of her leg.” 

  

Hoss nodded, and they both signaled for another drink. 

 

 

 

“Of all the things that drive men to sea, the most common disaster, I’ve come to learn, is women.” 

 from Middle Passage by Charles Johnson  

  

“Of all the things that drive men to sea, the most common disaster, I’ve come to learn, is women.” 

 

That pronouncement came to my ears as Little Joe and I sat eating in a fine San Francisco restaurant.  The man who made the statement sat several tables away, and the only words of his that reached our ears clearly were those.  It was a full minute or more before my youngest gave me his teasing grin and asked if I could blame my running away to sea on a woman.  I was forced to reply that was true only if a thirteen-year-old could be considered a woman.  He soon had the story from me though I had never told any of my boys before what had set me on the course that would lead me to Adam’s mother.  Not that there was anything to hide from them in the story really.  Lilly Anne was a pretty thing for sure with a saucy spirit, but not a temptress.  No, she was simply a young girl just learning her power over the boys that brought her wildflowers or shared their sweets with her.  I shared my mother’s lemon cookies, and even one of the Turkish Delights from the box my uncle had sent to the family for Christmas.   Her smiles made my heart soar, and her tears made me leave my senses and run off for the day with her to the fair in the next town over.  Even with all that followed, that time at the fair is still a sweet memory.  I know now the reason for my father’s great anger upon our return.  If one of my boys at thirteen had disappeared for the day and returned smiling with joy thoughtless of the tears others had shed from fear, I know mine would have been as great.  I know now that my mother could not stay his hand because it was her tears that had fueled his anger.  I did not leave because my father’s punishment was harsh; I did not leave that night or even the next.  Truth is, I did not leave the house for the next three days.  Then the need to know how Lily Anne had fared drove me to sneak away.  I came slowly up to her yard.  I paused when I heard her laughter followed by that of another.  I crept to where I could see but be unseen and watched her with Billy Hobson.  They did nothing but laugh and share some sugar candy, but I knew that I was no more special to her than any other pleasant fellow.  Seven days later I signed onto my first ship claiming to be sixteen.  I learned soon enough why the captain of the Black Rover had not cared that I was obviously not that age, but that is a story that even Joe shall not wheedle from me. 

 

 

 

“He was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he advanced straight at you with a slight stoop of the shoulders, head forward, and a fixed from-under stare which made you think of a charging bull.” 

 from Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad 

  

He was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he advanced straight at you with a slight stoop of the shoulders, head forward, and a fixed from-under stare which made you think of a charging bull.   Ben had seen men like him in every port The Wanderer visited and learned to meet the implied challenge head-on. 

  

“You’re Ben Cartwright?”  The inquiry was voiced in a low growl as if the speaker expected a denial. 

  

Ben looked directly into the man’s glare and reached out.  “Yes, I’m Ben Cartwright.  You are?” Ben felt his hand gripped with more force than firmness and returned the pressure with equal compression. 

  

“Wolfgang Kroner.”  Kroner’s grasp relaxed, and his hand moved to his hip.  The look on his face declared that the name should be introduction enough. 

  

“Pleasure to meet you.”  Ben kept his tone neutral enough to send the message that the words were mere politeness. He waited some seconds before adding, “You wished to speak with me.” 

  

“We have business.”   

  

Ben’s eyebrow arched.  “We do?” 

  

“I aim to have it settled before nightfall.”  Kroner lowered his own shaggy brows. 

  

“Is it the sort of business that should be settled in the street, or might we step inside the Silver Dollar and discuss it over a drink?”  Ben gestured smoothly with his left hand while keeping his eyes fixed on Kroner. 

  

Kroner snorted and reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat.  Taking out a piece of paper, he thrust it toward Ben’s face.  Ben took it, unfolded it, and read it slowly and thoroughly.  Then he held it out toward Kroner. 

  

“I assume you feel I should honor the debt.” 

  

“She was your wife.” 

  

“She has been dead for fifteen years.  If that is legitimate, you would have presented it promptly.” 

  

“You should be glad I’m asking no more than a fair interest.” 

  

“Fair interest or no, I see no reason for my wife to have signed that paper or to have needed that money.  Therefore…”  Ben’s shrug was eloquent, and he turned to walk away.  He stopped as he felt his upper arm grabbed. 

  

“Oh, you don’t.  I loaned her that money, and I intend to be paid if not by her husband, well, her son will do as well.” 

  

Ben turned back toward Kroner.  “My son…” 

  

A sneer preceded Kroner’s words.  “Might like to hear just why his mama needed that money.  Just who she was paying off.” 

  

Ben’s hand moved smoothly to his hip, and his gun was under Kroner’s chin pointed upward in seconds.  “You will not speak a word to my son.  Not now, not ever.”  His tone was ice cold; his eyes even colder.  “If you can give me a convincing time and place for your transaction with my wife, I shall honor the original debt with two years interest.  It would be in your interest to accept this offer.” 

 

Kroner blinked.  “Fine. Sacramento, year before she died.”  Ben lowered his gun.   

 

“Tomorrow. Nine o’clock outside the bank. Kroner nodded and walked away. Ben sighed and went to join his sons at the Silver Dollar. 

 

 

 

“It was love at first sight.” 

 from Catch-22 by Joseph Heller 

  

It was love at first sight.  Well, if one wanted to be polite it was love at first sight; the attraction had been immediate anyway.  He had wanted her with a need that was aching in its intensity, and she had wanted him.  There had been no coy denials or pointing out proprieties.  She had risked her father’s ire by leaving the dance to be alone with him mere minutes after that first waltz.  He had risked his father’s anger also and paid a heavy price when Ben Cartwright had discovered his sixteen-year-old son alone in the hayloft with a girl brazen enough not to blush at the fact that her dress was unbuttoned.  He had had little opportunity after that night to see her alone, to see her at all expect at church services.  The only thing he had prayed for those Sunday mornings was the chance to speak to her, to take her hand in his, to hold her in his arms.  He had sent secret notes by his little brother, flowery and poetic declarations of love eternal.  He had ducked behind bushes and buildings and even the church privy to have a few moments with her.  Finally, they had formed a plan.  He knew his father would forgive him even the most deceitful elopement, and she swore her father would never allow an annulment if the marriage was consummated.  He never came to know why Hoss took that last note to Pa.  The seal hadn’t been broken, so his brother could not have known it was more than another passionate love letter.  Yet, somehow, Hoss had found the strength to commit an act that he knew Adam would consider a betrayal.  The missive had stated time and place.  Adam arrived to find not the girl of his dreams but her father and his own.  He had learned that night that he was a boy, in truth, not just by law.  Odd to think that it was his stepmother that stayed his father’s hand and came to his room the next morning to talk.  He had heard her words but not truly listened, not until later after they had repeatedly come back to his mind.  Actually, he believed that his father’s agreement to send him east to college had been born from that failed attempt at marriage, and he would freely admit that he traded dreams far too easily for it to have been true love.  She did also for she was wed to Allen Trehern before her eighteenth birthday.  He had gone on to love at first sight, or at least nearly first sight, again: Ruth, Rebecca, Regina. He could picture each of their faces and feel his lips upon theirs.  In the end, though, he had loved and lost and learned that love at first sight was not the miracle.  No, love at last sight long after the pastor’s “for better and worse” had become a reality, that was the miracle. 

 

 

 

“Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.” 

 from Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston 

  

“Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.” 

  

Adam turned and studied his father.  “And when they sail closer?” 

  

Ben Cartwright stared out over San Francisco’s harbor.  “We see reality.” 

  

Adam shifted and turned his own gaze toward the water.  “You always made your tales of the seafaring life exciting and …umm, appealing, at least to a young boy.” 

  

“Few men tell boring tales.   Little Joe thinks the trip west was exciting, perhaps even appealing.” 

  

“I suppose.”  Adam shifted again.  “It’s not the sea that calls to me, Pa.” 

  

“But there is something calling?”   Ben kept his eyes on the horizon. 

  

“There always has been.  It’s just…. well, lately the call seems to be getting louder.  I… I can’t seem to drown it out anymore.” 

  

“Are you sure that you cannot find what calls to you on the Ponderosa?” 

  

“I’ve…  Pa, it’s not…”  Adam and Ben turned toward each other. 

  

“I know how you feel about your family.  None of us…” 

  

“Little Joe?” 

  

Ben sighed.  “You’re younger brother…  his temper will speak first; don’t take every word to heart.” 

  

“He won’t say anything I haven’t said to myself.”  Adam dropped his gaze to the rough boards of the pier.   

  

“Remember when Hoss found the baby snakes and wanted to bring them home.” 

  

“He was four and cried for days over them.  But what…” 

  

“You were nine.  You tried so hard to make him understand that no matter how he loved them or even how much they loved him it wouldn’t make their venom go away.” 

  

Adam looked up and gave his father a wry grin.  “I don’t know if I appreciate being cast as a snake.” 

  

Ben shrugged.  “You’ve made your decision?” 

  

Adam’s left hand slipped up to tug his right ear.  “I won’t be leaving in a matter of days or even weeks, perhaps not for months, but, yes, I shall be leaving.” 

  

Ben’s smile was wry.  “I can’t even tell you to think it over.  Rashness was never your vice.” 

  

“Pa…”  

  

Ben moved his hand in a gesture meant to forestall any further remark.  “Don’t, Adam, you don’t have to justify anything.” 

  

“I just…” 

  

Ben’s hand settled on Adam’s shoulder.  “Don’t and don’t promise, don’t tempt fate with promises you may not be able to keep.” 

  

Adam looked into Ben’s eyes.  “Did you?” 

  

“Several times.”  Ben cleared his throat as his hand dropped to his side.  “You’ll tell your brothers in your own time.” 

  

“Yes.” 

  

Turning toward the water, Ben focused on a ship’s sail in the distance.  He stood very still as the scene before his eyes blurred.    

  

“I know what I’m leaving.”  Adam’s voice was barely more than a whisper.  “I know I may never…” 

  

“You know you have to go?”   

  

“I do.” 

  

“Then I know I have to let you.” 

  

“I’ll have your blessing?” 

  

“Blessing?  Yes, you’ll have my blessing and my prayers.” 

  

“I… I regret most that it hurts you.” 

  

“All ships carry men’s wishes and their regrets.” 

 

 

 

“If I am out of my mind, it’s all right with me.”  

from Herzog by Saul Bellow 

 

“If I am out of my mind, it’s all right with me.” 

  

“You are, you know, completely and irrevocably.”  She reached to brush his cheek with her fingers before turning away.  “I couldn’t; I can’t.” 

  

His eyes darkened.  “You won’t.”   

  

“Have it your way.”  She stepped away, but his hand caught her and drew her back to his arms. 

  

“Why?”  His breath burned her ear. 

  

She drew his arms around her and locked her fingers over his.  His chin rested lightly against her dark curls.  “There wouldn’t be a happily-ever-after for us.  I am what I am, and some people would never let us forget that.” 

  

“We don’t have to forget to be happy; we just need to remember how unimportant the past is and how much love there is in our future.” 

  

“What if your father and brothers can’t accept me?  What if your father doesn’t want the Cartwright named besmirched?” 

  

He turned her then to face him.  She felt his anger flare and saw the fire in his eyes.  “Besmirched!  I’ll not allow even you to say that!”  He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  “My family is not like that.  You are the woman I love; they will welcome you into our family.” 

  

“If they do not?” 

  

“I don’t need the Ponderosa to support you.” 

  

“You need your family to support you.  I’ll not take them away.” 

  

“Why are you so sure you would?  You’re not giving them a chance.” 

  

“Fine.  They accept that they have no choice but to smile and swallow it down.  Maybe, they even come to like me a little.”  She pulled from his arms and walked  

 

to the window.  “That doesn’t mean that we can stay happy.”  She gazed down at the street below.  “What happens the day that a man…  a man says nothing more than the truth, and you can’t stand the pictures it puts in your mind or the mind of your family or just whoever is standing around.  You have a temper.  Would you feel bound to defend my honor?” 

  

“Do you think I couldn’t?” 

  

“Could you live with killing a man for my tarnished honor?  What if it wasn’t you?  What if one of your brothers defended my Cartwright name and was hurt…was… I’ll not have you learn to hate me.  That I couldn’t bear.” 

  

“I love you.  I could never hate you.” 

  

She turned back toward him raising her chin.  “Could you tell our son what I have been?  Be honest when he asked if what the other boys say is true?  Could you tell our daughter that it doesn’t matter I’ve done what you have told her is a sin?  Would you have lies and deceit between you and your children?”   She saw the words hit him, saw them sink into his mind. 

  

“Ever the pessimist.”  His tone was flat, but the words sharp-edged. 

  

“The realist.”  She stepped toward him.  “We have what we have.” 

  

He kissed her then for the last time. 

 

 

 

“We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.”  

from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson 

  

“We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.”  Ben paused, staring down into the coffee cup held in his hands.  The cup turned slowly before Ben looked up.  “They dulled the pain, but…”  He set the cup on the table.  He did not need to tell any of his listeners that opiates had no effect on infection or fever.  “I was able to hurry the horses then; I, well, there was still hope that we might make Barstow, reach a doctor in time.”  Ben stood and turned his back on the eyes that focused on his every movement.  “I must have woken a dozen people barreling down the road, shouting, trying for every minute, every second.  The doctor ran to the wagon.”  Ben’s hand moved, and the chair in which he had sat for most of his tale slammed backwards to the ground.  “I should never have allowed. . .should have. . .” Four strides and Ben was slamming through the door. 

  

“Pa!”  Hoss moved more quickly than the others and followed his father into the night.  Little Joe gasped and turned toward Adam.  His eyes widened as he watched Adam bury his face in his arms. 

  

“Adam, we. . .should we. . .” 

  

Adam’s response was as explosive as his father’s exit.  He jerked upright and threw the coffee pot into the wall.  “Not again!”   

  

Little Joe reached his hand toward his brother, but Adam was out of reach and then out of the room without another word.  “I, I, I…”  Joe closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. 

  

“You’ll do what needs to be done, son.”  Joe felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.  “Your pa’s gonna need all three of ya to get through this.”  A second squeeze preceded Roy Coffee’s next observation.  “Adam’s gonna need you and Hoss…” 

  

“Adam?  Adam didn’t,” Little Joe’s temper flared and then seemed to burn out in an instant, “he didn’t really even like her.” 

  

“That isn’t going to make it any easier; it may well make it even harder.”  Paul Martin’s words were delivered in firm but smoothed tones practiced in countless homes over his years of doctoring.  Little Joe stared at the doctor.   

  

“You weren’t but a mite of a boy, Joe, when your mama died.  Adam, well, he did a job of holding things together even though he wasn’t grown himself.”  Roy’s voice held the same practiced calm as the doctor’s.  “He told me then…, well, even though he weren’t but a little child he went through your pa losing Inger too.  In this kind of thing, three just ain’t the charm.” 

  

Little Joe turned to look at the third man who remained in the room.  “Pastor, do you…” Little Joe’s voice broke and sank to a whisper.  “Do you think God hates Pa?” 

  

The pastor had married Ben and Victoria only ten months before.  “No, he gave him love four times over.”